Can we stop fitting kids into our boxes?

let’s empower their innate curiosity and potential

An used book arrived from Amazon. It was titled, “Being and Nothingness”, and I caressed the cover with great affection, as though Sartre was the grandfather I never had.

My mind drifted, as she always does, pondering the adult I could have been, had I been exposed to philosophy at a much younger age.

The what-ifs

I grew up disempowered in a system that prides on academic excellence and conformity at any cost. I never had anybody who told me I can be anybody I wanted to be. I was only told to stop dreaming. I fought for my individuality and my dreams in any way I could, but over the years apart from the defiant resilience I acquired, I also developed a sense of paralyzing numbness. To be resilient we learn to put up walls, and one day we wake up to find out we cannot even reach ourselves beyond those walls.

There are many what-ifs we ask ourselves. What if I could learn anything I was curious about instead of those subjects that bored me to tears? What if I had authority figures who nurtured and encouraged my differences instead of being bent on exerting their power in anyway they can? What if at age twelve I was interested in reading Sartre and understanding quantum physics instead of spending my best formative years memorizing facts that hardly anyone remembers after leaving school?

I would grow up with so much less pain from fighting to be me, I would spend a lot more time being creative and productive instead of having to work so hard to recondition my mind to believe my existence is worthwhile in a dysfunctional society. I would spend my time exchanging ideas with like-minded people, and not spend any fraction of my energy worrying about being understood by those of a different frequency.

Imaginary obstacles

Sometimes all we need is one person in our lives to affirm our creative potential. To demonstrate that linear progression can sometimes be a fallacy and a society construct. That we can be capable of defining our own constructs. Why can’t I read Sartre at age twelve? If there was someone who would listen to a twelve year old talk about her existential crisis, if that someone could direct me to an appropriate shelf of books, I would be running at full speed living the life I should be leading instead of tripping over imaginary obstacles.

I grew up thinking it was just me. Till I started meeting one by one, similar experiences of other people permanently scarred by the education system we belonged to, having to spend copious amounts of time covering up those scars that would never heal. We are all tied by a common thread of destiny — to dedicate ourselves to a lifetime of work that will contribute towards a world that will truly empower our next generations.

Boxes

Every now and then I meet some young person, mostly in their teens. Some of them contemplate erasing their existence, others condemning themselves to a life of mediocrity because they had failed in the system. Many of these kids fail precisely because they are driven by their creative impulses and do not learn by regurgitation. Some survive brilliantly, because they have an empowering figure in their lives, telling them they are still capable despite the system. Others thrive when forced to be in a foreign system because the local system rejected them. Many of us are not that blessed. Our authority figures are part of the system. The people who love us want us to fit into the system using any means because that is the easiest way to survive.

Imagine having your entire formative years being told you are dumb or disappointing by the very same people you should trust and respect, because of your grades in a system that was not even designed to empower learning? Where would you find the capacity to believe otherwise? If you have never seen a rainbow in your life, would you believe it is true?

We are handicapping some of our young minds, if not most of them. By fitting them into pre-configured boxes, we are telling them these are the only boxes they can grow in. We will not have opportunities to see how they would grow, flourish and surprise us, if we keep on insisting these boxes are the only channel for us to groom our next generations.

I will read Sartre now, in my thirties. It is never to late to expand our minds. I cannot turn back time. I consider myself blessed to be able to reignite my passion for self-directed learning. I want to remember those debilitating emotions for the rest of my life, so I can never, ever, choose the easy way out by giving up the pursuit of my life’s work — to contribute towards building a world that will be proud of our next generations’ capacities instead of trying to make them be more like us.