Chapter 1: The Compulsory Nature of School

The concept of school often presents itself as a trade-off: we are promised approval in exchange for our happiness.

Life unfolds in the present moment, and every activity my daughter engages in is incredibly significant to her. When she creates art, she’s not merely preparing for a future as an artist; she is expressing herself as an artist right now.

This journey begins at the tender age of five and stretches to 18, often enforced as a compulsory experience.

Compulsory education means that attendance is not optional; it doesn’t matter whether a child is terrified, clinging to their home as the school day approaches, or even struggling through personal crises that make the experience unbearable.

Compulsory implies a lack of choice, requiring kids to attend school five days a week for six or seven hours daily across 13 years.

It instills a harsh reality where children learn to fend for themselves. Compulsory education also subjects students to the unpredictability of teachers and classmates, whose varied backgrounds and adaptations shape the learning environment.

We are conditioned to believe that not attending school is abnormal and that those who do not participate are somehow missing out on crucial socialization.

In this system, students are forced to remain in classrooms regardless of their engagement or understanding, following the pace set by their teachers or peers. Disruptions from others often impede individual learning, and opportunities for exploration are limited.

Compulsory schooling prevents any reflection on who truly benefits from this structure or what alternatives might exist.

Despite the fact that I experienced moments of genuine learning and had some exceptional teachers who broadened my horizons, most of my school years were characterized by a struggle against boredom, chaos, and bullying. My academic performance often met or exceeded expectations on paper, yet the true essence of my achievement felt shallow compared to the holistic view of success I hold today.

Although I seemed to be excelling, it was more of a relief to my teachers than an indication of true engagement. The lower standards at the schools I attended allowed me to escape notice, giving me the freedom to read books covertly while chaos unfolded around me. This ability to navigate the system quietly helped me maintain some sense of autonomy.

In sharing my experiences, I do not intend to undermine the dedication of teachers or disregard the benefits that schools can provide—such as being a safe space for those from challenging home environments. Instead, I aim to highlight how the school system can shape our lives if we do not actively deprogram ourselves and to suggest methods of healing that allow us to redefine success away from grades and external validation.

I have begun this deprogramming journey, albeit slowly, and I now find joy in having left the school system behind for good.

At 38, I recently withdrew from a Creative Writing Masters program, marking the end of my attempts at postgraduate study.

This decision was not easy, as it came with a sense of loss. I had a supportive supervisor, great classmates, and a nurturing environment. Yet, I realized my motivations were misguided. I sought a certificate as a validation of my worth, desiring high grades and recognition to prove my potential and status as a top student.

I once again surrendered my agency to the school system, clinging to the notion that I needed external guidance to discover who I was meant to be.

Now, as a parent, I recognize how absurd this idea is. My six-year-old daughter is not being prepared for something in the future; she is fully engaged in her life right now. She is not learning to be an artist one day; she is creating art in the moment, free from self-doubt and comparisons. Her enthusiastic participation in her activities fosters her growth.

Observing her, it is clear that the desire to learn is inherent in humans, manifesting in unique ways. It’s hard to envision how schools can meet the diverse learning needs of many students simultaneously. My daughter learns what she feels compelled to know at that very moment, with questions arising organically from her experiences.

To impose a rigid curriculum on her inquiries feels counterproductive and stifling. Left to her own devices, she follows her instincts, and it is this sense of necessity that propels her learning forward. Disrupting her flow to insert predefined requirements seems not only unnecessary but potentially damaging.

As children, we learn to navigate our needs, often seeking approval through academic achievements. I found myself sacrificing my joy in the learning process, trading it for external validation, a pattern that persisted into adulthood.

At 38, I have finally dismantled the mental barriers that school imposed on me and embraced the freedom to explore life on my terms—parenting, writing, loving, and learning from my experiences without fear of judgment or grades.

For those contemplating a departure from traditional schooling—whether for yourself or your children—explore the resources available to support this journey.

The first video titled "Why I Quit Teaching After 8 Years" discusses the challenges faced by educators and the reasons behind leaving the profession.

The second video, "You Should Finally Leave School," encourages viewers to consider alternative education paths and the benefits of stepping away from traditional schooling.