[This was originally published over at Education.Change.org. I'm putting it online here in case you missed it over there. A big thanks to Clay Burell for allowing me guest post.]

Not long ago, I finished reading Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma, a book about the high price of cheap food and the disconnected thinking that produces it. It made me think that the way we produce food today–that is, ignoring nature’s logic in the quest for efficiency–is very similar to the way we produce “educated” citizens. Ignoring millions of years of evolutionary design has resulted in some interesting (if not disconcerting) similarities between the two camps. Both industrial schooling and industrial agriculture seem to have developed pathological ways of looking at pathology.

Whether in the field, the feed lot, or the classroom, issues of low productivity and dysfunction are commonly attributed to the individual, rarely the larger system that controls it. When a farmer curses a corn plant’s inability to repel a particular pest, he does so without reflecting on the fact that the plant has been taken out of its natural environment and placed into a man-made monoculture–a hotbed of disease. Plants grown in isolation lose the defenses and nutrients that neighboring species once freely provided.  In homogeneous rows designed for the convenience of machinery, a plant’s exquisite defense systems become ineffective. “Corrective measures” in the form of herbicides and pesticides end up coating the plants and sterilizing the soil.

Pigs are faulted for biting other pigs’ tails as a result of being weaned prematurely and packed together tightly. Animals living in stressful conditions, denied the expression of their once useful behaviors, lose the will to protect themselves in the face of danger. As a consequence, when infection sets in on a chewed tail, pigs are put down. (It’s not profitable to nurse them back to health.)   Forward thinking hog farmers, in an attempt to stamp out this “vice”, noticed that by docking the pigs’ tails they could produce a sensitive nub that would force even the most demoralized pig to fight back.

Cows, ruminants which have evolved to eat grasses and fibrous vegetable matter, are today mostly fed a diet of government-subsidized corn. Here again, we ignore nature’s design. Not having evolved for such a diet, cattle end up living in a state of permanent illness, propped up and kept in the system by a permanent cocktail of pharmaceuticals. Big Pharma is only too happy to fill in when nature is ignored.

Our education systems, seeking efficiency through standardization and conformity end up creating students, who just like their agricultural counterparts, are no longer well-adapted to their environment. Michael Pollan reminds us that, “Most of the efficiencies in an industrial system are achieved through simplification: doing lots of the same thing over and over.” Like corn planted in a monoculture, removed from the diversity that protects it, or cattle fed an unnatural diet of corn, students today are fed a standardized diet of procedures and reproducible facts. This educational monoculture does nothing to nourish minds that have evolved to seek diversity, novelty and stimulation.

Those numbed by disconnected ideas unrelated to their needs are soon labeled attentionally deficient, unmotivated, substandard. Stimulants, antidepressants and impulse inhibitors are used to conform the human mind to a deformed system the same way herbicides, pesticides and antibiotics are used in agriculture’s great disconnect. Like the corn-fed cow raised on an unnatural diet of corn, constantly anemic and never well but kept alive through the use of drugs, students raised on disconnected facts, numbing routines, and endless testing, often find themselves on the receiving end of a medical prescription. Those that don’t have the stomach for such unsatisfying fare, who prefer not to be chemically altered, who’d rather have a more free-range existence, are eventually “counseled out”. Simply put: they have not met the required production quotas of a system designed for scalable throughput.

In standardized environments, students with a high tolerance for monotony and the ability to repress their curious gene are deemed the fittest of the bunch.  Strangely, curiosity, a trait nature has selected for and which has served us well, in schools, seems to be selected against.  Blue ribbon students grow their grade point averages en route to graduation and a chance to compete in the “real world”. Their farm analogues, purposed for industry, have been selected to tolerate crowding, pesticides, sameness–but most importantly–to be high yielding. The corn farmer with the most bushels per acre is acclaimed for his skill at converting petrochemicals into grain. The feedlot operator’s profits depend on how efficiently he can turn grain into meat. The highest ranked schools floss in the knowledge that they can efficiently convert standards and routines into high test scores.  Along the way, little thought is given to the soil that is depleted in the field, to the groundwater being spoiled by the feedlot, or to the creativity and innovation being extinguished in the classroom.  How productive is all this productivity?

It seems that despite (or maybe because of) our fetish with productivity, many of humanity’s most pressing issues seem to be getting worse. The unnatural selection playing out in schools creates what every educational institution’s mission statement pledges against: the creation of uncritical, passive, challenge-averse individuals, unwilling and unable to tackle the challenges of the 21st-century. It’s simple to blame the students for being unproductive, unmotivated, for lacking curiosity. Indeed, they often are seen as the problem, especially by those who’ve designed the system. Muhammad Yunus, founder of Grameen Bank however, reminds us that, “The seed of poverty is in the institutions we have made, not in the person.” With more effort and an inward gaze we’d see the deeper connections. We’d see students acting rationally in environments that ignore their evolutionary history. We’d understand that avoiding challenges and dropping out are simply logical responses to a system that discourages risk-taking and too often treats curiosity as a challenge to authority.

In their quest for efficiency and value, consumers have failed to notice the creation of false economies.  We are now using more energy (in the form of oil and gas) to produce a calorie of food than we ever have in our history. What nature used to do for free through biodiversity and solar power, now requires pesticides, herbicides, fertilizers and pharmaceuticals. In the bargain, our industrial agriculture is destroying our two most important environments: our bodies and our planet. Cheap food has led to obesity, type II diabetes and heart disease. Meat marinated in medicine and the effects it has on people (never mind the animals) never seems to make it into the cost-benefit analysis. Polluted air, toxic water and soil depletion are not billed at the supermarket register. Tax payers, subsidizing the food that malnourishes them, complain little. Tax payers, supporting educational systems that miseducate them, complain little. What’s the true cost of an educational system which “through simplification: doing lots of the same thing over and over”, causes mind and spirit to atrophy, suffocating students’ natural desire to know? Maybe the biggest loss comes from the creation of generation after generation who cannot tell the difference between a bargain and a heist.

Michael Pollan writes, “Our food system depends on consumers’ not knowing much about it beyond the price disclosed by the checkout scanner. Cheapness and ignorance are mutually reinforcing.” Education today requires the same relationship. Educational policies seem to display a meager understanding about the importance of curiosity, awareness, or how we fit into larger systems. Education’s checkout scanner–tuition and taxes–provide only a partial accounting of its true costs. Similar to industrial farming, industrial education produces no bargains while diminishing itself in the process. The price of producing a “successful” student may be higher than we think.