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Students & Youth

Why justice-involved youth say ‘I don’t know’ – and how career practitioners can respond

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“I don’t know.”

That was often the first answer I received when I asked a young person in custody how they envisioned their future after release. Sometimes the answer came with a shrug. Other times it was followed by “probably nothing” or “who cares?” And many times, I was met with complete silence.

It can be easy for anyone working alongside justice-involved youth to interpret these responses as a lack of motivation or interest. But for these young people, planning for school, work or life outside of custody may feel distant when much of their attention has been focused on trying to survive. Before asking youth to imagine a career, we may first need to understand why it can be so difficult for them to imagine any future.

When young people are repeatedly treated as a risk to be managed rather than a person still growing, the future can feel as though it has already been decided for them.

I remember other conversations that began something like this:

“What do you think you might want to do when you get out?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fair. You don’t have to know right now. Is there anything you enjoy doing or could see yourself wanting to learn more about?”

This shift is small, but it changes the conversation. Instead of requiring a young person to produce a career goal immediately, it communicates something different: your uncertainty is allowed here.

Over the past few years, I’ve worked alongside many justice-involved youth in both community and correctional settings. Most of our conversations centred on the future: what life might look like after leaving custody, their goals and the kind of person they wanted to become upon release. As I spent time truly getting to know these youth, I began to understand that “I don’t know” was not always coming from a place of not knowing or never thinking about the future. Often, it meant they did not believe the future they wanted was possible.

Looking beyond the offence

Long before their first interaction with the police, many justice-involved youth have already experienced years of instability. Many hold stories of trauma, poverty, disrupted education, substance use, discrimination, unmet mental health needs and inconsistent adult relationships. These experiences do not necessarily excuse harmful behaviour or eliminate the need to hold young people accountable for their actions. They do, however, provide an important context for understanding some young people’s susceptibility to becoming involved in crime. Behaviour doesn’t develop in isolation, and neither does a young person’s understanding of who they are.

Unfortunately, for many justice-involved youth, the stigma that often follows contact with the justice system becomes another burden to carry. Once a youth is described as “high risk,” an “offender,” or a “criminal” it can become difficult for others to see beyond that label, and over time, some young people may identify with these labels. When they are repeatedly treated as a risk to be managed rather than a person still growing, the future can feel as though it has already been decided for them. It’s much harder for these youth to imagine finishing school, building a career or creating a different life when the world around them seems to expect them to fail.

The shift is small, but it communicates something important: your uncertainty is allowed here.

Understanding the institutional culture

Custody centres are secure environments. Correctional staff are responsible for maintaining safety, managing risk and responding to complex situations. These responsibilities are necessary, but they also shape the daily experiences of the young people living within those environments. Doors are locked; movement is controlled; routines are closely monitored; conversations are constantly overheard; and these youth are frequently assessed based on their behaviour, risks and compliance.

Within this culture, it is common for youth to become highly self-protective. They may answer questions with only a few words, avoid eye contact or even appear indifferent to the practitioner’s presence. Others may test boundaries, challenge authority figures or reject potential support before it has the chance to reject them. I’ve learned not to take every response at face value. What may initially appear defiant or disrespectful is often an adaptive response shaped by past experiences and current circumstances.

Career conversations often ask young people to reveal things about themselves that can feel deeply personal: what they hope for, what they fear, what they believe they’re capable of and what kind of life they want. For youth in custody who have learned that vulnerability can carry consequences, “I don’t know” may feel much safer than saying “I want to go to university” or “I’m scared I won’t be able to do anything when I leave.”

When career practitioners understand this pattern of guardedness as a potential adaptation to the youths’ circumstances rather than a character flaw or act of defiance, it becomes possible to approach career conversations with justice-involved youth with greater patience and empathy. This does not mean that every harmful or challenging behaviour should be excused. It simply means that practitioners should approach behaviour with curiosity. So instead of asking, “Why is this youth being difficult?” we might ask, “What has this young person learned about trust, vulnerability and survival?”  

Career conversations often ask young people to reveal what they hope for, what they fear and what kind of life they want.

Hope as a career intervention

Many justice-involved youth have lived through repeated setbacks. They may have been suspended or expelled from school, told they are too far behind, excluded from prosocial opportunities or repeatedly reminded of the barriers standing in their way. When a young person has heard, directly or indirectly, that they are destined to fail, asking them to create a career plan may feel disconnected from their reality. Before discussing future educational or occupational pathways, practitioners may need to help these youth reconnect with a sense of hope.

This can be done by offering a hope- and strengths-based approach that acknowledges the barriers these young people face while refusing to define them by those barriers. Career practitioners can begin by noticing abilities that may not appear on a transcript or resume. For instance, a youth who has had to learn to navigate unpredictable environments may be highly observant and adaptable. Or someone who takes care of their younger family members may have developed leadership and patience. Helping youth name these abilities can begin to shift how they see themselves.

This can begin with the same conversation that started with “I don’t know.” Rather than responding with another future-focused question or interpreting guardedness as unwillingness by saying something like, “You need to start taking your future seriously,” a practitioner might instead say:

“That’s OK. We don’t need to figure everything out today. What’s something people come to you for help with?”

Or “What’s something you’ve gotten good at, even if you didn’t learn it in school?”

I think back to the many conversations I’ve had with young people whose first response was a shrug or a dismissal. When given time, respect, dignity and genuine interest, some began to speak and think differently. They wanted to finish school and experience a life beyond their involvement with the justice system. Their aspirations had not disappeared while in custody. In many cases, these aspirations had simply been buried beneath survival, stigma and the expectation of failure.

Career practitioners are uniquely positioned to help justice-involved youth shift their focus from their past to their future potential. While it may not be possible to remove every barrier in a young person’s path or promise the way ahead will be easy, it is possible to create a space in which the young people’s strengths are recognized, their goals are taken seriously and their future is treated as real. Before justice-involved youth can build a career plan, they may first need support to believe they actually have a future worth planning for.

Pavendeep Nijjar has spent the past four years working in the non-profit sector, primarily supporting at-risk and justice-involved youth through outreach, program facilitation, and career and educational support. She previously worked as Program Coordinator at the Burnaby Youth Hub, where she coordinated youth programming and oversaw day-to-day operations of a wraparound service hub for vulnerable youth. She holds a BA in Criminology with a minor in Counselling and Human Development from Simon Fraser University, with professional interests in counselling, youth justice and supporting young people navigating systemic barriers.
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Pavendeep Nijjar has spent the past four years working in the non-profit sector, primarily supporting at-risk and justice-involved youth through outreach, program facilitation, and career and educational support. She previously worked as Program Coordinator at the Burnaby Youth Hub, where she coordinated youth programming and oversaw day-to-day operations of a wraparound service hub for vulnerable youth. She holds a BA in Criminology with a minor in Counselling and Human Development from Simon Fraser University, with professional interests in counselling, youth justice and supporting young people navigating systemic barriers.
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