How school stole our purpose
And how to protect yourself against aimlessness
Hello everyone. Thanks for tuning in. Today’s post strays from my typical style, but I had fun writing and feel compelled to share it. Not only because I’m proud of and staunchly believe in what I wrote, but because I think it’s important, at the very least, that people hear this perspective, even if they don’t agree with it.
Right now, this letter is scheduled to be posted later today, as I will be busy tonight and unable to work for at least the next several days, since I’m having surgery tomorrow.
I will do my best to keep posting regularly—and perhaps I’ll have more time to write since I’ll be bedridden—but I just wanted to share this message because I don’t know how long it’ll be before I’m level-headed again (not that I ever really am).
Thank you to everyone who has supported my family and I in these last several months. I do my best to thank everyone individually, but I am certain, for how loved my father was, that I’ve missed sharing more than a few rightfully due hugs. We love and are so inarticulably grateful for you all.
Before you proceed, I just want to say that, though I may come across as spiteful in this rant, I am very grateful for my education. Not only has school brought into my life so many good people, but I am incredibly lucky to have been raised in an area with such quality schools. What I’ve experienced and what opportunities I’ve been afforded are second to none, and I mean in no way to detest what I’ve been so graciously blessed with.
I believe education—in or out of the school system—is a beautiful thing and I want only to do my part preserving and advancing so valuable an asset.
If you have a little extra time, you’d help me a ton by liking, commenting, and/or sharing this post with anyone you think would like to read it.
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The greatest secular contributor to the 21st-century West’s widespread lack of purpose is the school system.
Because to feel purposeful, you must be capable of solving problems.
And since the market has changed so drastically in the last half-century, schools now struggle, especially in particular fields of study, to teach relevant problem-solving skills (or, at the very least, to show students how what they’re learning is valuable).
Why have schools struggled to keep up? Because (1) they (especially public schools) generate income regardless of the quality of their product and therefore lack incentive to adjust, and (2) because, as is a similar case with healthcare, it’s hard to put a finger on the origin of the problem—both because there are countless overlapping factors and because the significant lag in ROI on education makes it difficult to link cause and effect.
Nevertheless, while various cheap and relevant online educational resources have surged in quantity, thereby proving the validity of new and improved models, schools have been incredibly reluctant to change their ways.
While a traditional education might prepare students—though merely for having a piece of paper certifying the completion of coursework—for employment, it does little to prepare them for much else (and, again, I’m referring to particular fields of study—I’m not talking about the trades, or engineering, or any degree that translates directly to an increased problem-solving and income-generating potential).
Schools have mistakenly placed the ability to attain employment at the peak of their value hierarchy.
Now (setting aside the fact that autonomy is becoming both more possible and more desired by “workers”), you might say that the ability to attain employment is important . . . That students must be able to enter the workforce when they finish their education, as a job is the ROI of an education. But you’re forgetting the fact that the purpose of employment is to earn money and that the best way to earn money is to add value.
You see, for reasons not entirely clear to me, schools prioritize ends—grades, test scores, and completion of coursework—over the learning process (whose ultimate purpose should be to improve the skillset and, therefore, value students bring to the market).
Perhaps this is because administrators do not trust teachers to do their job and believe the heavy hand of standardization is the only way to ensure progress, or because these ends determine funding (which is, at the grade-school level, outrageous, not only because children needn’t be perpetually evaluated, but because the grading system itself is a flawed method of evaluating student ability), or maybe even because that’s just how it is, and nobody in charge is bold enough to adamantly critique the system that’s been in place for so long.
Regardless, students do not leave school knowing how to solve real-world problems but how to earn good grades and score high on tests since that is what earns them the piece of paper they need for employment.
As a side note, I must mention that knowing how to solve problems and add value is the single most important factor in wealth creation.
So, yes, the world has gotten more expensive. My generation is apparently the first in many set to be poorer than our parents.
But perhaps it’s not just that the government has printed too much money. Perhaps it’s also that my generation doesn’t know how to create wealth—how to add value—as well as generations past since we’re learning the same things our parents learned in school while the market has an entirely new set of problems that need to be solved.
I’m not saying that fundamental subjects aren’t important. They are. However, not only are we teaching them the wrong way (by, once again, prioritizing grades over the learning process), but we’re failing to show students why what they’re learning is valuable.
Forcing students to learn something without showing them why that skill or lesson is valuable is not only torturous but akin to forcing farmers to buy a machine (a potentially useless machine, at that) without showing them what to use it for.
Every student feels like Daniel in Karate Kid before Mr. Miyagi shows him how all the seemingly useless cleaning tasks he’s been performing on repeat have ingrained within him vital karate defense techniques. And the thing is that Daniel would never have known how to implement the skills he’d been practicing unless Mr. Miyagi showed him how to use them.
By placing the ability to earn employment at the top of their value hierarchy, schools are both overlooking the process that makes an individual capable of adding value and failing to help students lead purposeful lives (since people need to know how to solve problems and add value to live purposefully).
