Читать книгу The Lessons School Forgot - Steve Sammartino - Страница 14

The industrial economy introduced a range of linear incentives and expectations that made complete sense when they were developed. It went something like this:

Go to school & Study hard & Get qualified & Get a good job with a stable company & Have a happy life.

You'll have heard this before. It was the narrative passed onto me by my parents. They did so for very good reason: it was literally the formula for financial success during the 20th century. But it requires some reading between the lines to understand its meaning, and once we do this we can see that the script for the in-between bits has changed without notice. Particularly the last two elements:

• Get a good job with a stable company: This was a cognitive short cut for the idea that you'd have a better chance of earning more money, for a longer period of time, with greater advancement possibilities and in better working conditions, under the financial umbrella of a big corporation. It was better than smaller companies because it had more power in the market and paid more than small businesses did. It also had the respect of the market, with a personal branding benefit for those who worked inside it. You could build a career in and around your big-company experience, earn above-average wages and do better than your parents did. Oh, and don't forget, you won't be picked by that good reputable firm unless you have the necessary formal qualifications. Qualifications spelt capability.

• Have a happy life: A good job earned good money, and money was the path to 20th-century happiness. The context of this one runs deep. We need to remember the world our parents and their parents emerged from. They didn't have access to the level of material comforts we do. And I'm not talking about toys and entertainment, but household articles we take for granted today like toiletries, overflowing cupboards, pantries and fridges, pushbutton heating and private transport on demand. This line of thinking has to be traced deeply, back to the lives of struggle and hardship endured by the generations that came before us. They lived through periods of war and economic depression when the most basic material necessities were in short supply for the working classes. So money became a proxy for happiness. Because if you had enough money, you could usually buy the things you needed, and with the things you needed how could you be anything but happy? So money was their yardstick for success in life. We've all since found that money doesn't come close to guaranteeing happiness, especially in a post-scarcity society. The times have changed, but many still believe this false proxy is valid.

The plan was for life to flow in a beautifully predictable, linear fashion:

Happiness comes from money – money comes from having a good job – a good job comes from a good (formal) education – a formal education comes from doing well at school – doing well at school requires following the rules.

Once we revisit the context of the cultural environment that shaped those who taught us, both at home and at school, we can understand why they encouraged us to think that way. Of course they had our best interests at heart. But if the formula was one that didn't suit your personality, your style, your way of thinking, then you'd be ostracised and your confidence might be shattered before you had even entered the post-school money game. Subconsciously society arranged us in a hierarchy: the more schooling you had, the higher up the ladder you'd be placed. Your potential and expectations would be a function of how far you rose in the pre-work system.

Sure, there were always exceptions, but for most of us our place in the hierarchy was ordained before we even started work. Forget the fact that our schooling was a limited test of our abilities and we might have incredibly valuable skills the system simply didn't recognise. None of that mattered; what counted was how we performed in the formal system. We had to conform to the schooling mindset and method in order to be chosen. The market might never find out how good we were and what we really had to offer, because we'd never be given the opportunity to show them what we could do outside of the exam template.

The education tightrope

By now there is a good chance you are thinking I am anti-school. Nothing could be further from the truth. Education is without doubt the cornerstone of all the possibilities I've taken advantage of in my life, and probably in yours too. It's just that school is far too destination focused. Once we reach secondary or high school, our options become more and more narrowly focused. By the time we reach grade 8 we start making ‘career decisions' on which subjects we choose. Career decisions at a time when we still can't decide what we want to do on Friday night. If we stumble in a certain subject, we'll lose the opportunity to work through it. If we love a certain subject that happens to be less valued by the left-brain logic society, like art or drama, we'll be discouraged from pursuing it. If we fail in maths in grade 8, we won't be allowed to take it in grade 9, and if we don't have advanced maths how can we possibility go on to complete a reputable degree at university? If we change our mind on what path we want to follow in grade 11, we've missed out on the foundation years of subject X and we won't be allowed to change streams.

So we are forced to choose our science, arts or humanities path when we are relatively young, long before what is legally regarded as the age of reason. We are quickly siloed into our ‘chosen' trajectory for the remainder of our secondary schooling. School shifts from general to specific learning very quickly indeed. We are no longer learning how to learn; rather, we are learning how to pass tests in certain subject areas. We memorise specific information, which entitles us to continue to focus on that subject at a higher level. The ultimate goal is to pass through the final gate to formal qualification.

Let's say you want to be an accountant or an engineer – traditional industrial-era vocations. From grade 9 you will have taken the particular subjects that prepare you for this career. If you don't undertake the prerequisite subjects in your final years in school, you can't study for this career at university. If you don't have the university degree, you won't be considered by potential employers. It's equally frustrating if you become qualified in an area that doesn't turn out to be what you hoped for – just ask any lawyer you know. Most soon learn it's less about using the law to create a more humane society and more about nailing down every six minutes of billable time.

Our subject choices also have the judgemental weight of society behind them. It doesn't take us long to work out where our teachers and colleagues place us in the intellectual hierarchy. The smartest kids with the most potential are those who happen to be good at maths and science, the most valued subjects in a left-brain, logic-driven society. A small step down the hierarchy are respected humanities such as finance, economics and literature, and of course the bottom of the hierarchy is reserved for the artsy types, widely regarded as the flunkies of society, who are lucky if they can eke out any kind of career using their talents. Kids are persuaded, falsely, that most artistic pathways have little economic value and are best left as something we do on the side, in a ‘post-success' environment. Which is ironic given how companies like Apple and Nike have risen above commodity-centric competition on the back of the artistic design of their products. In any case, why should we stop valuing given talents and passions solely on the basis of their limited economic potential? An economic limitation, mind you, that is quickly being reversed.