Breaking away, redefining freedom

Thank you so much for reaching out and for tackling such a big task! It sounds very exciting and I’d love to share a thought I spoke about yesterday in a networking event and that sums up what I am trying to do with a project I will officially found in the next weeks. Perhaps it might be alright for an intermezzo section: What could be the difference between AI and students? AI sits in a box and processes texts and images about the world outside. Students sit in boxes and process texts an images about the world outside. But students could actually go outside and see, touch, hear, smell, taste, and feel real things. That is their big advantage over mighty machines processing with incredible speed. So let’s give students the freedom to explore the world outside the classroom, to interact with people, to make mistakes and learn from them, to coöperate with others instead of competing. That will make them strong enough to face a fast changing world.

I have been calling in my books not only for “information literacy” but for more complex skill which encompasses orientation in digital jungle, resilience in face of its predators (algorithms perfectly controlling emotions and motivations and riding them towards the interests of those who pay for this service), ability to cultivate digital space (especially avoid aggression and bullying, which is very seductive in the allienated environment of digital avatars), ability to keep the online/offline balance, build up and activate self-control to protect myself before the slide deep into the “rabbit hole” of opinions shared in my echo chambers, continuously confront my stances with the important values and be open to admit that stances don’t adhere to them (advanced critical thinking reflecting myself as a source of information spreaded and shared in digital environment).

We are living through a profound technological transformation—one that’s revolutionizing how knowledge is accessed, shared, and experienced. Yet many students are falling behind, not because of institutional sluggishness, but due to policies that move faster than reality can absorb. Shiny tech tools enter classrooms with great fanfare, but they often lack the emotional and social scaffolding necessary for inclusive learning. We celebrate “innovation,” yet forget to equip young minds with the skills to navigate misinformation, disinformation, and cyberbullying—digital afflictions that increasingly shape their lives.

Mainstream education systems continue to lean heavily on formal, rigid structures. Spaces for non-formal learning, homeschooling, and creative alternatives are either marginalized or dismissed altogether. Even within formal settings, too many models remain stuck in the past—offering learning environments that are neither culturally responsive nor attuned to the complexities of a hyperconnected world.

One glaring example? Climate and planetary awareness. Despite the urgency underscored by scientific consensus and youth climate movements, ecological literacy remains peripheral in most curricula. Education systems are still lagging in cultivating the kind of planetary consciousness that future generations desperately need.

Yet, not all is stagnant. Thanks to widespread educational initiatives and the unrelenting energy of young changemakers, we are witnessing a grassroots push against the status quo. Young people—armed with intersectional awareness and creative advocacy—are reclaiming their right to shape education. They’re not just reacting to inherited systems; they’re redesigning them. From launching community-based education hubs to challenging digital divides and classroom inequalities, youth activists are proposing bold alternatives and policy interventions that operate on both micro and macro levels.

Learning freedom today is being redefined in living rooms, public squares, digital networks, and informal gatherings—anywhere curiosity resists containment. The fight isn’t just about reforming schools. It’s about fundamentally transforming our idea of what learning should be: dynamic, inclusive, joyful, sustainable, and empowering.

This reflection breaks away from the myth that transformation must always trickle down from institutions. In reality, most meaningful change rises from those directly affected. And in the battle for education equity, youth are not passive recipients—they are architects, advocates, and agitators of change.

Everyone a Learner and a Teacher

Daniel Greenberg, a founder of the non-coercive Sudbury Valley School which has now existed for over fifty years, when asked to explain the school’s success said, “Age-mixing is our secret weapon.” His response as much as says that the practice of segregating students by age is an incredible waste of learning resources, but the practice does something of perhaps greater consequence. It negatively impacts young people’s wellbeing and caring for others. A short story of two grade twelve boys who enrolled in a mixed-age pilot program sheds light on these negative impacts.

The program was not unlike a one-room schoolhouse operating as a school-within-a-school. A mix of twenty-five grades 10-12 students had control over how they learned. All day, every day, for a full semester they were in control of how they fulfilled the requirements of mandated ministry curriculum. There were only two criteria for students to take part in the program, they had to be coming to school to learn and committed to creating a community of learners where everyone was a learner and a teacher.

