What Western Schools Can Learn From the World

6,616 words

Lucy Crehan
Cleverlands: The Secrets Behind the Success of the World’s Education Superpowers
London: Unbound, 2016

The Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) is one of the most widely recognized measures of academic performance worldwide. Administered by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), PISA evaluates the math, science, and reading skills of 15-year-olds in participating nations. Since its inception in 2000, the test has been conducted every three years (the 2021 assessment was postponed to 2022 due to COVID-19).

Lucy Crehan, a teacher at an inner-city school in England, took a year off to observe the education systems scoring highest on the PISA exam. She spent several months in Finland, Japan, Singapore, Shanghai, and Canada—observing classes and speaking with teachers, students, and parents—in hopes of uncovering the key factors behind their success and seeing what could be copied and implemented to improve English schools.

Eugenics and Intelligence

Like any self-respecting education writer hoping to gain an audience, she focuses on culture and ignores any possible genetic influence on the behavior and scores of each nation. She spends chapter 8 of her book attacking the Singaporean school system for promoting eugenic ideas:

Lee Kuan Yew [first prime minister of Singapore] believed that intelligence was innate and inherited, and that eugenic programmes – such as incentives for the sterilisation of mothers without O [ordinary] levels and tax rebates for graduate mothers – were therefore justified by the future economic success they were sure to bring to the country, by virtue of having a more intelligent workforce (pg. 109).

Crehan dismisses this as an “outdated and inaccurate understanding of intelligence” (pg. 111). Since an educator’s view of intelligence fundamentally shapes their pedagogical philosophy, it is crucial to address her assumptions before engaging with the rest of her book.

While the nature-nurture debate continues, a useful analogy can simplify the discussion without getting bogged down in minutiae. An individual’s genetics function like a computer’s hardware—storage, graphics card, and RAM are capped at a fixed level and cannot exceed their limits, no matter how much one wills them to change. However, these components can be underutilized—like using a high-end gaming computer only for Solitaire and essay writing—or compromised by external factors, such as malware, which diminish their potential.

In this rough analogy, the computer represents a person. Genetics provide the framework upon which life builds. A man may have the genetics of a Greek god, but without proper nutrition and a culture that pushes him to excel, he may achieve little. Conversely, a man of below-average intelligence will not become exceptional simply by attending an elite university, receiving top-tier tutoring, or gaining access to the world’s greatest libraries—his cognitive limits remain; he will still remain below average. A strong education system, reinforced by a culture that values academics, can help students reach their full potential, but it cannot manufacture brilliance where it does not exist.

Broadening the scope beyond the individual and the nature-versus-nurture struggle within a single man, genetic predispositions shapes not only individuals but entire societies. These inherited traits establish the boundaries within which cultures develop, much like a leash that constrains movement. Science writer Nicholas Wade believes these behavioral and intellectual parameters, and the political and cultural institutions developing from them, likely have a genetic basis:

Human nature is essentially the same worldwide. But minor variations in social behavior, though barely perceptible, if at all, in an individual, combine to create societies of very different character. These evolutionary differences between societies on the various continents may underlie major and otherwise imperfectly explained turning points in history […] if all individuals in a society have similar propensities, however slight, toward greater or less social trust, say, or greater or lesser conformity, then the society will tend to act in that direction and to differ from societies that lack such propensities.[1]

Crehan briefly acknowledges that “intelligence is partly heritable” (pg. 114) but quickly sidesteps this fact. She devotes a chunk of her discussion of Singapore to attacking IQ exams, arguing that intelligence and IQ are distinct and should not be conflated. According to Crehan, intelligence reflects a person’s cognitive ability, which increases with age as they become capable of solving more complex problems (a twenty-year-old with an IQ of 80 will be more capable of problem solving than a six-year-old of equivalent IQ). IQ, on the other hand, measures “general cognitive ability relative to the rest of the population” [emphasis added] (pg. 115). This means that if Johnny has an IQ of 90 at age 9—indicating he’s about a year behind his peers cognitively—he can still continue to learn and grow in intelligence (learning new information), but his IQ may remain unchanged, giving the appearance of his intelligence failing to increase. She illustrates this distinction with the table below (pg. 116):

Julie’s average developments:
Age:	6	9	12	15	Increasing
Scores:	23	45	65	83	Increasing
Mental age:	6	9	12	15	Increasing
IQ:	100	100	100	100	Stable

