I Can Find My Way, I Know My Left From Right
What is school for?
I’ve been ruminating over a question I encountered at a gathering of education change leaders convened by the Middle States Association last week.1 The question: “What question has no right to go away?” The gathering, called “The Journey,” was an outstanding foray into change leadership strategies in schools, and it’s been living rent free in my head for the last few days. Interestingly, I’ve found myself less preoccupied with their question and more drawn to one that surfaced for me almost immediately: “What is school for?”
It’s a deceptively simple question, but one that invites profound reflection. I’m fortunate to be in a professional role that not only allows but encourages me to grapple with these kinds of big-picture ideas. While the demands of day-to-day responsibilities are always present, I’m privileged to have space to think deeply about the larger purpose of education and how schools can truly serve their communities. Much of my question is likely informed by the current freakout over AI in schools. While I believe strongly that those AI-induced pressures will only increase in the coming years, I’m also a bit tired of grappling with them because of the inherent uncertainty given the pace of change. So my question is certainly an AI-adjacent one, but it’s not the main driver. Instead, it’s most informed by my work in the classroom in a new (for me) community, as well as watching my own children (three boys—9, 7, and 4) navigate their early school years in our strong public school system. Of course I want them to learn to read and write, to become competent at all kinds of math, to learn about history, to learn to work with others, etc., etc.2
But I also want more for them. I want them to be curious, resilient, and capable of navigating the complexities of a rapidly changing world. Watching them, and reflecting on my own classroom experiences, I’ve come to realize that the traditional markers of academic success are just the beginning. Schools must equip students not only with foundational skills but also with the ability to think critically, adapt to new challenges, and chart their own paths in an unpredictable future. I’m an unabashed fan of Robin Hogarth’s work on “Kind” versus “Wicked” worlds, so this undeniably shapes my thinking. Schools frequently exist as a type of “Kind” environment as described by Hogarth. In reality, my kids (and students everywhere) will enter something much more akin to a “Wicked” world. In my past role it was clear to me that parents frequently wanted a blueprint for their children’s success. Blueprints exist to be sure, but it feels like, increasingly, that they are written in disappearing ink. They are “Kind” solutions for what is increasingly a “Wicked” challenge. Not just one that means getting into the most selective college, but more importantly, one that allows them to function as competent, empathetic, motivated young adults in an increasingly “Wicked” world.3
And then the universe dropped some more information into my lap a few days ago that further pushed my thinking. Daniel Schwartz’s recent paper “Achieving an Adaptive Learner” argues that modern education must go beyond teaching efficiency to foster adaptability.4 Schwartz critiques traditional instruction for its focus on routine expertise—proficiency in stable and predictable tasks—while neglecting the skills needed to adapt to novel situations. Drawing from multiple studies, he proposes a framework to develop adaptive learners by balancing efficiency with innovation. Key instructional principles include engaging students in innovation tasks early, encouraging exploration of new information, and designing learning experiences that build both foundational knowledge and the ability to apply it flexibly in changing contexts. Schwartz’s paper explores nearly all educational contexts from K-16 settings, suggesting the need to deploy more pedagogies focused on adaptability over efficiency. It’s a paper that further pushes us to consider the question, “What is school for?” While I like it for the larger questions it raises, I also like it because it pushes on an ongoing tension between constructivist vs. non-constructivist pedagogies. He writes:
As a coarse parsing, it seems that the family of non-constructivist teaching approaches might include explicit instruction that tells or shows students what to do and think. Whereas constructivist instruction might include activities through which students generate new-tothem knowledge. As parodies, one might imagine a dark auditorium of college students memorizing a 50-minute physics lecture versus undergraduates sent to a lab to work in groups to rediscover theories of physics that took centuries to work out. Neither extreme seems ideal.
Neither extreme seems ideal, indeed. But that’s where it feels like many of us are, currently. Schwartz’s work underscores a critical point: if we want schools to prepare students for the complexities of life, we cannot settle for either extreme—rote efficiency or unbounded exploration. Instead, we must strike a balance that equips students with foundational knowledge while also fostering the adaptability and critical thinking needed to thrive in a "Wicked" world.
So, what is school for? It’s for more than teaching to the test, preparing for college, or checking off academic milestones. It’s for preparing students to meet uncertainty with curiosity, resilience, and confidence. It’s for equipping them to navigate a world where blueprints are written in disappearing ink and the challenges they face will demand innovative, empathetic, and flexible solutions. Schools must be places where students learn how to learn—where they develop not just the skills to succeed today, but the mindset to adapt and thrive tomorrow.
Schwartz’s vision of achieving an adaptive learner pushes us closer to answering this enduring question. School, at its best, is about creating environments where students can develop into capable, adaptable individuals who are prepared not just to exploit what they already know but to explore, innovate, and grow in the face of the unknown. It’s a mission that feels more urgent—and more essential—than ever.5
Note: I always pull blog titles from song titles or lyrics. It’s a thing. It’s fine. Just go with it. I named the blog ‘The Academic DJ’ after all. Today’s title comes from Beck and Paul McCartney’s Find My Way. I like it because it’s funky. I like it because who would have imagined Beck and Paul McCartney joining forces to make a song like this? I also like it because it begs the question, can students find their way? Are we preparing them to do so?
Ruminate is a good word. I think about that word often too. I also ruminate often. So that made me come back to this space to write out my ruminations.
This is a separate point, but I think we ask far too much from schools these days. Of course learning doesn’t only happen in school. We certainly cultivate a rich set of learning opportunities for our own kids outside of the classroom, ranging from academic experiences, to artistic ones, to social-emotional ones. But the point stands that society probably asks schools to do too much in modern society, including off-loading lots of parenting. Especially in my context of independent schools and doubly so in boarding schools for 18 of 20 years.
This is not a plug for the release of the new Wicked movie. 🧙♀️
If you’re in schools, interested in pedagogy, or just curious about the question “What is school for?” the entire paper is well worth your time.
I almost didn’t make this a footnote, but sometimes my best thinking and writing appears in the footnotes, so here we are. I am not pointing a finger at teachers here, whose responsibilities have only grown in the last two decades. I am teaching again this year after a year out of the classroom. It’s still not easy! I am, perhaps, pointing a finger at the systems and institutions that teachers are tasked with navigating. They are “wicked” ones, no doubt. So too am I a pointing a finger at families who place too much pressure on schools and on their own learners. I even wonder if most schools could answer the question, “What is YOUR school for?”
Always read the footnotes, folks.