Plato, the wise old Greek, had a knack for diagnosing human folly.
Over 2,400 years ago, he noted that people often hurry through childhood, only to spend adulthood pining for it. They trade health for wealth and then spend their wealth trying to claw back their health. They worry about the future so much that they forget to live in the present. In the end, they live as if they will never die, only to die as if they have never lived.
If ever there were a description of the British education system, this might be it.
As we stand on the cusp of exam season, it’s ever more apparent that from the moment British children step into a classroom, they are placed on a treadmill of expectation. SATs, GCSEs, A-levels, university admissions – each stage more stressful than the last. By the time they graduate, many students feel exhausted rather than enlightened, more relieved than inspired. The irony? The very system designed to prepare them for life, ends up draining the joy from it.
It doesn’t need to be this way.
Over Easter, I spent three days in the company of LWC’s golfers on their tour of Norfolk’s finest links courses. As I watched them perfect their swing, against the glistening backdrop of the North Sea, it occurred to me that Plato’s vision for education (balanced and thoughtful) was spot-on. Contrary to the Ionian approach (favouring broad intellectual enquiry) or the Spartan model (advocating discipline and obedience), Plato was keen to cultivate wisdom and character; he believed that education should shape the soul, not just fill the mind with facts. Were he alive today, I suspect he would value the time spent outside of the classroom, as much as that spent within it.
The British education system is rigid, high-pressure and focused on producing workers who can ‘compete in the global economy.’ Exams are treated as the ultimate test of endurance, teachers as drill sergeants and students as young recruits who must toughen up to succeed. The problem? Not all children thrive under this relentless, one-size-fits-all approach. Many buckle under the weight of expectation, their natural curiosity stamped out by a system that values results over real learning.
Yet, lurking within the British system is also an Ionian spark – the potential for creativity, intellectual exploration, and genuine scholarship. Within the best classrooms (and outside of them), teachers inspire students to think deeply, challenge ideas and develop a lifelong love of learning.
What if, like Plato, instead of focusing on test scores, the British education system prioritised critical thinking, creativity and personal growth? What if we taught students to appreciate the present rather than fear the future? Finland has already embraced this philosophy; less homework, fewer exams, more emphasis on independent thought. Their students consistently outperform their overworked British counterparts with hygge in their back pocket too.
Plato warned against the trap of always wanting more instead of needing less. He might not have had to deal with OFSTED, ISI inspections or underfunded schools, but his advice remains painfully relevant. Maybe the way forward isn’t in pushing for more, but in learning to need less. Less stress, less pressure, fewer meaningless tests and maybe, just maybe, an education system where kids can actually enjoy being kids.
As Plato might say if he were marking the UK’s education policy: ‘Must try harder.’
Yours,
Adam