Crehan is correct that people, regardless of their IQ’s, continue to gain knowledge and reasoning skills throughout their lives, but she errors in using that to disregard IQ as an important metric. Because of the relative stability of IQ scores across a person’s life it provides a fair indicator of their academic success compared with their peer group; a fifteen year old with an IQ of 110 will find 9th grade much easier than a classmate with an IQ of 90. High IQ scores are linked with longer average lifespans, increased likelihood to attend and graduate college (and higher grades in college), and higher income.[2]

Charles Murray explains one cause of the reluctance to accept a link between genetics and intelligence:

Many people with high IQs really do feel sorry for people with low IQs. If the environment is to blame, then those unfortunates can be helped, and that makes those who want to help them feel good. If genes are to blame, it makes people who want to help them feel bad. People prefer feeling good to feeling bad, so they engage in confirmation bias when it comes to the evidence about the causes of human differences.[3]

Homogeneity in Schooling

A second issue that Crehan approaches cautiously is the role of ethnic homogeneity in the success of top-performing countries. Finland, highlighted for having the highest literacy scores in Europe, is overwhelmingly mono-ethnic, with 90% of the population identifying as Finnish; the next largest ethnic group, Russians, comprises only 1.3%. Similarly, the school systems in Singapore, Shanghai, and Japan are dominated by a numerically and culturally homogenous majority. While Crehan largely sidesteps the implications of this, she hints at the challenges of diversity in education when she notes that Canada “performs well despite being culturally and geographically diverse” [emphasis added] (pg. 8). She also briefly acknowledges the negative impact of immigration on test scores in both Finland and Canada.

A homogeneous population provides a shared cultural foundation for teachers, making it easier to explain concepts and draw meaningful connections through common references and metaphors. Studies have shown that reading comprehension is closely tied to a student’s background knowledge of a topic. In one study, poor readers who were familiar with baseball outperformed strong readers who lacked baseball knowledge when tested on a passage about the sport. Similarly, an Indian student would likely comprehend a passage about cricket more easily than an American student, simply due to familiarity with terms like “wicket” and “run chase.”[4]

When students lack a shared foundation of cultural references—whether from sports, religion, fairy tales, movies, food, or history—teachers face significant challenges. They must either pause to teach these foundational concepts, slowing or derailing the intended course, or forgo deeper explanations altogether, limiting students’ ability to engage with the material. In How to Read Literature Like a Professor, Thomas C. Foster highlights how literature often builds upon or reinterprets familiar narratives from the Bible, Shakespeare, fairy tales, and mythology—particularly Greek and Roman mythology and Grimm fairy tales. Students without a basic understanding of Christianity, for instance, are at a disadvantage when studying Western history, art, and literature, including Shakespeare’s works.

An ethnically and culturally diverse student population presents challenges to education, as students bring differing expectations regarding both the purpose of schooling and acceptable behavior. In Other People’s Children, black educator Lisa Delpit highlights subtle yet significant cultural differences between white, Native American, and black students and teachers. One example she provides is the contrast in how authority is expressed: Upper- and middle-class white parents tend to use indirect commands with their children, such as, “Isn’t it time for you to pick up your books?” or “Would you like to clean up?” While phrased as questions, these are understood as directives within white cultural norms. In contrast, black parents often use direct commands, such as, “Pick up your books” or “Boy, get your rusty behind in that bathtub.”[5] This easily leads to a disconnect between the majority white teaching force and the non-white students. A white teacher issues an order when saying, “Would you like to sit down now?” but a black student may interpret it as an actual question rather than a directive. This can result in the student being perceived as disobedient when, in reality, the communication mismatch, combined with differing expectations of classroom behavior, is at fault.

Another key difference lies in perceptions of authority: in general, white students tend to view authority as inherent to a person’s position—teachers are to be obeyed because they hold the role of teacher. On the other hand, blacks disregard titles of authority and focus on the actions a person performs—a teacher’s authority comes from controlling the students in the classroom, and if they fail to do so, the black students view them as illegitimate. A white teacher acting “chummy” is still perceived as the authority figure by white students but interpreted as “weak, ineffectual, and incapable of taking on the role of teacher” by the black students. Instead of relying on their title to command respect, black students expect teachers to establish authority through “exhibition of personal power” and assertive classroom control.[6]

An impartial observer would immediately recognize the ensuing chaos when a wide range of worldviews collide in a single classroom. Some students expect the teacher to exert soft power, while others respond only to direct authority. Expectations for behavior, appropriate volume levels, and the value of education itself vary drastically. Add to this the differences in language proficiency and cultural references, and the result is a fragmented learning environment inconducive to teaching and learning.

