Here’s what I (un)learned from my high school education
Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the education system and how my experiences have shaped my approach to teaching.
I always looked forward to that second week of September when school would start in Albania. My love for school was, perhaps, unusual. I loved summer breaks too; they meant I could spend time with my grandparents, aunts — and uncles — and spend time with cousins who were also friends. We were all close in age, which made playtime fun.
The high school experience, on the other hand, was not a smooth one. Whose was? I was in the so-called best high school in my city. Not only was it a competitive high school, but it was also one of the few in the country to be part of an experimental program that started the year I enrolled.
The topics covered were more advanced than those typically found in high school curricula, yet the available textbooks were riddled with typos and errors. The situation, coupled with low teacher salaries and occasional incompetence, led to a surge in private courses — taught by the same instructors who were responsible for teaching the material in schools, particularly those specializing in the hard sciences.
These private courses covered classroom material, facilitating learning for students who could afford to take them. Not everybody could. The instructors would also go over the material assigned as homework (prior to the homework deadline), giving not only knowledge but also an advantage to students who took private tutoring.
In class, these teachers would mostly cause terror. The objective of this terror was to get the rest of the students to enroll as well. The classroom environment was mostly unpleasant, especially in math and chemistry.
Some of us, about 20% of the cohort, had to see our math teacher five days a week due to our specialization being more technical; we even had a double session on Fridays. Our chemistry teacher was also a frequent presence, with classes roughly three to four times a week. Physics and Biology were heavy loads as well, followed by the rest of the subjects. (Those who opted for a classical specialization had a shifted focus: more literature, history, geography, etc.)
Due to the high content load, we had to select which homework to tackle and which subjects got priority. At least I did. It was almost impossible to do everything. I focused mainly on Math, Biology, and Literature; the latter two subjects I found also very interesting and the instructors nourished that curiosity.
But this is an article about unlearning, rather than learning, so let me dive in on what I had to unlearn.
Learning, as life, should not be about suffering (not fun). Especially no fun in STEM-related subjects.
As an instructor, through experimenting, I realized that my students learned better when we had fun in class, including visualizing our data with colorful palettes. I am not only talking about jokes; some of my peers are great at this.
Jokes, of course, are absolutely welcome. But, personally, I am not good at delivering them; my jokes fall flat. (I’m told that is due to a lack of voice inclination… Although in my head, my jokes sound great. If I were on the receiving end, I’d laugh hard.) Fun in the classroom can also be interesting exercises to solve together with peers and instructors.
While I recognize that there is some value in suffering — although only a bit — because it makes us better humans and more empathetic toward the struggles of others, I do believe this to be true. In fact, this article, as well as most of my other articles, wouldn’t exist without some level of inflicted pain. However, I find that unnecessary pain in a classroom environment can be counterproductive.
During my — relatively short — teaching career, I’ve come to realize that by having fun in the classroom, students are more motivated and interested in the material, which ultimately leads to better retention too. Learning can be fun and productive at the same time.
Fear is the best motivator. In my experience, fear is indeed a great motivator. The fear I had in me through high school, and university — as my scholarship depended on my exams — was a significant motivator for me.
The reason I devoted so much time to math outside of school was because of love and fear. Despite my genuine love for the subject, a major factor was the terror our math teacher inflicted on us all. This was especially true for me, for two main reasons. First, he had preconceptions about what someone serious about math should look like. He strongly disapproved of my involvement in extracurricular activities like theatre, journalism, or the youth parliament. Second — that never ceases to surprise me every time I think about it — he seemed to have a one-sided, implicit competition with my father who was also trained in math and physics.
I consistently tried to keep up with the material and prove to him that I, too, was good at math, despite his efforts to minimize my achievements. (He used to claim that my father was the reason I was able to solve hard geometry problems few were able to solve independently. It wasn’t the case. Although sometimes I wish he had.)
In the case of chemistry, I minimized my efforts, partly because I knew my parents had my back. Seeing the stress the subject was causing me, my mom literally tore up the textbook. A book that she had fought hard to get, together with the other rare textbooks I needed. ‘Can you at least pass it?’ my mother asked. ‘I believe so’ I responded. In the end, every year, I managed to score higher than just a passing grade, although it wasn’t a great grade.
But fear is not the best motivator. Love is. As an instructor, I believe that love and curiosity are better motivators in learning rather than fear. I think that my students learn better in safe environments. I think we all flourish in environments where we are not afraid to ask questions and apply critical thinking.
Fear and stress may help achieve short-term results — and drive students to try to memorize information in order to regurgitate it for a test — but fear doesn’t necessarily lead to a deep understanding or a love for learning. It mostly achieves the opposite.
Because I say so. In a traditionalist setting influenced by a communist past, the teacher’s word is often considered the final authority. Such a setting discourages questioning and curiosity.
If any of us dared to ask why some decisions were made, there would be either a major backlash or reprimands; to avoid this, we wouldn’t ask for clarifications.
But when it comes to decision-making, many good leaders — and parents — know that explaining the reasoning behind a decision can lead people to trust you more and be more likely to follow your advice (and even remain loyal).
This understanding of the reason behind a decision motivates us to move in the suggested direction. The decision to follow the advice comes from a place of trust and mutual respect, rather than from a sense of obligation to comply, even if one doesn’t fully agree or understand.
Learning is a one-way street. In my high school, due to the unquestionable authority of the instructors, teaching and learning were carried out in such a way that learning seemed a one-way street. There was no room for improvement as a teacher.
In my case, there have been several occasions when I’ve learned from my students. It actually started from the very first course I taught, Microeconomics, in Stockholm during my Ph.D. studies. I remember a student asking a question in class, and I thought, and probably said it out loud, “That’s a very interesting take; I never thought of it in that light.”
