Our American system of compulsory schooling was created about 150 years ago. “Schools were established when kids were experience-rich and information poor. The world has changed; schools haven’t.” (James Coleman) Our accepted educational system generally asks young people to sit in age-segregated rectangular classrooms under fluorescent lights and absorb and regurgitate information for 12 years in a row. When the bell rings, they move to the next room, whether engaged in the subject matter or not. They learn about ‘what is important and real” second-hand through the process of having someone talk at them. And all of this happens during the most physically active and inquisitive years of their life.
As a result, they learn that education is something that someone else does TO them, and that others know more about than they do. To do school successfully they learn to stifle their organic physical vitality and much of their curiosity. They become distant from their own authentic voices, and their hearts. Rather than pursuing learning for its value to them, they learn to focus on how to jump through hoops for outer authorities.
From the full spectrum of human possibility and capability, schools select a limited band and focuses our attention there – compromising our wholeness throughout 12 foundational years of our development.

The focus of the curriculum is on the head, and particularly the left hemisphere. The rest of the body is asked to sit still for much of the day.
The arts, creativity and physical education are marginalized, and are the first things to go if there are budget cuts. They are systematically separated from traditional sources of wisdom – elders, religion, spirituality, time alone and in nature.
Academic subject matter is generally taught out of context – students can rarely tell you what the relevance of the subject matter is to their current life or their future. Time doing something real is limited. Students are generally limited to work in schools – thus not building their understanding of what adults do. They rarely get to see the beginning, middle and end of a process.
The environment is contrived – students spend the majority of their time in environments that don’t bear a resemblance to the real world – age segregation is a good example.
Students aren’t trusted – time alone is monitored and limited. Students rarely get to choose what they can study. Because the student isn’t trusted, they learn to mistrust themselves. Time outdoors in the natural world is limited. Physical activity is constrained and controlled. They learn implicitly that they aren’t important or to be taken seriously until they graduate from a college.
We don’t tell them specifically what it means to be an adult and how to get there. We don’t tell them when adulthood begins – because we aren’t clear ourselves. We give adolescents permission to drive between 16 and 18, we allow them to die for their country at 18, but we don’t trust them to drink until 21 – clearly a confused message about adulthood and responsibility.
They aren’t taught what integrity is and how to maintain it. They don’t learn to feel their feelings – what to do with sadness, anger or fear – which is of vital importance for successfully navigating the challenges of life. Many haven’t learned what to do about procrastination.
A majority of the college age students we come in contact with go into a trance as soon as an adult starts talking to them in any formal way. They have learned to dial down their aliveness and natural reactions until they can get out of the classroom – when they can start living again. Most are comfortable leading such split lives.
Then, we’re supposed to invest $60,000 to $250,000 in their “higher education.” Does it make sense to ask someone who hasn’t done anything real in the world to choose a major? On what basis can they make an informed choice?
Does it truly make sense to send someone off to college before they have developed a sense of themselves – before they have sampled the world of work – before they have taken time to live in the question of “who am I, really?”
We have accepted a situation in which college means muddling around for a year or two – but can we afford this? Is this the best way to go?
In the light of the limited focus that is built into our educational system by design, consciously chosen and planned time outside of the classroom becomes an imperative.
Currently only 57% of first-time college students have graduated after 6 years. (U.S. Dept. of Education). This means that most students are taking a de facto gap year.
Before going on to enroll in college or choose a major, it just makes sense to do something for a year or two to help you restore your wholeness, and help you connect with your unique life purpose.