About six weeks into the program the two boys went to the teachers to make a confession. They said they had been deceitful when they enrolled in the program. They would be coming to school to learn, but they weren’t going to help build a community of learners. They planned to spend all their time, just the two of them, learning about computers and were going to have nothing to do with “the little grade ten kids.” They summed up their confession saying, “We don’t even notice the age differences anymore.” They were feeling good, like they had become better people. It’s quite the message. It points to out that age-segregated learning environments breed age discrimination, but it’s a message that extends to other forms of discrimination. The students in this program had the freedom to really get to know each other. The boys discovered that discrimination has no place when you see the human being in others.

Efforts are being made to have schools undertake more of the kind of mixed-age program that gives students the opportunity to see others as equals, which has the additional advantage that the diversity of people gets celebrated. To learn more about this program and how to implement it, visit the Uniting for Children and Youth website (www.ucyottawa.com) website and following the link to an article titled Wellbeing in Secondary Schools: Details of a pathway to mental health.

Thank you for the opportunity to be part of this project. I’m truly excited; you and [Cristóbal] Cobo have been a huge inspiration, and Manifesto 15 was essentially the core of my master’s thesis back in 2015. So, contributing thoughts for Manifesto 25 is a dream come true.

When I was a student in the Inclusive Education master’s program, the concepts of Knowmads and the profound meaning of disruption profoundly impacted me and some of my closest friends during this crazy, challenging, and amazing odyssey that is education, we were teachers, professors and students at the time. We realized we weren’t crazy for thinking outside the box, or if we were, we certainly weren’t alone.

Our professors at the time found those “weird” words uncomfortable: “What on earth is a Knowmad!?” “Why are you promoting disruption!?” “You can innovate, but why disrupt?”

As time passed, my two closest friends and I, the “disruptive ones” who championed the importance of polymaths in education and discussed ideas like the TPACK model, the work of Dolor Reig with TIC, TAC, TEP, invisible learning, Full Spectrum Thinking, adaptive learning, and so many other ideas considered radical, unknown or just “too utopian”

We also discovered that Manifesto 15 became almost a code. It helped us recognize other Knowmads globally. Whenever we mentioned it at education conferences or other events, we’d find someone who understood what we were talking about, leading to shared resources, ideas, lively discussions, and invaluable learning experiences. Although I couldn’t contribute much due to time, work, and other circumstances, please know that you have committed allies here in Mexico, working hard every day to promote an inclusive education for a better world.

What inherited truths or habits are you actively breaking away from, related to the ideas we explore in the manifesto … and why? What educational assumptions do you now see as myths or traps?

• We’re often caught running the race to get to the finish line, an exhausting myth that burns us out and makes us lose sight of the wonders of the journey and the lessons embedded in the adventure. As a special education teacher and professor in a bachelor’s teacher training program, one of the most important and eye-opening ideas I encountered was the need to transform the deeply ingrained idea of always reaching the finish line in education. I could see students and teachers most of the time worried, anxious, with a heavy workload, and running, always running. Whether it’s “getting to the weekend,” “getting to the end of the lesson,” “getting to summer break,” “getting to payday,” “getting to the end of the semester,” or “getting to the end of the year,” we are always running. This is due to many factors: the system and its rigid timelines and assessments, the curriculum, the leadership, or even the way we were taught to teach. However, education cannot be lived as something that willsimply end one day. When teachers run, leaders run, and parents run, we inevitably make our students run too, and we all end up tired. Everything seems insufficient, but that’s because it was never meant to be enough. Education is a continuous process, designed for ever-changing humans in a society that is also in constant transformation, facing challenges and uncertainty. Education is meant to be an opportunity for an enriched development, but humans never stop developing, so why would we believe that education has a finish line? So, as soon as we can deconstruct the idea of the race, we’re set for an enjoyable adventure where everyone can help discover the enriching experiences of the journey. This doesn’t mean we can’t set goals, but they should be seen as opportunities for learning for everyone that’s involved, not just checkpoints. And as the Manifesto points out, “Learning occurs in ecosystems, not boxes.”, or hamster wheels.
• AI is not the enemy from which we must protect ourselves, our schools, and our children. Fear is the real enemy (this feels like something we’ve heard in Star Wars), but as Marie Curie said, “Nothing in life is to be feared; it is only to be understood.”