I think there’s a misconception that teaching means being the “sage on the stage” who knows everything and shares information in a one-way direction. I, personally, love it when my students challenge me. There’s always something to learn from everyone, including how to tailor the material to a specific cohort.
All-or-nothing mentality. In my school, they used to teach us that if you’re not the best at something, better not do it.
But, you can contribute to a field even if you’re not necessarily “the best”.
The woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those who sang best.— Henry Van Dyke.
Being the best in something implies specializing in that topic obsessively to some extent. And, while I value the power of specialization, I think a lot of breakthroughs happen from multidimensional thinking, and being a bit of a generalist helps. (See, for example, this great book.)
Many generalists are unlikely to excel in all the fields they learn about and contribute to, but their thinking is highly valuable for scientific breakthroughs. I think those that criticize the generalist approach, may miss the point that having a generalist mindset can actually lead to mastery in one’s main field because of the ability to connect different ideas and approaches.
Memorization is the way to learn. In traditional educational settings, memorization often is the leading force rather than understanding. We are taught to cram facts, dates, and formulas, but rarely do we get the chance to apply this knowledge in a meaningful way.
Over a conversation, my brother once said “I think it would have been nice that instead of memorizing dates about Napoleon Bonaparte’s battles, we were more aware of his principles, policies, politics, and of course, important battles. Were all those dates really that important?” I agree with him, few of us remember all of them.
Sometimes, I really wish I could be back in high school and learn from examples and experiments rather than memorizing facts about molecules and laws that I have no use for today.
I do see value in being able to retrieve information from the top of your head. However, in an era where information is readily accessible, we have the opportunity to free up mental effort. Instead of memorizing, say, coding syntax, we can focus on understanding the high-level concepts that govern how things work. With that mental space freed up, we can either learn new high-level concepts, or take some time to rest, play, or engage in more creative pursuits :-)
The memorization approach not only makes learning tedious but also fails to equip students with the skills they need to solve real-world problems. That effort is better spent on understanding the big picture, the “why” behind the facts, and learning how to apply the knowledge. I believe that skills like critical thinking, research, and problem-solving are more important than ever and should be the cornerstone of modern education.
We all learn in the same way. This is perhaps the concept I dislike the most. The notion that ‘we all learn the same way’ is a common misconception in traditional educational settings.
Our classroom’s methodologies mostly revolve around the concept that we all learn in the same way and at the same speed. This is not necessarily the case. Some of us are more visual creatures, while others are more spatial or auditory. Some are left-handed, and some are right-handed, and that’s fine. (In our education system, we were even forced to use our right hand for writing. Conformity and forced homogeneity were at the core of communist values, which were preserved also during our high school years.)
The rise of Khan Academy, Coursera, and other online learning platforms such as Udemy, Udacity etc., has been successful because they offer alternative approaches to education. These platforms demonstrate that when people are engaged with visuals, can progress at their own pace, and can create their own curricula, they are more likely to deepen their knowledge and retain information. I myself have taken many coding courses on Udemy and have found inspiration for my own teaching across all these platforms, including the ‘God’ of them all where educators post all types of content — including very visually appealing content— YouTube.
I try to be a different teacher than most of my high school teachers were. When a new course starts, I have a checklist of boxes to tick.
1- Trust and transparency. I try to create an atmosphere for my students to safely express ideas without feeling judged or labeled.
2- Encourage discussions with learning as the main goal. I try to engage peer learning and act as a facilitator in class, rather than the highest authority. I try to leverage the strength of each student to make the learning environment more inclusive and peer learning stronger.
3- Communicate my (and the course’s) mission, vision, values, and goals. I frequently tell my students that my classrooms are learning environments, and I am interested in their learning. In my Machine Learning and coding courses, I have to over-emphasize that these topics are extremely broad; however, the aim is to build strong foundations for them to be able to tackle these subjects on their own later.
4. Provide clear descriptions of roles and responsibilities, including documentation of progress and tasks. — Leave the freedom of implementation to students. Life is messy, and they are not going to be given exact directions on how to get from A → B. They can go directly, by passing through Z (A -> Z -> B) or through Z and Y such as A -> Z -> Y -> B. All of these are valid.
This year, I will try to give more agency to students, making them more in charge of their learning. Ideally, I’d lecture less and act more as a facilitator of class discussion, helping them think critically about the challenges they face.
Going through the Albanian educational system taught me several lessons about what to do, and especially what not to do. These experiences have not only shaped me as a person but have also deeply influenced my approach as an educator.
I’ve learned that we are all subject to biases, but personal vendettas should, ideally, not have a role in our classrooms.
I’ve come to realize that education is not just about filling minds with facts, but also about creating a safe, inclusive, and stimulating environment where students can grow intellectually and emotionally. It’s about recognizing that each student is unique, with their own strengths, weaknesses, and learning styles.
Also, it seems to me that the traditional educational system focuses more on short-term results rather than long-term growth.
Now I know that education is a two-way street. Educators can learn just as much from their students, be it solely on how to deliver the content to that particular group of individuals in front of them.
Teaching should not only be about feeding students information. To me, it should be about helping them think for themselves, develop their own intellectual curiosity, and how to learn.
I used to step into the classroom — physical or virtual — carrying these lessons subconsciously with me. Currently, they are becoming more conscious. I have collected some teaching methods from many of my university professors, who happen to be my mentors at different points in time. I also strive to be a version of the teacher I wish I had.
As a teacher who values trust encourages discussion and sees the classroom as a collaborative space for discovery and growth, I realize that my approach often means that many of my students also need to unlearn the unhealthy teaching and learning methods they encountered in their former high schools or universities.
Finally, I’ve come to realize that fun education, as in life, is an important ingredient for learning and retention. At least my experience says so.
