Thoughts on Schools

The school system, as we know it, is both a marvel of human achievement and a frustrating relic of the past. On the one hand, it has scaled education to billions, lifting countless individuals out of ignorance and into opportunity. On the other, it has clung stubbornly to a model better suited to an assembly line than the dynamic, diverse realities of modern life. It is a paradox, offering both immense value and glaring limitations, especially as it struggles to adapt to the needs of today’s learners.

Let’s begin with the system’s uniformity. At its core, the modern school system is a product of the Industrial Revolution, designed to churn out workers who could read, write, and perform basic arithmetic—skills necessary for factories, not philosophers. Everyone learns the same thing at the same pace, following a rigid curriculum that assumes all students are identical widgets on an educational conveyor belt. The system makes little room for individuality or exploration. If your passions lie outside the curriculum—say, you’re fascinated by marine biology in second grade or quantum computing in tenth—well, tough luck. The curriculum isn’t about you; it’s about the system.

This rigidity is one of the system’s most glaring flaws. Change, though not impossible, is laborious. Teachers’ unions, while essential for protecting educators’ rights, often slow the pace of reform. Bureaucratic layers make introducing new methods or materials feel like navigating a labyrinth. Even when there’s agreement on the need for change, the mechanisms of implementation are cumbersome, leaving students stuck with outdated approaches while the world outside their classroom evolves at lightning speed.

And then there’s the crushing conformity. Schools are institutions where rebellion is quietly discouraged. Sure, students can choose electives or extracurriculars, but these choices often feel like garnishes on a plate already overflowing with mandated content. There’s little room for true deviation, little acknowledgment that learning is deeply personal and sometimes messy. The ideal of education—a one-on-one mentorship where a teacher guides a student’s curiosity and cultivates their unique talents—has been sacrificed on the altar of efficiency.

But all is not bleak. The school system, for all its flaws, has accomplished something extraordinary. It has democratized access to knowledge. The fact that education is no longer the exclusive domain of the wealthy or privileged is a testament to its success. And within its constraints, schools still manage to nurture creativity, critical thinking, and social skills. Dedicated teachers bring passion and innovation to classrooms, finding ways to inspire despite the system’s rigidity.

So, where do we go from here? Enter AI—the potential silver bullet that could bring us closer to the Aristotelian ideal. In the days of Aristotle, education was deeply personal. A philosopher and a pupil would sit under a tree, discussing the nature of existence, tailored entirely to the student’s abilities and interests. AI could recreate this dynamic at scale. Imagine an intelligent tutor that adapts to each student’s pace, interests, and needs, offering personalized guidance in a way that no standardized curriculum ever could.

AI doesn’t just promise personalization; it offers flexibility. It can teach students in ways that resonate with them individually, whether through text, visuals, or interactive simulations. It can also fill gaps in the curriculum, allowing students to explore topics far beyond what their schools traditionally offer. And unlike human teachers, AI doesn’t tire, doesn’t get bogged down by bureaucracy, and can operate 24/7.

Of course, this isn’t to say that AI will—or should—replace human educators. Rather, it should augment their abilities, freeing them to focus on the interpersonal aspects of teaching that no machine can replicate. Teachers could become more like mentors, guiding students through their unique learning journeys instead of simply delivering content.

The school system, like any institution, is a product of its time. It was designed to meet the needs of an industrial age, and it has done so admirably. But we’re no longer in that age, and the system’s cracks are beginning to show. By embracing tools like AI and reimagining what education can be, we have a chance to return to its original purpose: fostering curiosity, creativity, and a lifelong love of learning. The future of education doesn’t have to be a factory—it could be a garden, where every mind grows in its own way. And isn’t that a future worth striving for?