If school weren’t compulsory, would your child still go?
By: Chaya Liberow
The year is 1998. With my bag on my back and hair neatly pulled back, I trot into school. The teacher calls out, “What’s 3×9?” I quickly count my fingers… 27! My hand shoots up. “Chani?” the teacher calls on my classmate. “27!” I lower my hand. “What’s 4×9?” My fingers come out again. This time, I hope to be chosen.
The bell rings. As fast as my little feet can run, I escape the classroom. I idle up to join my classmates in conversation. Sara whispers about the stain on Shaina’s shirt. She glares at Shaina with disgust. Forlorn, Shaina turns away, a tear in the corner of her eye.
The next day, my mother and Shaina’s mother are met with downcast faces. Each in our own homes, we express our reluctance to return to school. Our mothers cajole us and despite our reluctance, lovingly send us off.
By South African law, children must attend school until the age of 15 or Grade 9. My question is: if school attendance wasn’t compulsory, would we still send our children?
Education has been sold as a journey to prepare children for adulthood. Educating for the future has sustained us for generations. However, with cellphones, AI, and the internet, we need to ask ourselves, what are we preparing our children for? With the future so unknown, what is the reason we are carpooling our children to school each day? Is it simply to comply with our legal responsibility?
“Education is not a preparation for life; education is life itself.”
John Dewey, a respected educational theorist, stated, “Education is not a preparation for life; education is life itself.” Perhaps it is time we stop viewing schools as a means to an end and instead recognise it as a journey in and of itself. Perhaps we should be asking; “What can we, parents and educators, do now to make school a place that students advocate for and beg to go to? If school ceased tomorrow, would our children breathe a sigh of relief, or be devastated? In my opinion, the future of our school system depends on our efforts to nurture its existence today. Without a critical change of focus, without classrooms that spark joy, wonder, and inquiry, without safe spaces for the real, present-tense lives of our children, we risk students losing interest in the future. The future of schooling depends not on the legal system, nor on the need for a future, but on our children’s love of the classroom today.
Traditional schooling as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary is: “A process of teaching, training, and learning, especially in schools or colleges, to improve knowledge and develop skills.” Embodying the teacher as the “Sage on the Stage”, where imparting skills and knowledge is the primary goal. Alternative schooling approaches like Montessori and ‘free schools’ value hands-on experiences, self-initiated within a well-prepared environment and democratic, student-centred learning that emphasises individual choice and self-direction. The difference is striking; traditional education emphasises the educator; alternative approaches emphasise the student. The South African educational system is currently prescriptive, it mirrors the Oxford definition.
At present, passing matric is seen as a gateway to higher education and employment. However, leading experts, from medical professionals to veteran educators, are sounding the alarm: the emotional toll is too high. Today’s students are buckling under the pressure to succeed tomorrow. Anxiety levels are soaring, and the joy of learning is slipping through our fingers. Theorists caution against a complete overhaul of traditional education, and many resist a full shift to alternative schooling. There are limitations to these methods as well. Therefore, I propose rather to ask: How do we make today’s classrooms matter? For me, the answer lies in making the people and the moments matter.
“The indicator of a good education is that the flame kindled by an educator is able to thrive on its own.”
Ancestrally, educating the next generation has been part of our DNA. Abraham built a tent open on all four sides to welcome and teach any passerby. He would bring people under his miraculous tree, if they were righteous, it’s leaves would provide shade; if not, the sun would shine down. Abraham didn’t reject those who weren’t righteous, he simply taught them differently. As it says in Mishlei, “Educate a child according to his way so that when he is old, he will not depart from it.” The Lubavitcher Rebbe said, “The indicator of a good education is that the flame kindled by an educator is able to thrive on its own.” Matric results may test memory, but they do not build a love of lifelong learning. Standards and curricula test content delivery and skill acquisition. But they do not ensure the love that will encourage the continuity of our schooling system? Let us look at the Pesach Seder, where the goal is the curiosity and engagement of the children. The Torah values inquiry, and so should our classrooms. We can have standards, curricula, and even matric exams, but are we filling today’s classrooms with wonder?