Banning something as rapidly evolving and increasingly pervasive as AI just because we don’t understand it, or making restrictions without even trying to use it as a tool to enrich, empower, and enhance the learning experience, just makes more evident the need for fostering curiosity and creativity as well as developing critical thinking. This applies not only to our students but also as part of professional development, making them vital features in the profile of education stakeholders. Leaders considering the ban of AI in schools as an act of ethical and moral value can fall into a trap where misunderstanding or the imposition of a personal point of view can limit the development of fundamental skills and and even hinder the healthy challenge of the status quo, thereby preventing the improvement of teaching and learning altogether.

In a conversation with great colleagues about ethics and technology, we reflected on the fact that the struggle with such things is not new. We talked about the TV and the beginning of home computers and how everything went back to the basics: to educate our humanity.

One of my colleagues remembered when his family first had a computer at home. It had a cover and was always unplugged, just sitting there; nobody could use it because “it could be dangerous.” So, at ten years of age, with a well-developed sense of curiosity and imagination, he plugged it in, uncovered it, turned it on, and seeing himself as a real-life detective, started clicking his way into his first attempt to research the wonders of the world. But as soon as his dad, who was at the time a teacher, came in and saw what was happening, got furious, turned off the computer and that first attempt was halted, and that detective in progress was sent to his room, punished for messing with the mighty computer. Our responsibility isn’t to ban what we don’t understand, using ethical or moral values as a fear-driven excuse. Rather, it’s to teach the ethics and morals needed for responsible use and, as professionals, keep learning to provide the best education we can offer.

Where do you see learning freedom struggling, thriving, or being redefined around you (professionally, geographically, politically, …)?

Loving education means loving the adventure, not the machine. In 1938, Robert Merton identified five ways individuals respond to the strain of rigid social structures, in what he called deviant adaptations: Conformity, Innovation, Ritualism, Retreatism, and Rebellion. This reminds me of how, when discussing learning freedom, whether struggling, thriving, or being redefined, there can be several paths or answers to the same problem or situation. Learning freedom can be seen as a goal or a threat, depending on whose point of view we are considering.

One of the most frequent struggles I’ve identified is the misuse of learning as a political showcase. Here, the most important thing is to get votes and take pictures without properly preparing or following up on different projects. As the parade of political parties goes by, various educational programs and plans come and go, never truly taking root. Cristóbal Cobo has highlighted this issue more than once, and to this day, it’s still something that not only affects education projects by not seeing them through completely, but also represents a high cost, not just in workload but emotionally for teachers.

Uncertainty is a reality in which we live. The philosopher Edgar Morin, in his document “Seven Complex Lessons in Education,” talked about preparing our students to navigate uncertainty and acknowledges that it can present certain challenges.

However, adding to this the instability of a system that doesn’t seem to make decisions based on educational needs, decisions that should promote well-being and development, taking into account the realities of the different contexts in which education takes place and society’s demands to bring about positive change, but instead makes them from self-serving agendas, creates an even greater burden.

To this end, and going back to Merton’s deviant adaptations, questioning the system, provoking disruption, and breaking the rules become necessary acts for advocates of a quality, inclusive, and overall fair education. This isn’t about tearing everything to the ground just for the fun of it, or as a social media broadcasting, admiration-seeking act, but stems from the real consciousness of acknowledging education as a key piece for societal well-being. And instead of tearing down, the deconstruction becomes a process of learning and identifying some of the great lessons that are still current to this day because they haven’t become a widespread reality. In the words of Gibson, “The future is already here, it’s just not very evenly distributed,” and some of it, ironically, has been here for a long time. There have been significant efforts already made that haven’t reached us, and working as an open community can make us feel less lonely in this deconstruction and transformation journey.

Some books, sites and other resources you may find interesting: Johansen, B. (2020). Full-spectrum thinking: How to escape boxes in a post-categorical future. Berrett-Koehler Publishers.Miller, R., Latham, B., & Cahill, B. (2016). Humanizing the education machine: How to create schools that turn disengaged kids into inspired learners.

