Reimagining Education: A Response to Gary (and George)

The other day at the park, my friend Gary—while tossing a ball for his dog George—pointed out something important I missed in my last post (here). He reminded me that the Department of Education doesn’t just set standards and tests. It plays a key role in making sure education is accessible, especially for students with disabilities and those from low-income families.

And he’s absolutely right.

It’s easy to critique institutions and systems (guilty), but we can’t ignore that a lot of people depend on them for basic access, support, and protection. That said, I want to respond—not by walking back what I wrote, but by going deeper into the kind of change I think we actually need. Because while the Department of Education has played a vital role, the real problem is bigger than any one department: it’s the system itself.

Rethinking “Disability” Itself

Let’s start with the way we think about disability. In the current model of education, there’s often a fixed idea of what success looks like—read at this level by this grade, behave like this in class, complete this assignment in this amount of time. If a student can’t meet those expectations in the “normal” way, they’re labeled disabled. But what if the problem isn’t the student? What if the problem is the goal?

John Dewey believed education wasn’t about reaching a fixed endpoint. It was about growth—ongoing, evolving, deeply individual. From that perspective, a so-called “disability” only exists when the system refuses to adapt. If we shifted our view of education to focus on nurturing each person’s unique abilities, then disability isn’t a deficit—it’s a signal that the environment needs to change.

Think of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters—a school that recognizes every student as uniquely gifted and builds the learning experience around what makes them different, not what makes them fit in.

In that kind of system, the role of the educator isn’t to force everyone down the same path. It’s to create conditions where each person can grow in their own way. What’s considered a weakness in one setting could be a strength in another. Dewey believed that the key was adjusting the environment, not trying to "fix" the learner. That’s a far more inclusive—and honestly, more hopeful—way to think about education.

Schools Aren’t the Only Classrooms Anymore

Gary’s point about accessibility also made me think about something else: we tend to assume education mostly happens in schools. So when we talk about making education accessible, we focus on things like special ed services, free lunch programs, and equitable funding. And those things matter—a lot. But the truth is, education is happening all the time, in all kinds of places.

These days, kids are being "educated" as much—if not more—by YouTube, iPads, TikTok, and video games as they are by teachers. The lessons they’re absorbing aren’t coming from textbooks; they’re coming from influencers, algorithms, and whatever autoplay serves up next.

In that context, schools—especially under-resourced ones—are fighting an uphill battle. They’re not just trying to teach kids; they’re competing for their attention.

And that’s the deeper issue. Attention is the foundation of learning. It’s the soil from which all growth—intellectual, emotional, moral—emerges. When our attention is scattered, hijacked, or numbed, even the best educational system won’t reach us. So instead of propping up a model that’s constantly being undermined, maybe it’s time to build something better—systems that honor attention, nurture curiosity, and meet kids where they already are.

A Bigger Vision

So yes, Gary’s right—getting rid of the Department of Education could be devastating for a lot of students who rely on it. But if all we do is fight to protect what’s already there, we might miss the opportunity to build something better.

If we rethink what disability means, and we acknowledge that learning happens everywhere—not just in schools—then maybe we can start designing education systems that are more flexible, more responsive, and more human. Systems that don’t just sort people into categories, but bring out the best in each of us.

Because at the end of the day, the goal isn’t just to preserve education—it’s to transform it. And any true transformation begins with where we choose to place our attention.

P.S. My sixteen-month-old pup, Dewey, keeps teaching me the same lesson: be present, stay curious, and engage with the world around you. It’s a good philosophy for life—and maybe a great starting point for education, too.

Dewey at Dolores