You don’t have to live with a teenager to know the pre‑exam panic that descends on households every spring. One minute your kid is practising chords on the guitar, the next they’re scrolling through TikTok, convinced that a complete stranger can divine which Hamlet soliloquies will turn up on this year’s English paper. In the UK, former teacher Waqar Malik has built a viral following by posing as a fortune teller on his “Mr Everything English” channel, claiming he can predict GCSE exam questions. Thousands of stressed teenagers are tuning in and some are hanging their hopes on his educated guesswork. It’s the perfect storm of exam stress, influencer culture and the lure of a quick fix.

The problem isn’t that these influencers exist—teachers have been flagging likely topics for years—but the scale and blind faith. Exam boards have warned that pupils are relying too much on online revision channels. One board even reminded students that the examiners want their own interpretations, not “some stranger’s views on social media”. After last year’s exams, angry comments flooded Malik’s channel when predictions missed the mark. Other creators sell predicted papers for a few pounds, proudly advertising 60‑70 % accuracy. For teens already overloaded with coursework and extracurriculars, the promise of a shortcut is intoxicating.

As parents, it’s tempting to dismiss this as naive or lazy. But teens are growing up in a world where algorithms serve up endless “life hacks” and where credibility is measured in likes. They’re bombarded with content that blurs the line between advice and advertising. Instead of banning screens and hoping for the best, we need to arm them with questions: Who’s behind this information? What’s their motive? How do you know it’s accurate? Media literacy isn’t just for journalists; it’s a survival skill for our kids.

This conversation can’t happen in isolation from mental health. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s new Free Mind campaign, launched just in time for the back‑to‑school season, notes that a staggering 40 % of high schoolers stopped activities last year because of persistent sadness or hopelessness. One in five seriously considered suicide. The CDC reminds us that teens often use substances to cope with stress and anxiety and urges parents to talk openly about mental health and substance use. Exam stress and the constant hum of social media are part of that mental load.

So how do we help? Start by making exam preparation a collaborative process rather than a pressure cooker. Encourage your teen to build study habits early and to use credible resources—class notes, teachers, even old‑fashioned study guides—before turning to the latest viral video. Talk about the difference between helpful guidance and harmful shortcuts. And when they inevitably bring up an influencer, ask them what they found useful, then gently probe why they trust that source. Celebrate effort over predicted outcomes. Remind them that real learning sticks, even when predictions don’t.

Most importantly, keep the door open. Ask how they’re feeling. Share your own stories of exam nerves and resilience. Let them know it’s normal to feel overwhelmed, and that no TikTok guru has all the answers. In a culture obsessed with “going viral,” our job isn’t to shut our teens off from the internet; it’s to teach them to question, to think critically, and to value their own interpretations. After all, the most powerful prediction isn’t about next week’s essay question—it’s that a well‑supported, mentally healthy teenager will always have the tools to handle whatever the world throws at them.

Sources:

1. “Stressed UK teens seek influencers’ help for exams success” – Arab News.

2. “CDC Launches New Campaign to Address Youth Substance Use and Mental Health” – CDC Newsroom.