A fellow doctoral student once described himself as a teacher and a magician. He enters his classroom daily with the goal of allowing his students to feel the joy of wonder. Joy in education is often mistaken for frivolity. But it is joy, curiosity, and hands-on experiences that make the people and moments matter. Dr Judy Willis, a neurologist turned educator, describes how the brain fires the same neurons during a fight-or-flight mode as when triggered by boredom. In other words, if a student feels unsafe or bored, learning simply cannot occur. This is why teachers today must be magicians, engaging students with wonder. I recently asked a group of students what they would do if school weren’t compulsory. One said she’d still come, she loved her social life and had amazing teachers. But another disagreed: “I wouldn’t come.” For her, the social scene was harsh and the teachers boring and distant. These responses are a wake-up call. School must be a place where every lesson is enjoyable, engaging, and meaningful to every child. Schools must become gardens where curiosity grows, confidence is cultivated, and every student feels that they matter.
There are many strategies teachers can use to engage students. But at its core, I think it’s simpler than that. Ask yourself: Are you, the teacher, having fun teaching? And how can you help each student love learning too? Whether it’s props, experiments, anecdotes, the Socratic method, or a simple thumbs-up/thumbs-down activity, when I am excited to teach, despite the curriculum, I’m engaged, I’m joyful, I’m experiencing the learning and my classroom matters, because it’s real, relevant, and responsive. At Harvard Graduate School of Education they propose that inquiry-based methods improve critical thinking, problem-solving, motivation, and engagement. Because when students are engaged, hands busy, hearts happy, and whole selves present, that energy is contagious. It inspires lifelong learning.
But making the classroom matter isn’t just on the teacher. Schools must create joyful experiences for teachers too, not just endless Professional Developments, but differentiated, meaningful, and practical sessions. They need time, respect, and emotional support. They’re not just content deliverers, they’re magicians, managers, and relationship builders. Schools must recognise their efforts and celebrate their impact. While our classrooms are currently compulsory for children, being a teacher is not compulsory for adults, and many skilled professionals are leaving in droves. Teachers leave because they’re unhappy. Teaching is a calling. Many teachers arrive each day with a vision to create curious, magical spaces for students. When burnout strikes, it’s time for schools to reflect. Teachers who feel valued create classrooms where students feel valued.
School needs to be a haven of whole child joy and safety for students to thrive. This does not only depend on the teachers and the schools, but on parents as well. Children are emotionally intelligent. Even the youngest can sense doubt or joy by the expression on a parent’s face. Children know when their parents believe in their school. If they sense scepticism or frustration, they carry that with them, expressing it through misbehaviour or disengagement. When they feel belief and engagement, they too become advocates for their schools, thereby increasing their student agency and lifelong learning. “When families and schools build partnerships that support learning, students develop the motivation and skills to become lifelong learners.” (Epstein, 2001.) When parents speak positively about their children’s schools and support the educators in their lives, children feel safe and are available to learn. Part of today’s student anxiety stems from this disconnect. When parents criticise the schools they send their children to, children internalise the confusion. They don’t know who to trust and that uncertainty erodes their sense of belonging.
A favourite quote of mine of the Lubavitcher Rebbe is, “The first time we take a child to school, we do so happily. In fact, this is the way it should be done daily.” To continue the viability of our schools, we must make our classrooms matter today. This requires a partnership where joy is the ultimate goal of meaningful education. Where relationships between all stakeholders are nourished, respected and enriched.
This article doesn’t claim to have answers. Rather it questions:
How do we, as teachers, engage students meaningfully?
How do schools support teachers joyfully?
How do parents support the future of our schools?
If school disappeared tomorrow, would your child cry with joy or sorrow? Let’s ensure the answer is sorrow, not from fear of the future, but because we’ve built something beautiful to lose. A place where joy and learning go hand in hand. A place where every child feels seen, every teacher feels valued, and every parent feels proud.
