We’re quick to romanticize “love of learning,” but I’d argue that “love of school” is even more important.
What’s the difference, you ask? It’s similar to the difference between “loving” and “being in love.” Have you ever thought about that? Falling in love is all warm and fuzzy, all fireworks and butterflies. But loving is something more than that, something solid and unshakeable, like bedrock. Not an emotion, but a choice.
The theologian C.S. Lewis paints a lovely picture of this. He says:
“Who could bear to live in that excitement for even five years? What would become of your work, your appetite, your sleep, your friendships? But, of course, ceasing to be ‘in love’ need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense — love as distinct from ‘being in love’ — is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God….
“They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be ‘in love’ with someone else. ‘Being in love’ first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. it is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it.”
Now, let’s apply to this school.
“Loving to learn” is the warm and fuzzy part — and it’s naturally occurring. Every kid experiences it. Every child is born curious, inquisitive, and hungry to devour the environment around them. But eventually, these emotions fade. No matter how much a kid loves to learn, there will be days they don’t feel like doing it. Look at your own life as an example. No matter how much you love to garden, cook, read, workout, paint, play piano, or whatever else you “love” to do, there are plenty of days you don’t feel like doing it, right? The same goes for kids. There will be countless days they wake up and don’t feel like learning. When that happens — when those warm and fuzzy feelings fade — it’s important for them to have a ground floor. To be rooted in bedrock.
And that bedrock is school.
The reality of “loving to learn”
Do you know which year students are most enthusiastic about school? Kindergarten.
95% of kindergarten students say they love school. But after that, enthusiasm for school plummets. Love of school decreases every single year until students reach their junior year of high school. (Which is when they finally glimpse the light at the end of the tunnel. Oftentimes, their love of school ticks up because they’re about to leave school).
And yes, this is a real thing. It’s called The Jenkins Curve.
So, let me get this straight:
All kids enter the system loving to learn. But school (the very place they practice learning) inevitably kills that desire. What gives?
One reason for The Jenkins Curve is what I like to call “the spinach dilemma.” Most families treat school like eating spinach: necessary, bitter, choked down out of duty rather than desire. Like it’s a “have to,” not a “get to.” School has become the intellectual version of “eating your greens.” Dreaded. Hated. Something kids only want to get away from.
Instead of helping kids love school, we place all the emphasis on love of learning. Nothing gets parents and educators riled up like the idea of their kid innately “loving to learn.”
But what does that actually mean?
When people say they want kids to “love learning,” they usually mean one of two things:
- Learning as fascination. Remember the Mentos and Diet Coke experiment? As kids, we’d drop a Mentos mint into a bottle of Diet Coke and squeal at the geyser of white foam that exploded into the sky. It was a real-life science experiment. And it was fun. This is one way to “love learning” — experiencing the intense thrill of a fascinating activity.
- Learning as identity. This is more of a character trait, a deeply embedded virtue. Picture the Wikipedia-at-midnight type: curious, voracious, intellectual individuals who are constantly on the prowl for more knowledge.
These are fantastic goals — but most educators, with good intentions, over-index on these ideas. They want every algebra lesson to leap off the page, every science project to feel personally life-changing. But school isn’t Disneyland, and it never will be. Not every student will wake up thrilled to conjugate French verbs. Not every twelve-year-old is a budding philosopher. Wanting kids to fall in love with academic content on their own terms is like wanting them to fall in love with push-ups. Some kids will do it on their own, sure, but for the vast majority, there needs to be a clear payoff.
If you want love of learning to last, you need to create a system that kids love showing up to.
Students need a trustworthy system they can buy into
Let’s just call it like it is: school is hard. It’s supposed to be. Which means, there needs to be a system in place that kids can buy into.
Love of learning is a rush, a desire, a feeling that stirs deep within the soul. But feelings fade. Emotions pass. Excitement dims. And when it does, kids need bedrock. They need an institution they can trust. They need a supportive school system that stimulates their desire to learn and keeps them firmly planted in their long-term educational journey; even when all the warm, fuzzy feelings are nowhere to be found. (Especially then.)
It’s just like what C.S. Lewis said.
Loving to learn may be the initial explosion, but loving school is the engine on which education runs.
