Recapturing Genius: Why Schools Are Dimming Our Brilliance

Video Source: rootsandboots Instagram

Recapturing Genius: Why Schools Are Dimming Our Brilliance

Is it possible to both love and hate something simultaneously? This video definitely gives me these vibes. I absolutely love the fact that 98% of children would be classed as geniuses but equally hate the fact that this only equates to 2% of the adult population.

I decided to dig deeper into the story behind this video and felt it was too important not to talk about it in this week's newsletter. So here goes...

You will probably all remember that kid in your primary class who lived in a world of their own? The one who built bonkers forts out of chairs, saw shapes in the clouds no one else could find, and asked the kind of questions that made even the teacher do a double-take? Yeah, that kid was a proper genius, overflowing with ideas and a sense of wonder.

Where are those adults?

Something happens as those kids weave through school. The cheeky questions get a smile and a "not now, maybe later." The wild forts have to fit neatly within playtime boundaries. That glorious spark in their eyes? It starts to dim a bit with every worksheet and mock exam.

This isn't some fluke. It's a proper trend that makes me cross. Dr. George Land, a bright bloke who did work with NASA in the 1960s, studied kids' creativity over time. (Check out his video above). The results were a right kick in the proverbials. At age five, 98% of children scored in the "creative genius" zone. By 10? That dropped to 30%, and by 15, it was a measly 12%.

It's not about these kids suddenly getting dull.

I probably wasn't a little genius. More like the kid building mud pies and asking why worms don't have knees. It's the system. One that nudges them away from the brilliant chaos of their own minds and towards colouring inside the lines and memorising those facts for a test.

Don't get me wrong: teachers aren't the villains here. They're overworked, underpaid, and doing their best within a system that doesn't make room for the delightfully off-kilter. But the result is the same: we're subtly training the spark right out of kids.

This isn't just about them missing out on some childhood giggles. We're losing the potential Einsteins, the artists who think so differently it hurts, the changemakers who see solutions the rest of us haven't even imagined yet. We moan about a world that feels like it's on repeat, where everyone's taking the micky… yet we've spent generations quietly squashing the very minds that could jolt us out of this rut.

'Recapturing Genius' as a title for this piece isn't some fancy after-school club. It's about a mindset shift. It's celebrating those questions, even the ones that make your brain hurt as parents or teachers. It's rewarding the failed attempts, the absolutely bonkers ideas, and the leaps of imagination that might land with a thud or…just might change everything.

What if we refused to just accept this dimming of brilliance? What if classrooms were buzzing with those kids' questions, shaping the day instead of being shushed aside? What if we, as parents, teachers, even as a whole society, became champions of the wonderfully weird?

We'll never know what that kid in your class, the one who used to build those epic blanket forts, could have offered the world if they hadn't been dimmed. But for all the kids in classrooms today, it's not too late. Let's stoke the fire of curiosity, make damn sure those brilliant, messy, "out-there" minds are cherished. Not just for them, but for the kind of world we all desperately want to live in.

What do you need to do today to fill your tank?

I think in order to listen to George Land and recapture genius in our school system, we need to re-look at 5 things:

- Questioning

- Rebellion

- Failure

- Content

- Wonder

Question Time is a Right: Make dedicated time for questions a non-negotiable part of the day. No question is too daft or unrelated. Instead of aiming for a quick, neat answer, let those questions fuel a proper bit of research, a group discussion, or even change the entire lesson plan. This shows that curiosity is more important than just spouting facts.

It's not just a hand raised timidly, it's a sign that something extraordinary might be about to happen. Question Time isn't an afterthought, squeezed in if the lesson finishes early. It's a cornerstone of the day – a non-negotiable chunk of time where those brilliant, bewildering, sometimes downright cheeky questions take centre stage.

No more hurried "interesting thought, but we need to move on…" Instead, there's an excited pause, a ripple through the classroom. Maybe that question about why clouds don't fall sparks a whole unit on weather patterns. Perhaps the question "Do fish get thirsty?" fuels a hilarious debate about biology and the nature of perception. Or, just maybe, the quiet kid who never speaks up asks "What was there before time?" and the teacher is stumped for a delightful minute.

In this space, it's not about finding the textbook answer. It's about celebrating the act of questioning itself. Teachers become co-explorers, modelling that even adults don't know it all. The kids learn that their curiosity, their unique way of seeing the world, has the power to reshape the very thing they're there to do: learn. This, right here, is where genius starts to crackle back to life

Celebrate the Roads Less Travelled: Get excited about all the different ways to reach a solution. Instead of just the right answer, show those kids that the thought process matters. Students who got it "wrong" might be onto a brilliant idea, even if it needs tweaking. It's about rewarding exploration, not just ticking boxes.

Imagine a maths problem with multiple solutions. Instead of just praising the kid who gets the correct answer fastest, the teacher takes a different approach. They highlight the delightfully roundabout method that took twice as long but uncovered a hidden pattern. They showcase the student who sketched pictures to work it out, visualising the problem in a way no one else did. They even single out the utterly wrong answer, asking the class to work backwards to figure out why it didn't work – an equally valuable skill.