Nouri, A., Tokuhama-Espinosa, T. N., & Borja, C. (2022). Crossing mind, brain, and education boundaries. (Mainly Chapters 7 and on).

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/65/Cognitive_bias_codex_en.svg

https://www.holoniq.com/global-learning-landscape

https://intelligence.weforum.org/discover

https://dashboards.sdgindex.org/map/goals/SDG4

https://www.sdgmapping.ch/

QUINO, 1960-1970

[SENT VIA AUDIO MESSAGES]

Well, for context, I teach, or used to teach, linguistics in degree courses at university and then distance education, educational technology, mostly in post-degree environments.

For both, what I try to do is to, first of all, make people conscious of what they do when they study theory for those disciplines, and I think it’s the same for any other discipline in any case.

I think it has to be made explicit that you teach theory because it is what is known in the discipline and that you have to use those ideas for your professional development and, well, just for, you know, your professional practice.

This is obvious, but it’s not said, and the problem with that is that people don’t necessarily understand it.

So like in many other cases, I think that whatever is done in education has to be explicitly explained.

Sorry about the redundance.

I mean, you have to tell students what the objectives are and why you teach what you teach.

And actually, in my classes, I try to ask students why they think that they have to study whatever I ask them to study and read, and that’s the way I try to focus on doing something that is not the traditional, you know, expository lesson that ends up in repetition of concepts for exams because that is what we’ve been trying to get away from for maybe a century or more, and the results are not very good.

So instead of that, what I try to do is use problem-solving or task-solving centered in each student’s personal practice.

As I teach trainee students in both cases, I think this is very important.

Sorry, trainee teachers, that’s what I meant.

I think it’s very important to do that because they have to figure out how to not repeat what teachers did in the past or what they saw teachers do, but to use what they know to, you know, create new knowledge, solve personal, professional difficulties, working out better ways of doing things.

So this is what I try to do.

As for evaluation, which is one of my concerns, it has to go in the same line because if you try to teach your students to think about the disciplines, but then you have to use an exam format that is just repetition or you fall into using that, then what’s the point of having taught differently?

Students actually study for exams because they have to pass, and if they know they have to repeat, they will just concentrate on learning everything so that they can repeat it and nothing more.

So we have to change everything together.

I know you know this because I said it in the interview the other day.

So this is more or less a synthesis of what I am trying to do to break away from these traditional useless models.

Because as my students are teachers or trainee teachers, I think if they learn this and they experience it as students, there’s a higher chance that they will do something better and different in practice.

I don’t know how much projection into the future I actually get when I ask them to think about professional circumstances and apply theory, but at least they give the first step, which is to understand the value of what has already been learned in those disciplines because that has to be the basis for thinking towards the future, both to build on top of that or to reject it because it’s not good enough and do something new.

Well, I think this is more or less what I mean.

And if I remember something else, I’ll just record something more.

Well, I forgot about something, and it’s this.

I try to work in class organizing discussions of ideas in collaboration.

I mean, everybody contributes what they can, or sometimes they have to solve problems from different angles, but together contributing with each other.

Collaboration, coöperation is not something easy for people who are used to not doing that in education, but, well, it’s the same.

You have to give it a chance, provide opportunities for people to do it so that they can see how well it works, and this is how you can encourage them to keep doing that.