Students rightfully do not want to engage in today’s schoolwork because they don’t see how the work they’re doing moves them forward meaningfully. And unsurprisingly, since their work doesn’t feel meaningful, they revert to impulsive indulgence in their free time (which leads to its own host of problems).
Because students lack the skills and knowledge to lead purposeful lives, the lenses through which they view the world do not illuminate all the new problems that need to be solved, furthering their sense of aimlessness and hopelessness.
Young people literally do not see their place in the world because they don’t know how to contribute to it—a fact that both explains the inextricably giving nature of human beings and illuminates at least one reason for the comorbid and equally widespread sense of disconnection.
Worst of all, no matter how much their students object to the meaninglessness of schoolwork, educators refuse to look within since it is ultimately the curriculum to which their loyalties must lie.
It’s no longer a secret that many university degrees are overpriced. And it’s no surprise that countless “creators” and alternative online schools are, in turn, building and selling relatively cheap courses—yes, those same courses that your parents think are a rip-off since they’re not from an “accredited institution”—that translate to direct increases in earning capacity.
Indeed, part of the problem is that schools need to add certain content to their curriculum (more likely than not by recruiting educators with real-world experience rather than Ph. Ds) that increases the value of their product, but the majority of their problem could be solved by (1) teaching process over end, and (2) by showing students how the skills they’re acquiring create real-world value.
If a teacher can’t explain, for example, why it’s important to know how to solve a math problem, then they either need to spend more time articulating the value of that skill or drop it from their curriculum. I’m not saying that math isn’t important; I’m saying it’s important students know why they’re practicing math.
Not once in all my math classes did a teacher explain that even though we may not solve these problems in real life, we are improving our thought processes and thinking abilities by engaging in them. Was this because teachers did not think it was important their students understood why or because they were simply unaware of this fact?
For some reason, educators think students are only good enough for the “hypothetical” and will refer by default when questioned to the fact that “eventually,” the hypothetical work students engage with in class will translate to real-world value (without ever specifying how). The older I get, the more clear it becomes that the teachers, in fact, did not know why the hypothetical work was valuable . . . That they were just following curriculum guidelines.
Why does it seem like those in charge of educating the youth hardly ever sit down to seriously consider and articulate the tangible value of their services? Is it because they don’t want to go through the work of realizing they’re missing the target? Or is it because they’re so entrenched in academia that they are incapable of knowing what’s happening in the market?
Educators are so set on maintaining centuries-old standards that they’re overlooking the fact that they’re basically rendering helpless and, therefore, purposeless a whole generation of humans.
Students (and teachers, for that matter) need to engage with problems outside of school. How else would they know what’s valuable from what’s not?
Academia has become its own little bubble, and if it doesn’t change quickly, it will burst. Is it any wonder why professors both feel so underpaid and no longer hold the prestige they held in centuries past? Every year, they create less and less real-world value. Is it a coincidence that fewer people seem to read academic journals than ever before?
Is it not clear what’s going on? Don’t they see they’re over-evaluating and under-acting? Teachers spend nearly more time assessing than teaching!
Do these institutions—that study history more than any other organization—not see how they’re contributing to their own demise?
I know it’s not so simple. I know it’s got to do with money. And I know those in charge, whoever they are, don’t care nearly as much as the teachers educating future generations.
But it’s getting ridiculous. Of course, things need to get ridiculous for change to take place. But it’d be nice if we could wake up soon.
I’m not writing this to incite institutional change. I’m writing this for the individuals who read it.
I’m sure you’ve heard plenty on this matter already. Some might say what’s going on with education is intentional . . . That things are changing just slowly enough, like boiling frogs in a pot, for people not to take action.
I don’t know if that’s the case. I’m not even sure if it matters. But I do know that if you rely on a degree for your education, there’s a good chance you will enter the marketplace in debt and wondering why you feel undervalued.
Indeed, real-world experience increases your skillset, and the more time you spend at a job, the more skillful you become. A degree will certainly get your foot in many doors. But if you want to prosper, if you wish to thrive, and not to mention, if you want to be able to do something you really love, something that fosters a deep, fulfilling sense of purpose, hear me:
Invest in your education. Do not rely on a piece of paper. Be inherently valuable regardless of your accolades. Pursue a lifelong education not just because the gurus say it’s good but because your sense of purpose—especially in so rapidly changing a market—depends on it.
It’s true: your purpose doesn’t need to be your job. But to feel purposeful, you still need to know how to solve problems.
Stop giving so much time and energy to indulgence. Consumption is fleeting.
Read books. Buy courses. Attend seminars. Listen to podcasts. Invest in mentorship. They may seem expensive on paper, but they are far cheaper than college, and their ROI is much greater. Education opens your eyes to new, unexplored worlds.
School teaches us to put ourselves in boxes. It teaches us to limit ourselves, and to think narrowly. Do not think narrowly. Think expansively. Think without limitation. Think how you thought when you were a child before the world took you in its palm and smashed your dreams to pieces.
Your purpose is not some random identity. It’s not what you study in college nor what job title you hold. It’s not to be a psychologist, or to be a firefighter, or to be a teacher, or a financial analyst, or a biologist. It’s to be a human and to help other humans by solving their problems.