They wore ties and titles. They sat at the head of classrooms, the front of boards, the top of bureaucracies. They called it education.

And we believed them.

They took paychecks for a task sacred by nature, igniting the minds of the young. Instead, they handed out scripts. They forced memorization, not comprehension. They praised compliance and crushed originality. They watched children crumble under pressure and called it “rigor.” They watched curiosity die and called it “discipline.” They watched potential waste away and called it “the system.”

But it was never a system built for children. It was built for convenience. To make teaching easy. To keep scores high. To feed the illusion of progress. And they cashed in.

They fed students to the machinery of standardization. They had meetings about test scores while the future of civilization flickered and dimmed in the back rows of their classrooms. They trained minds to regurgitate, not to lead. And now the world is burning, and the minds we needed most were never given the tools to fight the fire.

This isn’t just a pedagogical failure. It’s a generational collapse.

A civilization will not survive on mark the answer tests and busywork. It cannot be led by those who’ve never been taught to think for themselves. And now, as nations arm and the planet groans, we are left with adults who were never educated, only processed.

They are not owed forgiveness. They are owed the full weight of the truth: They are the ones who sold the world. Not for power. Not for malice. But for comfort. For control. For a quiet job and a pension. And for that, there is no apology wide enough.

Now it falls to the young, to those still willing to question, to fight, to unlearn what was done to them. If there is a future, it will be because they refused to accept this lie one day longer.

And they will rise, not because they were taught to. But because the truth burns too hot to ignore.

Oh, the world’s been snared in a sorrowful wrong, Where they’ve bound up learning in fetters too strong. They’ve mistaken the schoolroom, its desks, and its chime, For the fire of true knowledge that burns through all time. But come, hear the tale of the souls who broke free, Who chased truth with a joy as vast as the sea.

There was one who danced with numbers’ bright gleam, Her heart all a-quiver with logic’s sweet dream. No master could teach her the paths she would roam, Through mazes of thought, she carved out her home. (Ada Lovelace)

Another, he wandered where wild rivers run, With a grin for each creature that basked in the sun. His notebook was friend, his pencil his guide, Each leaf was a wonder, each tide a new ride. (Carl Linnaeus)

A spark-chaser laughed as he twisted his wires, His workshop alive with electrical fires. No textbook could hold him, no rule could restrain, His hands found the answers through trial and sweet pain. (Alessandro Volta)

One peered at the heavens, his lens to the skies, Each star a new riddle that lit up his eyes. He’d argue with comets, he’d sing to the moon, His heart beat for secrets the night whispered soon. (Galileo Galilei)

Through jungles he sailed, with a map of his own, Each beast, each strange blossom, a world to be known. His laughter would echo where trade winds would play, For learning was freedom, and joy led the way. (Charles Darwin)

A quiet one smiled as she sifted through light, Her crystals revealing life’s code in the night. No schoolroom could spark what her spirit had found, Her mind was her kingdom, her quest was unbound. (Rosalind Franklin)

He climbed to the peaks where the cold winds would bite, His theories like lanterns that burned through the night. Each question a summit, each answer a thrill, His soul soared with truths that no classroom could drill. (Albert Einstein)

One sang to equations, their beauty his muse, His chalk scratched out patterns no sage could refuse. The cosmos was music, the stars were his score, And learning was rapture he’d always explore. (James Clerk Maxwell)

Through lenses so tiny, one gazed with delight, Each cell a new story that sparkled in sight. No bell could command her, no grade could define, Her heart set the way, and her will was divine. (Marie Curie)

A tinkerer grinned as he toyed with his coils, His fingers unearthing what theory despoils. The hum of his magnets, the arc of his flame, Was joy beyond measure, and truth was his game. (Michael Faraday)

Oh, ye who are bound by the schoolmaster’s lore, Who march to the drum of a standardized score, Cast off the dull chain, let your spirit take flight, For the mind that seeks freely finds endless delight. Wait till ye learn what your own heart can do, When the world’s boundless wonders are calling to you!