Is our current schooling system failing our young people?

Huey Newton once said of education:

“I did not have one teacher who taught me anything relevant to my own life or experience. Not one instructor ever awoke in me a desire to learn more or to question or explore the worlds of literature, science, and history. All they did was try to rob me of the sense of my own uniqueness and worth, and in the process they nearly killed my urge to inquire.”

At this very moment, the UK has one of the worst school dropout rates in the developed world. The education system under the current government is failing our young people. As of March 2018, over 808,000 young people—and counting—are not in any form of formal education, employment, or training. Many of those who should be our beacons of aspiration and individuality are choosing to leave school before reaching the legal school leaving age. Others, including some of the most talented minds of the next generation, are dropping out of university and further education in droves… and can we really blame them?

Let me be clear: this is not a criticism of our brilliant teachers, who continue to work tirelessly as consummate professionals. My frustration is with the government, and its negligent, short-sighted reforms that have gutted what was once a commendable and hopeful schooling system.

In today’s world, many students simply don’t want to be at school. They feel discontent, disillusioned, and disheartened—feelings only worsened by the Covid pandemic. They are discontent with being in the same uninspiring environment every day, unable to feel connected or motivated to learn. They are disillusioned by being used as pawns in a political game: expected to produce results, outpace international competitors, and reflect statistics that satisfy government agendas. These agendas are so far removed from the lives of real students, it’s as if our policymakers have forgotten what it feels like to be young. And they are disheartened by having to suffer through this broken system in silence—hoping, praying, that they eventually find their way. Again—can we blame them?

To those who react with indifference or blame the youth themselves—who say our young people are unfocused, lazy, or wayward millennials—I say: you are part of the problem. To the Michael Goves of the world, who respond by adding more “rigour” to a system already burning, I say: we blame you.

The stains left by Gove’s tenure as Education Secretary have seeped deeply into the fabric of our system. Rather than nurturing minds and promoting inclusive, holistic schooling, successive governments have favoured league tables, test-driven teaching, and monetary incentives. Is it any wonder that 1 in 8 secondary schools in England are failing?

The Arts have vanished from prominence. The broad and balanced curriculum that once encouraged future academics, entrepreneurs, artists, musicians, and sportspeople has been hollowed out. What remains is a robotic, narrow curriculum that adds little moral, spiritual, social, or cultural value. It doesn’t prepare young people for life. It prepares them to perform.

To the reformists and policymakers, I echo the words of the brilliant Suli Breaks: “I’m not saying school is evil and there’s nothing to gain, but all I’m saying is understand your motives and reassess your aims.” Gove may believe it looks good on paper to compete with Hong Kong, Massachusetts, Singapore, or Finland. But what’s the value of this petty competition when it reduces young people to trophies—symbols of national ego—rather than raising them as curious, compassionate, capable citizens?

I believe a more human, realistic, and meaningful education is possible. One where character education—through hidden curriculum, explicit modelling, and implicit culture—is embedded alongside strong teaching, behaviour, and socialisation. These are, in my view, the real indicators of a school’s success, regardless of what Ofsted may claim.

Disclaimer: My views are grounded in my experience working in inner-city schools facing significant deprivation. I do not deny that other contexts may benefit from different approaches. This piece reflects my thoughts on the former—and only the former.