The World is Burning. Why Isn’t School Changing?

As the world reels from the horrors unfolding in the Middle East, rising tensions between Iran, Israel, and the U.S., and the normalization of fear, violence, and disconnection, one question feels impossible to ignore: Where are the changemakers? Where are the generations capable of imagining something different, something more just, more humane, more conscious? They exist. But not in the numbers the world needs. And that’s not their fault. That’s on us. On the systems we’ve upheld. On the schools we’ve accepted as normal.

Schools were meant to help, but they’ve barely evolved. Despite decades of reform talk, most schools still look like they did 50 years ago, if not 100. Rows of desks, national curricula, externally imposed grades, sanitized debates, and very little time to reflect on the state of the world or one’s place within it. Many of the people currently in positions of global power, the ones fuelling war, enabling corruption, and making decisions that leave millions in fear, came from these very systems. Often from elite institutions claiming to prepare “leaders of tomorrow” and "Global Citizens". It’s not a coincidence. When schools reward conformity over questioning, achievement over empathy, and memorization over moral courage, we shouldn’t be surprised by the kind of leadership they produce.

Modern education, like much of society, is rooted in fear: fear of failure, of non-compliance, of not being enough. It mirrors the wider systems we live within, systems that encourage competition over cooperation, obedience over insight. There is little evidence to suggest a coordinated conspiracy or orchestrated agenda behind the state of global systems. Instead, the structures we live within today appear to have evolved through the accumulation of individual actions, those in positions of power pursuing influence, consolidating wealth, and reinforcing systems that benefited them. Over time, these systems became self-sustaining, not necessarily out of malice, but because they are now so vast, interconnected, and deeply entrenched that even those within them may find them difficult, if not impossible, to change.

Despite all this, there are always young people who rise above it. Who see through the illusion. Who act, speak, create, and resist. But the world doesn’t need one or two brave souls, it needs a generation of them. Not just those inspired by a viral post or an Instagram reel, but those equipped with the depth, skills, and courage to lead sustained, meaningful change. And that requires an education system fundamentally different to the one we’ve inherited. The Global Classroom Project isn’t just an “alternative education project.” It’s a refusal to accept the status quo. It’s a reimagining of what learning could be when rooted in experience, empathy, and place. We travel. We ask real questions. We connect deeply, to culture, nature, and community. Our learners study politics not from a textbook, but by living in places affected by political failure and resilience. They engage with sustainability not through simulations, but by working with local farmers, conservationists, and indigenous wisdom-keepers. They develop well-being not as a bullet point, but through daily mindfulness, reflection, and relationship. We do this in small groups, across Thailand, Indonesia, and Vietnam, with facilitators, not teachers; with real-world projects, not exams.

But let’s be honest, This isn’t accessible to everyone. And that matters. We are painfully aware that this type of education isn’t available to most families. Many parents don’t have the freedom to leave their jobs or travel. Many children have no option but to attend their local school, because of work schedules, finances, or geography, if indeed thay are able to attend school. We know this can look exclusive. And in some ways, it is. We need more people building systems like this, not just for the lucky few, but for everyone. Not as premium alternatives, but as publicly supported, community-led models. The Global Classroom is one version, a prototype, not a finished solution. Our hope is that the values behind it, autonomy, empathy, critical inquiry, interconnectedness, can inspire a wider conversation about what education could become, and who it should serve. Because if education doesn’t equip us to stop war and injustice, then what is it for? The world doesn’t need more test-takers. It doesn’t need more perfectly behaved students, climbing a ladder that leads nowhere good. It needs young people who can think differently. Who can question power. Who can build bridges. And who can create new systems, new ways of living, and a more just, compassionate world.