Children, parents, and teachers alike are increasingly questioning the school system. Ongoing reforms are gradually changing its face, yet often only superficially. The pupils suffer the most. Too much attention is paid to “what?” and too little to “why?”. The lack of meaning compounds their fear of not knowing.
Once, a seventh-grade girl drew two circles on the board during an ethics lesson. She named the smaller one “knowledge” and the larger one “ignorance”. Then she asked me: if, after a year, I have more knowledge and the knowledge circle grows, how will the circle of ignorance change?
Lithuanian folklore has long proclaimed that the deeper into the forest, the more trees there are. Even older is the Socratic wisdom – the more you know, the more you realise you don’t know. In response to the seventh-grader, I emphasised that the circle of ignorance also grows, because every new piece of knowledge opens the door to new questions and unexplored horizons.
Challenge to Knowledge
At this point, the conversation could have ended. Still, the prevailing mindset in today’s schools is different: knowledge must increase and ignorance must decrease. This view arises when the boundaries of knowledge are equated with those of a textbook, test, or exam. Understanding a lesson or solving a task is rewarded, whereas ignorance is punished.
One of the defining traits of modern society is its concern not only with calculable and measurable things or mere survival, but also with meaning. In other words, we care about daily needs and existence. We ask not only “what?”, but also “how?”, “why?”, and “what is it all for?”. When examined from various perspectives, phenomena unfold more broadly than any textbook or test can capture. Interdisciplinary boundaries blur: mathematics merges with languages, economics with philosophy, history with geography. Phenomena are increasingly studied through multidisciplinary lenses, integrating factual knowledge and meaning elements.
Expressions of Fear in School
Let us return to the school setting. It is enough to walk down a school corridor during a break to feel the presence of fear, sometimes hidden, sometimes painfully exposed. Fear of not knowing is voiced through whispers, exclamations, and murmurs: “Who can let me copy the homework?”, “I studied for the test but will get a bad mark”. “Why go to school at all?”. Yes, pupils often fear poor grades, but this fear overshadows the learning goal – to understand.
When speaking with students slumped on the floor outside a classroom, copying history exercises, it becomes clear that their fear of a failing grade is far greater than their concern about failing to grasp the cause-and-effect links between historical events. Most are unconcerned about dishonesty, only about the number “2” appearing in the gradebook if they are caught not doing their homework.
As graduation nears, the domains of fear and meaning become increasingly entangled. The future offers endless possibilities and choices, yet that abundance can be paralysing. Will I be good enough? Will I be able to adapt? Will I be interested in what I choose? Many students grow accustomed to tasks that demand only factual recall, which can be solved, concluded, and forgotten. When the time comes to leave school, many feel their knowledge does not form a coherent whole. That disjointedness is both tiring and troubling, and whether they like it or not, it prompts the question of meaning: what was the point of all this?
It is not very comforting to step beyond school boundaries, because while students may have been taught to think about meaning, it was only sporadically. More often than not, this experience was buried under an avalanche of demands, tests, and a relentless focus on “what?”, leaving no room for “how?”, “why?”, “what for?”, or “who am I, really?”. It quickly becomes evident that what truly mattered was learning to think, make decisions, make mistakes, find motivation to try again, and have the courage to admit not knowing something.
Transformative Shift of Perspective
Let us return to school once more. The national history exam is currently a source of great commotion. The social education block comprises history, economics, geography, and philosophy. In the twelfth grade, students taking an exam in any of these subjects (except economics) will now be required to write an argumentative essay. This is no longer just about facts – it’s about thinking. How do we connect events, incorporate philosophical contexts, reflect on ourselves amidst surrounding events, and link theory to real-life examples?
Now, the fear affects not only pupils but also teachers, many of whom do not feel equipped to teach these skills. Students, too, find this new task unfamiliar. For too long, some taught facts while others tried to memorise them.
The conflict surrounding the argumentative essay symbolically reflects broader changes, not only in education but in society. Some wish to cling to knowledge as a complex set of facts. Others argue that artificial intelligence can already outperform us in fact-retrieval. We should not choose one or the other, but rather focus on human authenticity – thinking, generating ideas, creative solutions, insights about ourselves, others, and the world.
It is vital to ask practical questions, such as how economics teaches us to live in a world of limited resources, and philosophical, psychological, and anthropological questions about the human condition, human action, and the meaning of life. History lessons should dissect facts and ask: What is time? What can we learn from past events? In maths, we should solve equations and explore the nature of numbers and the value of logical reasoning.
If adults care about meaning, we should teach children to care about it, too. Teachers, administrators, and parents should allow themselves – and students – to venture beyond textbooks or the notion that “this is how it’s always been”. They should explore the world with curiosity and joy. After all, the main task of the school is to discover, together with children, that the process of learning is not just tiring but also joyful – a joy that continues beyond lessons, beyond school, and rewards not with grades but with a change in mindset, where fear gives way to courage.
It is not frightening not to know. What is scary is not wanting to learn. Therefore, our focus should not be on fear, but on meaning. If we don’t limit ourselves, the circle of ignorance will always be larger than the circle of knowledge – in first grade, in twelfth grade, and, if we are lucky, even after a hundred years of life.
Written by PhD Sigita Silingaite – expert teacher, Head of Educational Programmes at the Lithuanian Free Market Institute, and Chair of the Lithuanian Ethics Teachers Association.
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