For most of human history, no one would have asked, “How should children learn?” Learning wasn’t a separate activity; it was woven into life itself. Children learned by living. 

They learned through watching their parents grind grain or gather berries, through listening to elders tell stories at the fire, through exploring rivers and forests, through play, through helping, through belonging. Learning wasn’t measured, packaged, or standardized- it was natural, instinctual, vibrant.

“School,” as we picture it today with desks, bells, grades, and structure, is actually a much newer invention. It only became the dominant idea of learning in the last 150 - 200 years because during the Industrial Revolution governments wanted a way to train children for factory life.

I’ll repeat that. School was created to train kids to work in factories. And although there have been changes to the structure of school since then, the vast majority of schools still operate by those basic guidelines. They are training kids to show up on time, follow instructions, repeat tasks, sit still, and ultimately to obey the authority of others while suppressing their own thoughts, curiosity and desires. 

This prepared workers, not whole humans. But our children, all children, were never made for factories. Children are made for life.

Before institutions, humans learned from rivers and weather, from animals and seasons, from family and community members around them, from real work and play, stories and elders, from their own instincts and intuition, from feeling a sense of purpose and a desire for exploration. Curiosity wasn’t something parents or teachers had to try and initiate, it was their natural fuel. It still is. We are still those same humans, we still have those same kids, with those same natural instincts, just waiting for us to wake up and remember the way.

I see this every day with Ilya (my 6-year-old). He learns because he is alive. Because he is immersed in real experiences. Because he is free to follow the threads of what lights him up. Because he is surrounded by beings who support his natural evolution and trust his sovereignty. He came here for his own reasons and he feels rooted in his purpose of being this life.

And learning, as the importance of it is emphasized in school, is not lost on us. Everything that is important that school has given a name maps to something in our lives.

When he mixes ingredients to cook with me, that’s math, science, sequencing, confidence, artistry. When he climbs a tree, that’s physics, strength, problem-solving, risk assessment. When he asks endless questions about foxes and octopus, about the solar system and where things come from, that’s biology, astronomy, language, wonder. When we plays make-believe in the woods, that’s storytelling, creativity, leadership. When I meet him in his big feelings and we honor and communicate about them, that’s nervous system literacy, relationship skills, emotional intelligence and inner safety.

There’s no textbook that could replace this, no classroom that can offer more than the living world already does. What we think of as “school” - categories, tests, obedience, time limits, buildings, asking permission to pee, huge groups of kids per one teacher - this is the abnormal thing. A cultural invention. A system designed for a different purpose than true human learning. 

When we let life be the teacher and we flow with the rhythms of the day - moving through nature, building things, cooking, asking questions, exploring, following an inspired impulse, playing in community, resting and cuddling, connecting and feeling - this is the original human blueprint of learning. It’s ancient. It’s organic. It’s what the brain is wired for. It’s enough.  

It’s more than enough. It’s the most potent, holistic, soul-snoring way to grow a curious, capable, joyful human. Life teaches. Children learn. Our job is to simply not interrupt the magic.