De los hábitos tradicionales que trato de combatir es la impartición de clases desde una perspectiva de cajas aisladas, casi negras, porque, generalmente se limitan a contenidos y estrategias sugeridas por resoluciones curriculares. Estoy a cargo de una asignatura eminentemente técnica como es la electrónica e intento utilizar recursos tecnológicos e integrar los contenidos de la asignatura interrelacionando con temáticas provenientes de diferentes disciplinas. En nuestra vida cotidiana los problemas que enfrentamos no se limitan a una disciplina específica, está constituido por un entretejido temático donde interactúan diferentes tópicos y perspectivas de enfoque de análisis ¿Cómo no incorporar una perspectiva social/ecológica/económica en la propuesta de un proyecto referido a una arista puntual de electrónica? ¿Cómo no desarrollar las competencias en comunicación, venta, marketing y cuidado del ambiente para que el futuro profesional pueda emprender su trabajo en forma armónica con el entorno y contexto con que interactúa? Nuestra educación históricamente fue impartida en forma fragmentada pero la vida diaria nos presenta desafíos donde nosotros, en un momento determinado tenemos que integrar todos esos conocimientos fraccionados, integrarlos y proceder a actuar en consecuencia, utilizando los medios disponibles en el momento ¿Pero por qué no hacerlo en el mismo momento en que estamos aprendiendo y no cuando somos profesionales y tenemos que acudir a sofisticados procesos sinápticos para poder lograrlo en el instante que se produce la situación problemática a resolver? Un docente, un estudiante conectado con nuestro propio micro/macro ambiente desde el inicio de la escolaridad nos llevará a una escuela integrada a su propio contexto, una escuela abierta a la comunidad, al mundo.

As a team co-creating and developing the Cloud School, we are consciously breaking away from the belief that school should be a place of rigid knowledge transfer, with teachers the sole authority who “knows best.” We are increasingly seeing that every student can co-create their own learning process if we give them trust and real influence.

We are moving away from the myth that education must be linear, standardized, and equal for everyone. We know how much harm can be caused by the belief that everyone should develop at the same pace and according to the same principles. Instead, we focus on individual paths, designing our own challenges, and learning from each other – regardless of age or location.

Another inherited “truth” we are breaking away from is blind faith in grading and ranking systems. We see how numbers can kill natural curiosity and motivation to learn. Therefore, instead of grades, we choose feedback, dialogue, and self-reflection. We prefer to ask: “What have we learned?” “What can we improve?” “What have we achieved?” – rather than issuing labels and reducing education to numbers.

On the one hand, we recognize that the freedom to learn still struggles with systemic limitations – core curricula are overloaded, bureaucracy is overwhelming, and external control often blocks bolder experiments. Seeing this, we understand how much further we still have to go to truly trust young people and allow them to take responsibility for their own development.

On the other hand, we observe how freedom flourishes where we create space for independence and shared decision-making. We see this in projects developed in the Cloud: in self-learning groups, in mentoring and project meetings, in student initiatives who boldly explore topics that don’t have space in traditional schools.

Thanks to technology and the remote model, geographical boundaries virtually cease to exist. Young people from various corners of Poland and the world can meet, exchange experiences, and create knowledge together. Politically, although we see tensions surrounding the right to homeschooling and alternative forms of learning, there is also a growing awareness among parents and teachers that education does not end with the school as an institution.

We believe that freedom to learn is being redefined today as the right to choose, the right to make mistakes, and the right to set goals independently. This requires all of us—teachers, students, and parents—to have the courage to let go of control and build relationships based on trust. We see this seed sprouting in small, everyday decisions: in the questions we ask, the space we provide for experimentation, and our willingness to change.

For us, Cloud School is one of those places where freedom to learn is no longer just a postulate, but a living process that we co-create every day—with the full awareness that there is no single path, and that every child deserves their own.

Breaking Away from Inherited Educational Truths: A Reflection Inspired by the Sudbury Model

Growing up, I absorbed certain “truths” about education without question: that learning must be structured and standardized, that authority figures should dictate what and when we learn, and that success is measured through tests and grades. These assumptions are so deeply woven into our cultural fabric that they often masquerade as self-evident truths rather than inherited habits. However, my research into Sudbury model schools has led me to actively break away from these inherited beliefs and rethink what it means to truly learn.

Sudbury model schools operate on the radical idea that children are naturally curious and capable of directing their own learning journeys. There are no grades, no mandatory classes, and no top-down authority enforcing a curriculum. Instead, students are free to pursue their interests, engage with peers of different ages, and shape their environment democratically. This challenges the myth that children need constant external motivation and control to learn. Rather than seeing education as a passive act of receiving knowledge, Sudbury schools view it as an active, self-driven exploration.

