My Take on The Current Education System

As a student of the modern education system, I’ve often felt trapped. I can’t shake the feeling that this education machine produces many graduates but very few thinkers, creators, and change-makers. My experience is one of frustration, shared by countless other students and even teachers bound by this outdated framework. This isn’t just a complaint; it’s a cry for change rooted in conversations with educators, administrators, students, and, of course, my own reflections on what education truly means.

The first thing that strikes me about our current education system is its lack of a clear and inspiring goal. If you ask the average student why they’re spending hours to study a certain topic, they’ll most likely say, “to get an A” or “to get a job.” Education feels like a transaction, where we’re constantly trading our effort for grades that might get us a paycheck someday. Even teachers are affected by this mindset, sometimes skipping lessons because “it’s not coming in the exam.” But is that really what learning is meant to be about? To pass an exam?

Education shouldn’t just be about earning grades or certificates for jobs. New York University Mathematics Professor Mariya Felkistova once taught me that “education should teach you that you’re not alone in the world,” meaning that students should view their educational journey as a way to understand the world and contribute meaningfully to society. Scholars like Al-Khwarizmi, the father of algebra, pursued knowledge with a purpose far greater than personal gain. In the introduction to his book al-Jabr (Algebra), he dedicated his work “for the good of humanity” or as he wrote:

"ألفت من كتاب الجبر والمقابلة كتابا مختصرا حاصرا للطيف لحساب وجليله لما يلزم الناس من الحاجة إليه في مواريثهم ووصاياهم وفي مقاسمتهم وأحكامهم وتجاراتهم وفي جميع ما يتعاملون ببينهم من مساحة الأرضين وكرى الأنهار والهندسة وغير ذلك من وجوهه وفنونه"

Al-Khwarizmi’s work laid the foundation for mathematics as we know it, impacting fields like engineering and astronomy. His purpose was to advance human understanding, not just to pass exams or secure a job. We need to reclaim this sense of purpose if we want education to be meaningful.

Another flaw I’ve noticed in this system is how a student’s worth is measured through GPAs and credit hours. These numbers are seen as metrics of intelligence, with high scores supposedly translating to “success.” Personally, I believe the best measure of success is dedication. Although it can be difficult to quantify, dedication can be assessed by looking at the tangible impact a student creates or by observing their work ethic. For example, during a lecture by Imam Malik on the Hadiths of the Prophet (peace be upon him), he was interrupted by someone shouting, “An enormous elephant has arrived in Medina!” All the students, who had never seen an elephant before, rushed out to see it—except for one, Yahya ibn Yahya al-Laythi, who had traveled all the way from Andalusia. When Imam Malik asked him, “Why don’t you go see the elephant?” Yahya replied, “I traveled to see Malik, not to see the elephant.” This dedication impressed Imam Malik, who began treating Yahya with special regard. Yahya’s focus and commitment to learning eventually made him a leading narrator of the Muwatta of Imam Malik, spreading its teachings far and wide. In this story, we see that true success is not measured through a test score, but through clear dedication that leaves real impact.

But it’s not just students who are constrained by this system; teachers are stifled too. Many of the educators I’ve spoken to are frustrated by the bureaucracy that dictates what and how they must teach. They want to inspire, to bring new ideas to the classroom, to challenge us—but their hands are tied. Instead of being facilitators of critical thought, they’re often forced to stick to a rigid syllabus, leaving little room for creativity.

As the educational system grows more bureaucratic, I’ve noticed a strange imbalance: there seem to be more administrators than teachers. These layers of bureaucracy add hurdles and red tape, making it harder for real education to take place. Instead of investing in the people who directly interact with students, schools prioritize administrative roles that often feel disconnected from the true purpose of education.

I believe that the root of this bureaucracy lies in the commercialization of education. Students are treated as customers, filtered and categorized by GPAs, while teachers are bound to rigid curricula they must follow with little room for flexibility or creativity. Education has been reframed as a branded commodity, where the prestige of attending certain institutions often overshadows the true purpose of learning. Education should be a noble endeavor, not a business enterprise. The scholars of the past—whether Al-Khwarizmi in mathematics or Ibn Malik in Islam—pursued knowledge for its own sake and for the benefit of others. They weren’t constrained by financial goals or corporate interests. When education becomes a business, it loses its soul, becoming a transaction rather than a transformative journey.

I write this not just as a student but as someone who dreams of a better educational system—one that values a strong sense of purpose over personal profit. We need an education that helps us solve real-world problems and reminds us that we’re living within a community, as it did for the scholars who came before us. We need a system that truly educates, not just one that gives out certificates. It’s time for a change.