Proud and able young citizens!
How the school system misses the opportunity to take care of its side effects – mental illness and learning fatigue – by focusing too much on knowledge goals.
A lot can be said about Western school systems. I can think of few societal functions that have as many and as strong opinions from as varying levels of expertise as the institutions that we commonly refer to as schools. For good reason, I imagine. Considering that they are a major part of our children’s upbringing, there are of course plenty of opportunities for concern, evaluation and new ideas.
I have a friend who is working at the heart of mid-teen schooling and, therefore, adolescent epiphanies. Jens works as a headmaster at an elementary school in Sweden. He makes sure some 150 pupils, aged 14-16, and just over 20 highly qualified teachers, have what they need to spend their days learning forward. When we discuss the Swedish school system, Jens takes an open approach to my outside perspective. I find this both generous and surprising, since I know the amount of good ideas and simplified problem-framing school staff is forced to endure in all possible social situations.
Me and Jens often end up in dynamic arguments. He is a professional with years of practical experience and hard-earned wisdom on what works and what doesn’t. I am an emphatic amateur and a parent with some years of additional experience as chairman of the board at a small Montessori school. In terms of facts and examples, Jens, without a doubt, outranks me. I may have a few ideological points to score, but his knowledge usually wins the battle.
Our last debate, however, led us to an unexpected draw. I had been checking out the latest version of the national plan for Swedish elementary schools to see if there were other primary goals to strive for than those related to knowledge. I hadn’t been able to find any significant ones, so I checked with Jens. He admitted that the Swedish school system is indeed guided by a very strong emphasis on attaining knowledge goals, but he further added that the goals should be achieved by utilising the students’ specific abilities and accommodating their individual needs.
We were of fairly equal opinion enough to continue, and I felt encouraged by establishing common ground. It was an ideal juncture/moment for my next question: I asked Jens how well he thought this single-minded goal served the students. He suggested that I might elaborate on the question a bit more. I continued by gently asking if too much focus on knowledge could lead to learning fatigue, and perhaps that the ability to process a curriculum of knowledge in a certain order might vary amongst the students.
Jens contemplated the questions for a moment and then he answered. In his view, the transfer of knowledge is too narrow a goal for a full-time school system, and there are not near enough resources to adapt the learning process to each student’s curiosity or ability. As a consequence, learning fatigue and Neurodevelopmental Disorder (NDD) diagnoses are on a steep rise, which takes resources from teaching. Our mutual conclusion was that, although knowledge always is a positive, the value of it would be significantly reduced when multiplied by empowerment close to zero.
I went home thinking that if we create systems for a common purpose, shouldn’t we at least make sure that the side effects of the system don’t erode its intended output? In fact, why are the side effects even treated as side effects? If they have such an influence, perhaps minimising them should be part of the original purpose.
As a former engineer, I remembered how goals could be defined as functions of many variables. A cruise control in a car, for instance, would not be very good if it only focused on maintaining a certain speed and neglected safety aspects or fuel consumption. Therefore the combined objective is not just to maintain the target speed, but to do so while optimising fuel economy and adapting to traffic.
The Swedish government monopoly on alcohol is a good, non-technical example. Systembolaget (the state-controlled company for the sale of alcoholic beverages) was created to reduce the harmful effects of alcohol in the population, but at the same time provide the service of selling alcohol. They were to sell alcoholic experience but not alcoholic addiction. They therefore defined their goal as a function of both. To maximise the experience of alcoholic beverages (which they do by offering unparalleled product range and advice), but without harming public health.
I asked a friend who works there, if it was difficult to have two conflicting work instructions and he said that he would rather regard it as occupational pride. Instead of just conveying his sommelier expertise he also exercised his social and people skills. He also confirmed that the multiple purpose was indeed present in his everyday work.
So how come we don’t question our single-minded goals for the school system? Or demand that the goals are more on target with what we actually want? If we want to help facilitate proud and able citizens into our society through a compulsory 12-year curriculum during their most formative years, why don’t we do a better job at defining what we mean by proud and able?
When I think of how curious and self-confident my own two girls approached their first term in school as 6-year-olds, I find it totally unacceptable that we can allow any of our children to graduate from this system in their late teens, as exhausted and incurious young citizens with less than excellent self-esteem.
Actually, this is exactly what good teachers and headmasters do. They go beyond the school system’s one-sided knowledge goals and pursue the additional objectives of learning while maintaining curiosity and self-esteem. Keep an eye out for them and make sure you send them some extra appreciation!