Social media has been highlighting ‘quiet quitting’, a push back against the ‘hustle culture’ of high productivity and long hours. While it’s about workers, pupils are doing it too. For both workers and pupils, this isn’t an individual problem, it’s systemic.
Why are people ‘quiet quitting’?
People who can’t leave their jobs and who haven’t been able to come together to demand changes, are ‘quiet quitting’. Workers are questioning the fairness of a capitalist system, where working harder doesn’t necessarily lead to promotions or higher salaries. They’re finding that where once they volunteered to do more, that extra work is becoming an expected part of their jobs. They’re deciding that their worth won’t be defined by their jobs, and that success doesn’t have to mean climbing the career ladder. They’re refusing to be mentally and emotionally invested in their jobs. And so they’re doing the bare minimum.
What about pupils?
Pupils (mostly) can’t leave. And schools aren’t usually places where pupils can come together to demand changes. But cancelled exams and pandemic algorithms means many are questioning the fairness of a system where working harder doesn’t necessarily translate into better career outcomes. Where once pupils might have relished the opportunity to take on some interesting projects, to research an issue in depth, there’s a huge focus on ‘catching up’ and pressure to get to the level you ‘should’ be at. They’re wondering why their worth is defined by their academic success, and deciding that success doesn’t have to mean the highest exam grades, the most prestigious university, or even going to university at all. They’re refusing to be mentally and emotionally invested in school learning, they’re asking whether ‘this’ will be on the exam and if not, they’re turning their backs.
What’s new?
A lot of this isn’t new. But the pandemic has exacerbated it. The pressure to catch up and close gaps, to bring test and exam results swiftly towards pre-pandemic levels, doesn’t leave much space for pupils who are grieving or caring for family members, or living in poverty. It doesn’t leave much time for playing, hanging out with friends, rebuilding relationships. The packed curriculum doesn’t give schools time to build on the lockdown experiences of those pupils who found meaning in new ways of learning, the opportunities to help others, and the challenge from movements for racial justice, women’s safety, and climate change. These are the pupils who are ‘quiet quitting’.
How can we build learning no-one wants to quit?
What if we stopped defining success as exam grades or ‘expected’ levels? What if we allowed pupils to choose some aspects of their subjects to learn in depth, and took the pressure off other parts? What if we stopped defining pupils by what they can’t do, by how far away they are from some artificial standard?
For those things to happen, we’d need some pretty radical policy shifts. We’d have to stop ranking schools by their grades, and think more carefully about what we want our school leavers to be and to do. We’d need more conversations about what learning is essential and what we could drop to give more space for the serendipitous and the self-directed. We’d need policy-makers who realise that teaching is about building relationships not delivering a prepackaged curriculum. And for all this, we’d need to move away from the politically driven policy cycle, to build a long term plan for education that doesn’t change with every new education secretary, leadership election or party manifesto.
With all the challenges we face, economically, environmentally, socially, we all need to keep learning. We can’t afford education that pupils want to quit.