Polish teenagers start experimenting early. The average age of first contact with ‘legal highs’ (a colloquial term for new psychoactive substances that were legally sold in Poland before 2010, now mostly called New Psychoactive Substances, or NPS) is on average 13.8 years old. Yet schools mostly ignore this reality—young people leave classrooms with catchy slogans, not real facts.
“Can THC make depression worse?”
“Can LSD make you ‘freeze’ forever?”
“Why are my pupils dilated if I haven’t taken anything?”
These are just a few of the dozens of questions I get from young people across Poland. The wording may be chaotic, but the root is the same: hunger for trustworthy, understandable knowledge.
In Poland, drug education is practically non-existent. In fact, schools rarely talk about substances at all. While Polish schools technically include drug prevention in their core curriculum, this mostly means sloganized education on “healthy living”, scattered biology lessons, and a few lectures on smoking and alcohol. Real information on drug mixtures, overdose risks or harm reduction is missing.
However, Poland’s role as a European centre of NPS production has grown even after their ban: large seizures of synthetic cathinone precursors show that the industry and consumption are here to stay.
So young people turn teach themselves, primarily through the internet: TikTok, YouTube, Discord, Instagram. Their teachers are neighbourhood friends, anonymous Reddit users, influencers, and science-based Instagram accounts. The curriculum, however, is a messy blend of myths, fears, and anecdotes, peppered with sporadic truths.
For the past five years, I’ve been running grassroots drug education. For the past year, I’ve been doing it publicly on social media—where I respond to these questions every day, often in place of a system that stays silent.
The internet: a key source of information
Just a few years ago, school was the main source of information about new psychoactive substances and their harms. In 2017, 69.2% of students said that teachers, educators, or school counsellors were the people who had most taught them about the risks of NPS. But by 2023, this had flipped: the internet took first place, with 71.3% of students saying it was now their main source of information.
In the same time period, the percentage of young people who had never encountered any information about NPS’ effects rose from 3.6% to 8.5%. That means almost one in ten young people lack any knowledge on what these substances can do.
At the same time, others are very well informed about NPS markets and their prices. An article into youth drug use highlighted how 16-year-olds were well aware of market prices for various substances, had easy access to dealers, and where to go use drugs in parties where underaged people are allowed in.
I’m part of that generation too
As a kid—around 8, 9, or 10 years old—I’d hear the word dopalacze (“legal highs” at that time) often. They were freely sold in physical and online smart shops until they being banned in 2010.
I only started learning anything real about drugs around the age of 14 or 16 thanks to grassroots Polish educators on YouTube – for example, Mestosław, who is still active today. While schools stayed silent, these individuals filled a needed gap of information on what substances really were and how they worked.
What and how do young people mix?
Young people in Poland don’t just use substances—for many, drugs and alcohol are a way to deal with difficult moments. While overall use of some substances like cannabis or amphetamines has dropped in recent years, more young people now link NPS use with escaping worries and problems: recent surveys show this motivation rose from 18.3% in 2017 to 27.5% in 2023.
This means that for many young people, substances are not just about partying—they are a way to cope with stress, anxiety or feeling overwhelmed.
From the messages I receive, it’s clear that many young people aren’t using drugs just out of curiosity; they’re using them as coping mechanisms. They struggle to sleep, or need to disconnect from their environment. Because they believe it’s normal—“everyone’s doing something” as they told me—and no one explains what could go wrong.
While there’s no precise youth-only figure, the PolDrugs 2025 study found that more than half of people who use substances admit to mixing them at least once a month—and only 44% say they never do.
Many stories have highlighted these risks:
“That evening he mixed MDMA with mephedrone. He thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Only later did he admit to the doctor that it wasn’t overtraining—it was the effect of the mix.”
The mental health of young Polish girls and boys
Behind experimentation often lies not curiosity, but crisis. In 2024, Poland ranked as one of the countries with the lowest levels of adolescent well-being in Europe. These results were particularly bad for young women: the largest European gender differences were also in Poland, with 64% of boys declaring good mental well-being versus only 33% of girls. Post-pandemic isolation, economic instability, and lack of systemic support seems to have taken a heavy toll—particularly on girls.
This condition often finds an outlet in substance use: girls are more likely to vape daily, use sleeping pills, mix depressants. Often quietly, from a need to “switch off”.
In my experience, it’s usually girls who write to me asking about “safe combinations,” side effects, or what’s still considered “normal.” Because when there’s no education, no support, and no language, you don’t have any idea on what you’re supposed to be feeling.
What Poland is (and isn’t) doing
For years, Poland has officially declared a commitment to youth drug prevention—but in practice, most efforts are shallow, random, and ineffective. Instead of long-term, evidence-based programs, young people are offered occasional visits from police officers, theatrical performances, or simplistic talks about “dangers.”
The numbers speak for themselves: according to a report by the Supreme Audit Office, more than 80% of Polish local authorities funded drug-related activities had no proven effectiveness—or did not check their impact at all. Municipalities spent ten times more funds on non-recommended events (like sports days) than on evidence-based interventions, rarely conducting evaluations of what was needed on the ground.
Even schools themselves—obligated by the national curriculum to carry out some form of substance use prevention, mostly relied on programs with no verified impact. Between 2016 and 2018, no recommended prevention program was implemented in 32% of primary schools and 35% of secondary schools.
With high access to substances, and interventions happening with no evaluation or monitoring for impact, many are left without clear information on how to stay safe, or the mechanisms to prevent harms from getting worse.
Can education be a remedy?
Young people don’t need moralising—they need spaces to ask questions and access reliable information in a destigmatised way. In a world where substances are widely available and mental health is under constant strain, education isn’t a luxury or bonus—it’s a basic tool of protection.
Every day, I receive dozens of messages like:
“Is mixing benzos and energy drinks a death sentence?”
“Do SSRIs drain serotonin from the brain?”
“What happens if I take fluoxetine and MDMA together?”
“Caffeine doesn’t work on me anymore—am I addicted?”
“Does microdosing LSD treat depression?”
“How can you tell if someone’s taken amphetamine?”
“Why do I get heart palpitations after THC?”
These aren’t stupid questions. They’re asked in a vacuum of systemic silence. We need an education that’s fit for the realities of drug use; an education that addresses mixing, dosages, tolerance, and risks. Education that builds skills instead of fear.
Until schools alter their approaches to drugs, I’m here to inform and educate. There are brilliant educators, content creators, streetworkers, and grassroots initiatives doing this important work. But we exist because the system is falling short of what needs to be done.
