Impaired driving, to me, is any time someone gets behind the wheel when their mind, body, or emotions are not fully capable of handling the responsibility of driving. That can mean drinking or using drugs, of course, but it also includes being so tired that your eyes blur, so distracted by your phone that the road becomes background noise, or so emotionally overwhelmed that you’re not really processing what’s happening around you. What makes impaired driving especially dangerous is that people often think they’re still “okay to drive.” Even drivers who have completed driver’s education or traffic school can walk away remembering the test questions and laws, but quietly believing, “I can handle more than most people,” or “I’m just a little tired, not really impaired.” That gap between what we know on paper and what we believe about ourselves is where a lot of tragedy begins.

Alcohol today, is still a major cause of impaired driving. In 2023, 12,429 people in the United States died in alcohol-impaired driving crashes about one person every forty-two minutes. (NHTSA) Alcohol slows reaction time, blurs judgment, and makes people more likely to speed, run lights, or misjudge distance. Drugs—both illegal substances and certain prescription medications can distort perception, cause drowsiness, or make it hard to focus. At the same time, phones and in-car screens have created a different kind of impairment: distraction. Texting, changing playlists, or checking notifications takes eyes off the road and attention away from driving, even if the driver is completely sober. Fatigue works in a similar way. A driver who is exhausted may never touch a drop of alcohol, yet still drift out of their lane, miss a stop sign, or simply fail to react in time. All of these forms of impairment funnel into the same outcome: slower reactions, poor decisions, and unsafe behavior that puts everyone at risk.

One story that changed the way I think about impaired driving came from a video we watched in driver’s education. It followed a teenager who caused a crash while checking a notification at a red light. He looked down “for just a second,” rolled forward without noticing the light had changed, and hit a cyclist crossing the intersection. The video showed him telling the story years later, still struggling with the guilt of knowing that one glance at his phone permanently changed someone else’s life. Seeing his face, hearing how he had to live with that choice every day, made the issue feel personal, not abstract. It made me realize that impaired driving isn’t only about being “drunk enough” to fail a breath test; it’s about any moment where my convenience matters more to me than someone else’s safety. Since then, I’ve been much more deliberate about simple choices: silencing my phone, planning rides home before events, and being honest with myself when I’m too tired or upset to drive well.

Driver’s education and traffic school can be powerful tools for changing attitudes around impaired driving but only if they reach beyond memorizing laws. Programs are most effective when they combine clear facts with emotional impact and real-world practice. Statistics help us understand the scale of the problem. Stories from survivors, families, or first responders help us feel the cost. Simulators, videos, and scenario-based discussions show how quickly “just this once” can go wrong. When driver’s ed emphasizes decision-making like planning a designated driver, using ride share, or choosing to pull over rather than power through fatigue it turns safety into a skill, not just a rule. Traffic school for people who have already made a mistake can also be a turning point if it challenges excuses (“I was fine,” “everyone does it”) and replaces them with concrete strategies to avoid ever being in that situation again.

Personally, I believe I have a role to play in preventing impaired driving, even as a single student and young driver. First, I can commit to my own non negotiable: not driving after drinking, not riding with someone who is impaired, choosing to sleep or get a ride rather than drive exhausted, and keeping my phone out of my hands while I’m behind the wheel. Second, I can speak up when friends or family start to rationalize risky decisions. That might mean offering to drive, calling a ride for someone, or simply saying, “I care about you too much to be okay with this.” Third, I can use what I learn from driver’s education and safety campaigns to influence others sharing information in conversations, school projects, or even on social media, where a quick reminder or statistic can spark someone else to think twice.

Impaired driving is often framed as a problem of “other people” reckless strangers we imagine out on the road but the truth is that it’s a daily choice made by ordinary drivers. Driver’s education and traffic safety courses give us the information and tools we need, but it’s up to each of us to turn that knowledge into action. By taking my training seriously, challenging harmful attitudes, and modeling safer habits, I can help make impaired driving less acceptable in my circle. If enough of us do that, we don’t just pass a class or a test we help protect lives, including our own.