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MY younger child is always in the mood to question, especially when his future is being discussed. For example, why does he need to learn algebra when it will not matter later in life? I believe most responses to such queries are defensive reactions to authority figures. ‘Just learn it because it is in the syllabus’ is a common reply. Innocent curiosity about their subjects — innate demands for meaning — indicates that the system is foggy; it curtails both interest and the joy of learning. Educational institutions have prioritised concealment over connection, information and insight.

Such curiosity, more than anything else, reflects how incompatible the education system is with learners’ minds, interests, cognitive potential and practical experiences. Children do not look at an algebraic equation as a figurative canvas, at history as a timeline of historical events, or at a diagram as a colourful object.

The way to resolve this is by making them understand the contributions of scholars, and the significance of various subjects, with explanations that match their context and life. They question their learning at school not because they are lazy or uninterested but because they feel that what they are taught and what they live through are deeply disconnected.

A teacher at a parent-teacher meeting had criticised my child because of the unconventional questions he asked. He, along with some of the other children, sounds different in the midst of those who align their learning with memory-based information and education. We must accept that having more knowledge and sources of information is not a tragedy.

We must not turn away from our children’s questions.

We are now surrounded by schools and colleges, and the latest technologies, including AI. Yet we still teach subjects in silos — languages in one period, history in the next, chemistry in the third, and then wonder why students cannot see the connection that photosynthesis has with climate policy.

We present knowledge as a series of finished products to be catalogued in memory, rather than as a living process of inquiry. This distances learning from life.

It also turns learning into a series of hoops to jump through for grades and degrees, and to make parents happy. The joy of discovering new perspectives, ideas and understanding is stifled by the pressure to memorise and perform well in assessments.

Students learn how to ‘play the game of school’ whereby they learn how to give the teachers what they want by suppressing their real curiosity to fit the demands of the syllabus. As educator William Deresiewicz put it, they become “excellent sheep” — high-achieving, obedient, and completely disconnected from a sense of purpose.

The future direction should be reconciliation that gives education a new meaning and purpose. Instead of asking what we need to cover, we must learn to ask what our students need to build, solve and understand.

This is the true definition of shifting from an education of possession to an education of practice. Practice means that history is not just learned; it is also used to deliberate over the current policy with a complete understanding about what has and has not worked in the past.

Math is not just about doing calculations, it is also about using numbers to figure out how to budget for a small business, plan the next step in a community project, or understand why an algorithm is biased. Practice means not only parsing language but also using it to write a story that moves, build an argument that convinces, and ask a question that provides clarity.

We must respond to our children’s questions, not turn away from them. If we are at a loss for answers, it is easier and friendlier to encourage collective discovery. Let’s put this idea into action in the real

world, and have the patience to see where it takes us in the world of learning. In doing so, we do more than just salvage a lesson.

We model intellectual humility. We validate the search for meaning as the very heart of all educational endeavours. We demonstrate that knowledge is not a fortress to be defended, but a bridge to be crossed; a bridge that leads from the isolation of the classroom to the interconnected, messy and vibrant reality of human experiences.

Ultimately, the goal of education lies beyond producing mobile databases. It must cultivate ‘meaning-makers’. These are individuals who not only acquire information, but also weave it into understanding and practical life.

They not only solve problems but identify the ones that are worth solving. They can see the many threads that connect the past to the present, the self to society and an idea to action.

The writer is an educationist.

Published in Dawn, February 17th, 2026