Education has proven itself to be a blessing and a curse. As we bury our heads in textbooks, memorizing facts, skimming countless pages for meaningless answers to meaningless questions, we, as students, tend to only see it as a curse. And maybe, Sigmund Freud’s idea of dualism applies here, but of course, I wouldn’t remember. I took that test in middle school. Learned about the ego, the id, the superego, and I suppose my ego decided that I didn’t need to know that anymore. Teacher James Andreson , in his work entitled “Spinach”, wrote of “knowledge whose only purpose was to be regurgitated on a test and then forgotten.” And maybe, as he says, education as it presents itself today is indeed like boiled spinach, bland, familiar, and inefficient. But maybe, education, as it could be, is a three course meal: A meal suited for kings. And we can order a new appetizer, entree, and dessert every day off our own, mile long menus.
We often take advantage of our learning, for we do not even see that we are learning at all. We don’t see that we’re learning, and maybe we truly aren’t. Maybe this one-size-fits-all system to which we’ve become accustomed doesn’t even fit anyone at all. Students do not fit into specific categories, no matter how hard you force them to. You can’t simply dig three gaping holes in the ground, line your students up, and choose whether they are “over-achievers,” “under-achievers,” or students who you consider “regular.” You can’t feed textbooks to the “over-achievers” and assignments to the “regular” kids, nor can you leave those “under-achievers” there to rot, unattended to and unaccounted for. Every pupil needs her or his own set of boundaries and his or her own state of mind, for every pupil is different.
Perhaps it is impossible to cater to every student with a three course meal suited for royalty. But maybe it’s time we started writing up our menus and getting into that lunch line that’ll fulfill our needs as students.
We often take advantage of our learning, for we do not even see that we are learning at all. We don’t see that we’re learning, and maybe we truly aren’t. Maybe this one-size-fits-all system to which we’ve become accustomed doesn’t even fit anyone at all. Students do not fit into specific categories, no matter how hard you force them to. You can’t simply dig three gaping holes in the ground, line your students up, and choose whether they are “over-achievers,” “under-achievers,” or students who you consider “regular.” You can’t feed textbooks to the “over-achievers” and assignments to the “regular” kids, nor can you leave those “under-achievers” there to rot, unattended to and unaccounted for. Every pupil needs her or his own set of boundaries and his or her own state of mind, for every pupil is different.
Perhaps it is impossible to cater to every student with a three course meal suited for royalty. But maybe it’s time we started writing up our menus and getting into that lunch line that’ll fulfill our needs as students.