The Lost Boys

Education's Greatest Challenge in the 21st Century.

The other week, I learned of the death of a 20 year old man. I knew him. He was a student at a school where I was once a teacher. I didn't teach him, but I'd taught two of his brothers. Not long after I learned of his death, I learned that he'd taken his own life. This revelation didn't make his loss any sadder or more tragic, but it did get me thinking about why, over my time in education (which is coming up on two decades), so many young men that I've taught or known have committed suicide. As someone who has a deep conviction that education is a fundamental shaper of the world in which we live and our personal sense of place in it, it troubles me greatly that so many young men feel such a profound sense of disconnection, worthlessness and hopelessness that they choose to die, rather than continue to live in a world that they clearly feel offers them too little.

I've taught in both co-educational and single-sex (boys) environments. They are certainly different, but in many fundamental ways, the boys are the same. You can't reduce them to a type, but there are certainly a few types. The quiet, sensitive souls who find solace and safety in books, music, art or nature. The intellectually driven thinkers, who are certain that with time and effort, the secrets of the world will unlock like a complex puzzle. The rowdy, boisterous lads, for whom banter and bravado are the keys to life; the next lesson always less significant than the next joke, or even, God forbid, the next fart.

And between them all (and the many types I've not named) are those who seem a bit more lost. A bit of this; a bit of that. Often, they struggle academically, despite showing promise. On the fringes of a popular group - often there as the scape-goat - or rubbing up against the less popular boys in ways that offer little satisfaction to either party. They want attention; they want to fit in; but how to do either proves consistently elusive. They lurch from negligible self-awareness to a self-perception so crushingly negative that they are no match for its power. There is also a self-destructive hedonism that blights the road to manhood in Australia, fuelled by the copious consumption of drugs and alcohol.

All too often, this is a deadly combination.

Our curriculum - for all the efforts that are made to meet student needs - leaves too many of these challenges on the fringes of our already cluttered timetables. We still teach subjects in largely traditional ways. We allow ourselves to be hemmed in by external obligations to fulfil state or nation curriculum objectives. We allow traditional timetable models and conventional logistics to blinker our thinking about what can be done. We are too afraid to clear the board once and for all, and completely start again. Until we do this, I think the changes that our young men (and young women) truly require us to make will languish as pipe-dreams in the minds of many who yearn to make a greater difference.

Students need to feel positive about who they are. So little that is learned in school is essential for leading a successful life. Our ability to comprehend, to strategise, to reason, to reconcile, to re-group and try again: these are essentials. The ability to look inside oneself and see the vulnerability intertwined with the beauty: this is essential. The ability to look up the world and the people in it with compassion, with empathy and with the belief that we can all make a difference: these are essentials. And to communicate; especially when there is conflict in the air. Essential. And yet, these are not the core components in any subject-specific curriculum.

We need to break out from the limits of this archaic paradigm. We need young people to possess capacity and to believe in their capacity. We need them to feel alive, and connected to the world around them. We need them to feel loved.

There are many who may well argue that this is beyond the scope of any school's mandate or responsibilities, or simply beyond what is possible. I would agree that many of those with whom I've worked over the years would have no idea where to start if asked to help a boy achieve something as touchy-feely as self-love. There would certainly be a great deal of teacher education involved, and many who excel at teaching subjects would struggle to find a place in this radically different educational landscape. I am less concerned about the need for job transitions than I am for keeping our vulnerable young people alive.

The paradigm shift in thinking and in school structure that is required here is massive. Almost beyond comprehension. Many variables to consider; many unsolved problems. But that's just not good enough a set of reasons not to try. Our current model is in a state of perpetual failure. The loss of young life is overwhelming evidence of this. The blame cannot be shifted to 'society'. We as educators demand respect and remuneration for the roles we play; we need to own our opportunities, our responsibilities, and risk failure as many times as is necessary to give young people the sense of internal resilience and strength necessary to navigate the challenges of this world, and ask for as much help as is needed, every single time that it is needed.

It starts with the child. The heart, the mind, the soul. We need to treat this like it is: not the raw material of a student, but the sacred core of our entire world. We need to explore every possible way of allowing these beings to flourish, and be prepared to discard every single aspect of our profession as it currently stands, if that turns out to be what it takes, because the lives of our young are worth so much more than this.

I know that I've not heard my last piece of tragic news. But I live in hope that by the time I retire, it will be the cruel hand of fate - and not the desperate hand of a lost soul - that is to blame.