Why we Need to Humanize the Education System

Education is never far from every contentious debate and each controversial discussion. After all, our children are the faces of tomorrow; what we teach them will build the world as they know it, so it’s understandable that there would be some debate about who decides what these children—these future entrepreneurs, architects, engineers, artists, doctors, lawyers, and teachers, are taught.

Is it the government? Their teachers? Their parents? 

It was the latter for me. I grew up in rural Tennessee, which is ranked #41 in education out of the 50 states. Because of this, my parents decided to homeschool me. When we moved to suburban Pennsylvania ten years later, I entered my Freshman year of high school, being public schooled for the first time in my life. 

There’s this stereotype that homeschoolers are anxious, socially awkward, and even vastly less intelligent than their public schooled peers. I’d like to think that I defied that notion throughout my years at high school. I don’t know. Maybe I just confirmed it. But I don’t care, because that’s not the truth. Some of the most brilliant people I know were homeschooled. They got ten times the education of anyone at a public high school because they were taught the one thing the public education system would never support: they were taught to love learning.

We are living in a world that suffers from an educational industrial complex. Our schools ship out children like boxes, prioritizing uniformity over diversity, ‘productivity’ over creativity, and performance over originality. Maximum efficiency, minimum variation seems to be the mantra of the public education system.

When do we look back and ask ourselves, “What are we really teaching kids?” When do we realize that all these teachers we celebrate for their ability to teach and inspire are the ones who fight the hardest against the broken system?

Because that’s the thing. They know the cure to our educational industrial complex. They know it better than any politician ever could. The solution is to see children as people because they are. It’s not to teach math. It’s not to teach writing. It’s not to teach science, or art, or history, or any other subject. The cure is to teach kids, and to teach them to learn. 

It was about twelve months into my public school “career” as it were, when I was walking home from school one day, smiling. I looked around at the Autumn leaves and breathed in the cool, brisk air, and sighed, just bubbling with happiness. I asked myself why I hadn’t done this my whole life; why hadn’t I been public schooled? After all, what could be worth depriving a child of socialization?

The next day a kid in my honors geometry class asked what a square was, dead serious. That put things into perspective.

I began to realize that I was coming into the public education system past the massive hurdle that is middle school. My first non-homeschooled grade was my freshman year of high school. Everyone’s confused, everyone’s adjusting to something new.

I fit in—Which was great, considering that’s the only way to survive in a public high school. I asked a moment ago what are we teaching kids? People like to use the analogy of every student being a puzzle piece. Each one is unique, and each one fits perfectly into the bigger picture. That’s wonderful, but what is the bigger picture we’re saying they fit into? Even more importantly: who is painting that picture?

I’ll tell you right now: it’s the government and it’s wrong. 

Therein lies the root of the educational industrial complex: the notion that forcing kids into the narrative we write is the easiest and best course of action. But there is no reason behind the maxim which states that what is good is what is easy, and what is easy is what is right. If we claim that our kids will build tomorrow, we must ask ourselves what tomorrow we are teaching them to build. One of freedom, and happiness? One of liberty, and beauty? Or one that will mirror the grey reality of stone and steel we have built as walls around them? How can we expect them to be agents of change when the only change they’ve ever seen is for the worse? Where do justice and equity enter the picture when we allow our view of the world to be painted by those who defy the very notion of equality? 

We talk all the time about how unequal the education system is, about how broken it is, and everyone seems to agree that it needs to change. But before any progress can be made, we have to realize that the chains that bind underprivileged minorities to the dirt underneath the feet of people who look like me are manufactured by the very students who are forced into filling the seats of those who need them most. 

In a 2016 article about the injustices that arise due to subconscious biases in teachers, Kirsten Weir writes that “[M]any factors contribute to the achievement gap, including home and neighborhood environments and school factors unrelated to teachers' performance. But one dynamic is becoming impossible to ignore: Notable differences in the way black students are treated by teachers and school administrators.” (Weir) 

You don’t have to think for very long to realize how horrible that is, and again, no one is going to argue that discrimination is okay. But why, then, is it still so prevalent? Why has nothing changed in the years since this and many similar articles were published? Because the system hasn’t changed.

The entirety of the public school system is built on the ideal, average student. But what even is that? We claim that nobody is average, and that every person is unique, yet we have built a system that belies the very notion of originality. “We educate children by batches, and govern their lives by ringing bells. All day long, students do nothing but follow instructions. Sit down, take out your books, turn to page 40, solve problem number three, stop talking” (Next School).

We expect our students to express themselves—but follow the rules; to think outside the box—but color in the lines; to be who they are—unless who they are is someone we don’t like; to dream big—but not inside these walls you don’t. 

In fact, kids, it’s best that you all just look the same and act the same and be the same. Because the system is built to shape you, not be shaped by you. It’s made to smash you into the mold of the impossible “ideal child,” all the while telling you not to pretend to be someone you aren’t. And one day down the line, you’ll get to build the bridges of society, but first, you’ve got to calculate their angles. Oh, and don’t make any mistakes—those are for teachers and admin. After all, the point isn’t for you to learn, except that which is necessary for you to pass the tests and get the school more funding.

And no, I’m not arguing that schools don’t need funding. I’m asking where the funding goes. It’s not for transportation for students. It’s not paying the teachers. It’s not constructing more school buildings to eliminate overcrowding. It’s certainly not going into the school lunches. 

“As the U.S. economy continues to improve, according to news headlines, one area is still feeling the squeeze from the recession years: K-12 public school spending…34 states are contributing less funding on a per student basis than they did prior to the recession years [and s]ince states are responsible for 44 percent of total education funding in the U.S., these dismal numbers mean a continued crack down on school budgets despite an improving economy. If we cannot find the funding for our public schools, how can we expect things like the achievement gap to close or high school graduation rates to rise?” (Lynch)

But what, then, is the solution? If the problem is this great, and this deep, how can we ever hope to remedy it? Even better, can we hope to remedy it? 

Yes; the very reason this problem has survived so long is that we’ve given up; the people who are responsible for building the system are the ones who were brought up inside it. We don’t always realize just how much better the world could be. We get stuck in our narrow trench, with blinders on our eyes, and we give up hope. The solution, then, is to listen to those who haven’t: the teachers. Despite the flaws, they keep working. Despite the shortcomings, they keep teaching. Why? Because they have a passion for the system that is unmatched by anyone who’s legislating it. But they’re being driven away en masse because the system refuses to change with the times. 

We claim that our goal is for children to succeed because of their education, but the real successes happen despite it. I’ve never met a student who had the same respect for the system as they did for the teachers who work in it. The entire education system is so broken that the only way a teacher can teach kids is to act in rebellion against it. “[T]he teacher shortage, ultimately, impacts all community members and requires drastic changes at the governmental level to ensure the education system can continue to function at an optimal level.” (Karovski) That’s where the problem lies, but we have to realize that the solution lies with it. We need to listen to educators; they know the solution. We need to elect teachers; they can solve the problem. And we need to build a system that promotes originality, diversity, equity, and inclusion; uniqueness, openness, eagerness, and willingness to learn, both in and outside the classroom. 

Yes, we need math teachers. And yes, we need English teachers. But more than that, we need child teachers. We need teachers who tell kids, “When they say ‘the sky’s the limit’ you build spaceships. When the status quo rubs you the wrong way, you blow the roof off. When you see injustice, you don’t look the other way. You look it in the eye and don’t back down until it’s six feet under the foundation of a brand-new world.”

We need teachers that aren’t the sparks that light a fire, but are blazing fires that send out the sparks. And we need a system that lets them do it.