Tapu Misa: Spartan approach to education will get us nowhere

Two things have been worrying my teenager in the past week. The first is that her mother, in a moment of confectionery confusion, told the world in last week's column that her nickname is marshmallow. In fact, it's Mallowpuff, "because I'm brown on the outside, white on the inside. Not a fluffy, white marshmallow."

And the second is what to do with her life. Or, more precisely, which subjects she should study next year. She is convinced that her entire future rests upon this critical decision.

I've told her these choices matter not a whit at this stage of her life, but as I can't be depended on to tell the difference between a marshmallow and a Mallowpuff, my advice has gone unheeded. So she continues to throw questions at me. Why must she choose only six subjects? Why must she choose between Maori, economics and drama, when she would like to do them all? Why can't she do psychology without having to take two other subjects that she has absolutely no interest in, and why must she miss the Year 10 school camp because it clashes with NCEA exams?

Timetabling, I say pragmatically. Wherever did she get the idea that education was about learning the things that excited and interested her?

It was just as well that I took time out to have a conversation with some people from Secondary Futures, a small group charged with the task of charting a course for the future of secondary education in this country.

So far they're all about having conversations with a wide range of people - including students, educators and employers - about what our education system should be like 20 years from now, and beyond.

Surprisingly, the conversation hasn't much focused on the things that seem to dominate the national debate - not the niggles of NCEA, vouchers, or the so-called declining standards of education, but on the bigger picture.

What exactly is it that we expect our schools to teach our children and how can they be equipped to do it better? Do we really want our schools to concentrate solely on preparing our children for the workplace, or are we after something more?

Some of the answers might surprise those who think, for example, that employers want a return to a system that values exam results above all else. The answers confirmed what Victoria University researchers found when they asked employers to rank the most sought-after skills of graduates. First came strong verbal and inter-personal communication skills. Problem-solving skills came second.

Many seemed at one with the idea that education is about producing well-rounded, thinking individuals capable of lifelong learning, rather than rote learners with A-pluses.

They'd probably agree with American education consultant and former history teacher Brian Crouch, who uses the ancient Greek example of Sparta and Athens to argue against an education system that reduces learning to what is useful for employment, rather than a means of teaching critical thinking, transmitting culture and being a foundation for democracy.

Sparta focused on military training at the expense of other kinds of learning and produced no great and enduring literature or art, whereas the Athenians aimed to produce a well-rounded citizen who could fight but was equally educated in the arts.

It is not a coincidence that most of the great art, literature and science of ancient Greece was produced in Athens, where great thinkers, poets, artists and leaders thrived. Yet Athens was still able to maintain a powerful army.

So do we want an Athenian approach to create a thinking citizen who can make good decisions when faced with the complexities of a democracy and the challenges of the 21st century, or do we want to return to an education system designed for the 19th century, when society deemed it acceptable to prepare the children of the ruling classes for the higher echelons, while most children could safely be consigned to lower-paid futures?

No one engaged in the conversation with Secondary Futures favours the latter.

Everyone says they want both world-beaters in the knowledge economy, and good citizens.

They want an education system which is a fountain rather than a sieve, as one Wellingtonian puts it.

Its how we get there that is the problem. Much of the world looks to Finland, which transformed itself from a poor and agrarian nation half a century ago to one of the world's most prosperous.

Finland's schools are widely regarded as the best in the world. It finishes first in the Programme for International Student Assessment exams that test 15-year-olds in the world's industrial democracies.

Yet, as recently as the 1970s, Finland required that children attend school for only 6 years. Today in Finland, nearly every young person graduates from vocational or high school, and almost half go on to higher education.

School is free at all levels and even kindergarten teachers have a degree.

Finnish schools have a stream of overseas visitors wanting to know what their secret is - but then, so do New Zealand schools.

Much though we like to bemoan the state of our own education system, New Zealanders also have a reputation for being innovative trailblazers in education.

But that hasn't figured much in the education debates. For example, Tahatai Coast Primary School in Papamoa, Bay of Plenty, a decile 3 school with a 30 per cent Maori roll, has hosted thousands of international educators keen to find out why the school is a world leader in interactive education. At Tahatai Coast Primary, all the 5-year-olds can do computer animation and all the 6-year-olds have their own web pages.

The possibilities, opened up by Tomorrow's Schools, are endless. If only we could move the conversation along.