Through studying this model, I now see many traditional educational assumptions as traps. One of the most pervasive is the idea that learning can be neatly measured and ranked. This mindset reduces education to a competition and fosters anxiety rather than curiosity. Another harmful myth is that adults always know best about what children should learn and when. By imposing adult agendas, we often stifle the natural love of learning and creativity that children possess in abundance.

In my professional and geographical context, I see both struggles and sparks of hope for learning freedom. Mainstream schools, pressured by standardized testing and rigid curricula, often prioritize conformity over individual growth. Yet, there is a growing movement among educators, parents, and students advocating for more personalized, student-centered approaches. In alternative schools, democratic education programs, and even certain progressive classrooms, we see learning freedom thriving as students are trusted to guide their paths. Politically, however, the push for accountability and measurable outcomes continues to constrain broader systemic change.

Sudbury model schools stand as a provocative counter-narrative, reminding us that true education is not about molding compliant workers or ticking off standards, but about nurturing whole, self-aware human beings capable of critical thought and lifelong learning.

For those interested in exploring these ideas further, I recommend reading works by John Holt, especially How Children Learn and Freedom and Beyond, as well as Daniel Greenberg’s writings on the Sudbury Valley School. Peter Gray’s Free to Learn is another powerful resource, offering research and arguments supporting self-directed education. Ivan Illich’s Deschooling Society is a more classical work that also provides a radical critique of traditional schooling structures. Engaging with these thinkers can deepen our understanding of how education can be reimagined as a liberating rather than limiting force.

Ultimately, breaking away from inherited educational truths is not simply an intellectual exercise — it is an act of reclaiming our faith in human potential. It requires us to question deeply, trust radically, and imagine boldly a world where learning is truly free.

Christel Hartkamp-Bakker

Breaking Patterns That Betray Children’s Rights Ing. Juraj Mazák, Ing. Paed. IGIP mazak.sk

1. What I’m Breaking Away From

One of the biggest lies that forms educational systems around the world is that education is something done to children. That they are the “objects” of learning — empty containers to be filled, measured and tested (= judged). But this is not only false. It’s dangerous.

Children are learners. Active, curious, emotional, complex human beings. They are rights-holders. The UN Convention on the Rights of the Child says clearly: education must respect “the development of the child’s personality, talents and mental and physical abilities to their fullest potential” (Article 29). That doesn’t happen in a system of central curriculum, conformity, pressure, and grades. That happens through trust, support, and freedom.

I have never believed in grades. They do not reflect learning. They reflect compliance, speed, and privilege. Why do we reduce children to numbers or their immediate performance at random moments about something not worth remembering? I now believe in support, not judgment. In guiding growth and equal dialogue.

2. Myths We Must Let Go

Here are a few more educational myths which invalidities I have identified over the years of research conducted at our democratic school:

• That control leads to quality. In fact, the opposite. Rigid norms, micromanaged curricula, and inspection culture kill innovation very effectively. If we want schools to respond to 21st-century challenges — climate change, inequality, mental health — we must let them breathe. Deregulation is necessary.
• That “standardization” creates fairness. It doesn’t. It means exclusion. One-size-fits-all systems mostly fit the dominant culture. The rest — neurodivergent children, Roma children, kids living in poverty — are left behind or blamed for not “keeping up“.
• That school is preparation for life. No. School is life. Childhood is not a waiting room. While we teach children that their freedom starts later, we raise adults who don’t know how to use it. Learning must be rooted in autonomy, care, and purpose now — not someday.

3. Where I See Learning Freedom Today

Learning freedom is under pressure. In Slovakia, only one model of traditional schools is fully licensed. Informal or democratic education remains in the shadows — poorly funded, often misunderstood, and deeply distrusted. Teachers are bound by rigid state curricula. Politicians fear what they can’t control. And parents are scared of alternatives they never experienced themselves. They would rather choose the known disadvantages of the traditional school system (“we’ve all been through it, others will get through it too”) than the uncertainty of the unknown. However, we know there is a survivor’s false belief—some people don’t just survive the school system, they are literally destroyed by it.

We have the best schools that people in the 18th century could imagine—designed according to their understanding and needs. But now we live in a different reality, with new challenges and possibilities that the old system doesn’t fully address.

