In Search of What You Have
To Parents and Students,
I fell asleep the other day under the shade of the bodhi tree, to the sound of prayers and leaves making their final dance to earth. The same bodhi tree in India, where Buddha is said to have found enlightenment.
But what I am seeking is not enlightenment. I am on my own pilgrimage, which has taken me across Kazakhstan and through India, in search of something that was taken from me. Something that I didn’t realize I was paying, until it was already too late; my educational track, from the Bay Area to Dartmouth and Yale, charged more than just tuition — it also came at the cost of my curiosity. So this year of free-form exploration: hopping aboard random trains and wandering around back-alley markets — is my desperate attempt at reclaiming curiosity.
Photo taken by mentor Kevin
How did we get here? Curiosity is something that we are all born with. For those who have not experienced raising a child, studies show that children between the ages of 14 months and 5 years make an average of 107 inquiries an hour. Curiosity plays a fundamental role in helping us make sense of the world, and in developing key qualities such as resilience, social agility, and adaptability.
However as children progress over the course of their schooling, studies show a decrease to 2.4 inquiries for every two hours of class time in kindergarten, and down to 0.48 times by fifth grade. A troubling trend where the mechanism for learning — an education — appears to be stifling our own drive to learn and understand more. By age 11, if children have lost their curiosity, psychologist Susan Engel believes that they tend to remain incurious for the rest of their life.
This phenomena is the unfortunate reality of our current academic meritocracy. When standardized metrics are the basis by which not only students — but also teachers and schools — are judged, it creates a system that incentivizes rote memorization over inquiry. More insiduously, it fosters a hyper-competitive environment where a child’s self-worth becomes tied to their academic obligations.
When I was growing up, I embraced the head-down, excel within your boundaries mindset that was common in an immigrant household. I remember how I was rewarded for being quiet, for scoring well, for memorizing how to do things — instead of figuring out how they really worked and why they mattered. I felt how my own value, and that of my peers, became tied not to our qualities as people, but to our ability to perform in these rigid contexts. I didn’t realize at the time, but this type of learning conditions someone for a lifetime of jumping through hoops and seeking external validation in order to justify one’s own worth. In no way does this prepare us for the problems of our time. In no way does it prepare us to make a life for ourselves.
From the past few months traveling through Nepal and India, I understand more clearly the value of an education. The schooling available to us in the Bay Area is something that we are incredibly fortunate to have. But I want to be clear of the cost of this education. There comes a point, where instead of being a scaffold for growth and learning, the environment becomes a prison limiting our own potential.
But despite everything, I am hopeful. In my conversations with students, I notice a hunger and openness for knowledge. Against all odds, the spark of curiosity is still lit within them. It shines through in how they pose questions and challenge me in our sessions, and in how they apply the topics from our lessons to sharpen and shape their own worldview. I often feel inspired after speaking with them; they stand at the crossroads where I once stood, making their first set of decisions that will come to shape their lives — with a certainty, a sureness: a sense of self that I wish I had when I was their age.
So really, what I want to say is thank you, for keeping that spark of curiosity alive. As parents, you have a hard task before you. It’s not easy raising a child in America — particularly under the pressures of the Bay Area. But against all odds, your children still have that excitement — the drive and passion to know more. No matter how much this world tries to take it away from them, they still have it. And so my request to you, is to help nurture that spark. To be on the side of your child, and make sure that they don’t have to grow up too quickly. Navigating this new world is by no means easy. But they’ll be ok. After all, they have you as a parent.
As much as this is a letter of gratitude, this is also a letter of warning. Be careful with how you treat a child’s curiosity. If you’re not careful, they’ll end up like me. Roaming around city slums in search of something that may not be found again; feeling oddly envious of the kids playing soccer and flying kites, with no expectations from the world.
Photo taken by mentor Kevin
By mentor Kevin, a Yale graduate who grew up in the Bay Area.
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