After reading Leo Babauta's post/manifesto on education at Zen Habits today, I realized I'd been internalizing some hot coal feelings about my son's education. And I have a confession: I am sending my son to one of the best public schools in Santa Barbara, and I think it will ruin him. Not only that, I think public education ruins all kids in some way, if not now, someday soon.

Why? I see it in the people I coach. Successful people with Ph.D.s and resumes as long as California. Writers, activists, artists, entrepreneurs. All of them, in some way, have lost a piece of their natural curiosity and wonder. They've made the grade, but distanced themselves from their lifelong desires in exchange. They have lived by the rule of "shoulds."

I meet people here, at this turning point, when the "shoulds" have finally become harpies, and the lack of balance (you were wondering how it connects to balance, right?) has become intolerable.

What I most often hear is, "I want to rekindle who I really am, who I was when I was 10 or 11."

The trajectory is now clear.

My son is 12. He was Waldorf educated until 4th grade. And most of what I've seen in his public education makes no effort to inspire and elicit lifelong learning. It's the exact opposite. Garbage in, garbage out.

I myself was a great student and a curious learner, but I was almost undone by the well-intended, but completely useless way information was stuffed into my head. I got a degree in journalism, stumbled around, found my bearing, and then discovered I really wanted to act. To be in theatre. So I got a BFA in theatre. So now I was an actor and a writer, which meant I was usually unemployed, so I stumbled around, went in and out of corporate marketing and PR jobs and freelance writing gigs, but my heart was in performing (which I still do).

Where all this lands me is that in my experience, standard education does not take into account or develop passion, purpose, or true calling. If you can get a job that fits into a category and a degree, great. But for so many people, their original choices unravel, and their lives fall miserably out of balance because they really never learned how to learn. To be curious. To be flexible. But mostly, they never learned about themselves.

When I began training to become a coach, I realized I'd stumbled (again) upon my missing piece, and it all centered around the age-old practice of inquiry. Open ended questions. Teasing out the juice and passion, uncovering the learning buried deep inside everyone. Treating people as complete and whole, despite the road blocks and the angst. Not so long ago in this world, this kind of purposeful inquiry was our foundation for learning.

Why is this relevant? Because we need relevance for learning to take hold. And we need flexibility. In a world that is changing faster than we are able to learn, standard education is actually in our way. Leo Babauta says it best:

"This is ideal if you’re going to be a corporate employee, and need certain skills in order to work for the corporation — mostly skills of obedience, actually. This isn’t ideal for the workplace of the coming decade, when people are less likely to be employed by a large corporation, and more likely to work for themselves. And have to think for themselves. And figure out, for themselves, what they want to do. And learn new things for themselves, without a teacher."

I don't know how we're going to solve our educational dilemma quite yet. But what I do with my son now is to constantly inquire about the relevance of everything he's learning.

• What's important to you about what you're learning in Social Studies today?
• How can you use what you're learning in your everyday life?
• What are you curious about when you do your homework?
• Where do you need support?

I also tell my son two very important things, almost daily:

1. You don't already have to know this stuff. That's why you're in school.
2. Make mistakes. Lots of them. Get Ds and Fs. It will help you and your teacher know where to look and how to help you. It's just like learning to walk. You wobble, walk, fall down, and do it again better.

We are always learning to walk. And we are always seeking balance. We don't ever get there. But we can do well for ourselves and our children by asking open-ended questions. And if they observe us making passion-fueled career decisions and values-based choices, we have modeled well. The rest is up to them.

Some useful links:

Why the Fuzz in Our Belly Buttons is So Important

Managers who Coach ask Questions that Enlighten

The Juggle Ramps Up Anxiety for Working Mothers

In joy,

Lisa