The educational system provides us with rules about table heights, font sizes in documentation, and dozens of pointless forms. A school can’t even decide how to welcome a child without checking if it fits a regulation. We talk about “inclusive education” while forcing every child into the same mold.

But here’s what many miss: deregulation isn’t chaos — it’s primarily a possibility. It’s air. It allows schools to become alive again. To respond to real communities, real children, real life. Schools need freedom the way people do. Without it, they can’t adapt, care, include, or imagine something better.

But I also see hope. We’ve built a living space for self-directed democratic schooling, community, and dignity. Here, children aren’t “students” — they’re citizens of their own learning. No bells, no grades, no fear. Just nature, questions, mistakes, connection, and growth. It’s not perfect, but it’s real.

We don’t just talk about inclusion — we live it. Children grow up differently. Conflict becomes learning. Vulnerability becomes strength. School is not just a building here — it’s a relationship. A living self-governed community with all (dis)advantages.

And I see freedom elsewhere, too — in self-organized learning spaces, in parents reclaiming responsibility, in every adult who dares to say, “I don’t know — let’s find out together”.

4. Final Thought on infinite uphill battle

We don’t need reforms. We demand acceptance and legitimacy for diverse approaches. We need liberation.

Let communities decide how to educate their children. Let schools design their own rhythm, values, methods.

The role of the state is not to micromanage education — it’s to protect rights and prevent harm. That’s it. Everything else must come from the ground up.

If we truly want to prepare children for a democratic world (do we?), we must build schools that are democratic. If we want responsible citizens, we must stop raising manageable ones. Or at least be courageous to tell them the truth.

It’s time to stop asking “How do we improve the system?” and start asking “What would education look like if we truly believed in freedom?” And the next day, we might think, if we really need to know that - maybe we can let the children figure it out on their own.

Learning to Unlearn: A Personal Reflection on Freedom in Education

Authentic learning comes from freedom, not from being pushed into a predetermined path. Manifesto 25 As a child, I thought learning meant sitting still, following instructions, and memorizing facts. School was about getting good marks, not about understanding. I was taught that children learn best when they’re quiet and obedient to adults. These habits weren’t just around me — they were inside me. Now, as an educator, I see those “truths” for what they really were: traps.

For a long time, I believed that education had to be carefully guided by adults — that children needed to be led step by step, and that age automatically brought wisdom. When I stopped standing behind the “I know best” wall, something unexpected happened: I met the children as equals. It felt risky, even scary at first. But it made space for real connection — and that, to me, is the beginning of learning freedom.

I no longer believe that children should only learn from adults or from within the family or other authorities. I believe they need others — friends, mentors, strangers — who challenge, surprise, and sometimes confuse them, who show them the world from different points of view in various ways. Learning doesn’t have to be gentle and predictable. It should be full of moments — some joyful, some frustrating, some deeply strange. Something like “mandatory tasting”. Every child deserves the chance to taste different ideas, places, values, attitudes and ways of living and thinking. School shouldn’t distance and protect them from the world. It should help them meet the world, piece by piece.

Another myth I’ve left behind is the idea that good learning should feel smooth. Comfort seems to be a weak teacher. Real learning begins when something breaks down — when a group doesn’t work, when someone disagrees, when you miss the last train and when things go wrong. That’s how we build resilience. Not by avoiding problems, but by going through them, trying to solve them, both failing and succeding. Children grow when they face challenges and figure out what to do. Not when we solve everything for them in advance, saving them from consequences of their choices I also used to believe in the power of clear goals. And sure, verbalising an intention helps. If I decide to learn something, I focus, I practice, I improve. But the moments that change me most? They often come uninvited. A weird online video. A friend’s offhand comment. A debate overheard in the bus. These aren’t “lessons.” They’re sparks — tiny disruptions of the Matrix that wake me up and shift how I see the world.

So now, I try to balance direction with openness. I set goals, yes — but I also leave room for detours. I let curiosity lead, even when it feels irrelevant. I don’t squeeze every second for productivity. Because again and again, it’s the unplanned moments that bring the biggest insight.