The message sinks deep: there's not just one "right" way to think. The process, the mental leaps, the out-of-the-box approaches – these are just as important as getting to the destination. It fosters a classroom where kids aren't scared to try something unusual, knowing that even a dead-end path might spark a brilliant detour.

Standardised tests train kids to converge on the correct answer. Real-life genius demands the opposite: the ability to go off on ten wildly different paths to find fresh, innovative solutions. This classroom environment, where the journey is valued alongside the result, is where that kind of flexible, creative problem-solving takes root. It reminds of Matthew Syed's brilliant book, Rebel Ideas.

Embrace a Good Blunder: Bust the fear of mistakes. Frame them as a necessary part of learning. Those "lightbulb" moments often come after a few spectacular flops. Encourage students to take apart what went wrong and why – it builds resilience and clever problem-solving, that goes beyond pat answers.

I think of it like a science experiment. The teacher doesn't just demonstrate the perfect reaction. They encourage students to come up with their own hypotheses, their own wacky combinations and theories. Sure, most of them will fizzle out, maybe even with a bit of (safe) chaos. But then comes that moment: a student combines two unexpected elements, and something spectacular happens. It wasn't the planned outcome, but it's a discovery nonetheless.

The class gathers around, not in judgment, but in awe. They analyse what went right, what went wrong, and why. There's no shame in the failed attempts, no eye-rolling at incorrect guesses. Instead, there's excitement for the unexpected. Failure isn't the end of the road. It's a signpost pointing towards something new.

In this classroom, kids learn that those "aha!" moments are often born from a pile of flops. They develop a stubborn sense of resilience, an ability to tinker and iterate, knowing that the most spectacular breakthroughs often hide behind mistakes. It's more than just learning a lesson; it's fostering a mindset that will serve those kids long after textbooks are forgotten. This is how we raise not just students, but inventors, problem-solvers, and change-makers.

Muddle the Subjects: Break down those stuffy subject walls. History could inspire a reet good play about it all. A science experiment could become the basis for a bit of abstract art. A religious studies debate could make for a brilliant English journalistic piece. Show that genius often comes from unexpected connections between things you wouldn't think to mix.

History isn't just about dates and dusty battles. Suddenly, those historical figures become characters in a play, their motivations analysed and debated through a modern lens. The class dissects propaganda posters, not just for the message, but for their use of colour and psychology. It's more than memorising facts (anyone heard me say that a few times?); it's understanding how history bleeds into art, politics, and our everyday lives.

Meanwhile, a science experiment isn't confined to beakers and numbers. It sparks a fierce debate on ethics and unintended consequences. The results of a plant growth experiment become the inspiration for a series of abstract paintings. Those who can switch across disciplines, borrowing and adapting IDEAS, are the ones who'll make the truly groundbreaking leaps.

This kind of cross-pollination nurtures a broader way of thinking. Students don't just see themselves as "good at maths" or "rubbish at art." Instead, they see the world as a giant, interconnected canvas – one where their unique passions and skills might intersect in ways they never imagined possible. That, more than any specific subject, is what prepares them for a lifetime of creativity and innovation.

Protect the Spark: Teachers and parents alike (or even anyone that has a vested interest in the next generations), we've got to watch out for that precious spark in kids. That means standing up to systems that squash curiosity for the sake of test results and fitting in. It means reminding kids (and ourselves) that the best questions might be the ones nobody's even thought of yet.

Teachers wear many hats: instructor, coach, organiser, administrator, houseparent, nutritionist (!) and sometimes (more times than ever nowadays) even counsellor. But in a system that prioritises test scores over curiosity, educators must also become guardians of wonder. This means pushing back against rigid schedules that suffocate those impromptu moments of exploration. It means reminding leaders that a child's lightbulb moment is just as valuable as a perfect mark on a worksheet.

This is hard in the system so let's find ways in and out of it.

If there are any policy makers, influential peeps or politicians reading this, we need to talk...

Parents too, are on the frontlines. It's about resisting the urge to compare, to funnel kids into the "right" after-school activities designed for future CVs rather than pure, joyful exploration. It's about making time for unstructured play, for boredom that sparks creation, for those seemingly pointless questions that might lead to extraordinary things.

I wish I had time to talk about LEGO today. That's for another newsletter...

Protecting the spark is a collective responsibility. It's about demanding educational spaces that give equal weight to creative exploration as they do to predetermined knowledge regurgitation. It's about reminding kids (and ourselves!) that the most important test isn't the one on Friday; it's whether they still get a thrill from asking "Why?" long after they've left the classroom. That spark, the one fuelled by wonder and possibility, is the root of genius. It's up to us all to make sure it never goes out.

It's clear to me that the path forward isn't paved with mere intentions but with actionable commitment. This isn't just an educational imperative; it's a societal one, urging us to champion the curious, the inventive, and the audaciously imaginative. Let's not merely lament the dimming of brilliance but actively rekindle it, ensuring that every child's potential to reshape the world is not just recognised but nurtured. For the architects of tomorrow's marvels are today's questioners, dreamers, and rebels. Let's embrace this challenge, not as a burden, but as the most exhilarating opportunity of our time. To recapture genius is to reclaim our future; let's make it a reality, one curious mind at a time.

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