Around me, learning freedom is both struggling and thriving. In some places, young people are reclaiming education based on their choices. But in most of the schools, fear, shame, and pressure still dominate. Politically, freedom feels fragile. It’s easier to control and measure learning than to trust it. (Would you trust children?!) But the most hopeful spaces I know are small, quiet, and local. A community garden. A curious question. A child making a real choice with full focus and emotionality of the small human being.

It’s time to stop fixing children. Let’s fix the environment around them. Let’s stop asking how to make them “ready for the world” — and start asking how to make the world ready for them.

If Manifesto 25 is a call to imagine new ways of learning, then here’s my answer: Freedom in learning isn’t a system. It’s a relationship. A practice. A risk. It asks us to stop pretending we know, and to start listening — with curiosity, humility, and play.

The Role of the Adult: To Stay Human Team of the Private Elementary School of Democratic Education, Košice, Slovakia slobodnaskola.sk In a self-directed, democratic school, we are reshaping the role of the adult. It’s no longer about leading, correcting, or teaching in the traditional sense. Instead, the adult becomes a grounded, responsive presence. Our task is to hold the space where learning may happen — not to force it to happen. This means trusting the child’s pace, even when it feels slow, strange, or uncertain. It means listening without fixing, noticing without judging. (And writing such essays 🙂.) The adult creates an atmosphere of safety and possibility. We try to show that it’s okay to make mistakes, to change direction, to not know yet. We don’t push the child forward — we walk beside them. We’re ready if needed, quiet when not. Sometimes we offer tools, stories, or honest questions. Sometimes we simply stay close when things fall apart.

Just as importantly, the adult carries the culture of the community — not through control, but through active participation and leading example. We become part of a group that solves conflict with care, respects boundaries, and values every voice. The adult doesn’t teach responsibility by enforcing it, but by embodying it. Our task is to be an imperfect human. To trust, even when it’s deeply uncomfortable. That’s where real learning begins.

One of the hardest things for us, as adults, is grappling with the idea of consent in education. It’s not simple. We often ask a child, “Do you want to try this?” — but we guide, suggest, or sugarcoat so expertly that their “yes” is really just a quiet “I’ll do what you want.” True consent means they choose because it matters to them, not because it pleases us. Honest choice means watching them say “no” without shame, or “yes” with real excitement. This isn’t just about freedom — it’s about honesty. And if we want young people to be truly autonomous, we have to accept that their choices may look boring, risky, or chaotic to us. It’s a shift from manipulation (even when well-meaning) to accepting listening. And when we get it right, something beautiful happens: learning stops being a performance and becomes a partnership — a shared adventure.

Here’s the truth: it’s not just children who need space to grow. It’s also parents, teachers and policy makers. The deeper we go into self-directed education, the more cognitive dissonance we face. Parents say, “I want my child to be free” — but then panic when that freedom doesn’t look productive enough. They worry: “What if they fall behind? What if they don’t fit in? What if I made the wrong choice? What if they make a choice that doesn’t fulfill my expectations?

We get it. This isn’t just about pedagogy. It’s social. Cultural. Emotional. Parents are under pressure to produce successful children regardless of what their child sees as a success. (Many times, we see keeping trying as a success.) Teachers are expected to deliver results. Freedom sounds great on paper — but in practice, it’s slow, unpredictable, hard to measure. People want safety. And the old system, despite all its flaws, promises clarity.

But here’s what we’ve learned: that doubt is part of the process. That growth includes fear. And that there’s no way to build a new system without letting the old one fall apart a little — inside us, and around us. If we could, we would replace ourselves with better guides - as it is not that easy, we have to improve ourselves.

We feel the tension every day. When kids choose “nothing” over our beautiful teacher’s preparations. When a parent loses sleep wondering if this kind of school is “enough.” When we catch ourselves pushing too hard, talking too much, guiding too strongly — because silence and waiting are sooo uncomfortable.

But we keep choosing discomfort compensated by chocolate ice cream. Because in that space, we find honesty. And in honesty, we build trust. Manifesto 25 resonates because it doesn’t offer easy answers. It invites us to look at the world not as experts, but as humans willing to rethink everything. That’s exactly what we try to do. And it’s messy. But maybe that’s exactly the point.