Crehan briefly touches on the idea of “relatedness” between students and teachers and between teachers and their coworkers. This “relatedness” functions similarly to social capital, where “relationships are characterized by high trust and frequent interaction” (pg. 52). She cites a study in New York showing that when teachers share strong social capital with each other, there is a noticeable gain in student math scores; the researchers theorized that teaching improved as educators felt comfortable collaborating with each other.

Robert Putnam’s (in)famous study showed that as diversity increased, social capital declined.[7] Putnam’s “study found that ethnic diversity causes a decrease in community trust, engendering feelings of powerlessness and alienation.”[8] Anyone who thinks through the ramifications of diversity can see the problems that it creates. The more varying people you put together, the more languages you have, which reduces the ability to effectively communicate—if you can communicate at all; the more ethnic and religious groups you cram together, the greater the likelihood of conflicts arising; different cultures have different virtues, manners, customs, and morals, greatly increasing the chance of offense, disagreement, violating taboos, and misunderstanding. “If you have to accept everyone, no matter how hostile they may be to your own personality, philosophy, or mission, then an operation would quickly become paralyzed by fatal disagreements.”[9] The relative homogeneity of Japan, Shanghai, Singapore, and Finland’s schools helps them avoid the paralyzing effects of diversity.

Race and PISA

One final note before delving into Crehan’s book: before dismissing the U.S. education system based on its overall PISA rankings—465 in math (34th), 499 in science (16th), and 504 in reading (9th)—it’s worth examining the scores by demographic group. White American students, for instance, scored 498 in math, which would place them 9th globally; 537 in science, tying for 4th with Taiwan; and 537 in reading, ranking 2nd in the world.[10] Asian American students scored roughly 40 points higher than whites in each category, which would place them 4th in math, and 1st globally in both science and reading.

On the other end of the spectrum, black American students scored around 50 points below the U.S. average, placing them 52nd in math, 43rd in science, and 35th in reading. Despite this, they still outperformed many Latin American countries and ranked ahead of Morocco, the only African nation that participated in the 2022 PISA exam. Hispanic American students scored 43rd in math, 36th in science, and 21st in reading—ranking above all participating Latin American countries.

When comparing students within the same demographic groups—whites with whites, Asians with Asians, etc.—the U.S. education system appears to be more effective than most other countries. However, its overall scores are dragged down by averaging across its diverse student population and then comparing the results to more homogeneous nations. As Diane Ravitch noted, “the only guaranteed strategy [to improve test scores] is to change the student population, replacing low-performing students with higher-performing students.”[11] Simply altering the demographic makeup—without changing curriculum or pedagogy—could theoretically propel the U.S. education system to the top of global rankings. Perhaps, instead of sneering at American education, other nations should consider learning from it.

But let’s set that aside for now and turn to what Crehan observed during her education tour.

Lessons from China and Japan

With these premises in mind, let’s turn to the lessons from Crehan’s journey. In Japan and Shanghai, she notes a strong emphasis on a growth mindset over a fixed mindset. The fixed mindset views intelligence as an unchangeable trait—a person is simply dumb, average, or intelligent, with little room for improvement. In contrast, the growth mindset holds that effort and study drive intellectual development. Under this belief, a mediocre student can rise to the top through tutoring, reading, and consistent practice.

Crehan traces this belief system back to Confucian traditions and the imperial examination system established in China. Chinese children grow up hearing stories like that of Kuang Heng, a Han dynasty scholar who overcame poverty through relentless dedication. Unable to afford lamp oil to study at night, Kuang “bored a small hole in the wall of his house, letting through the light from his richer neighbors. By this light he studied through the night, and became an outstanding scholar” (pg. 158). This story, and others like it, encourage Chinese children to view diligent study as the pathway to success.

In Japan, children learn the importance of gaman, a Zen Buddhist principle meaning “enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity” (pg. 66). This philosophy is ingrained in their education system in both physical and academic challenges; schools lack heating or air conditioning, and students wear the same uniforms year-round to instill resilience and enduring discomfort with dignity. More importantly, gaman shapes their approach to academics—rather than viewing the pressure of school exams as something to be avoided or reduced, the Japanese see them as a crucial part of learning. Education is not meant to be easy; students are expected to work hard and persevere.

Additionally, gaman runs counter to the prevailing ideology in Western schools that education must be fun and engaging at all times. The Japanese accept that school—and life itself—often involves tedium, discomfort, and boredom. They would find John Taylor Gatto’s complaint that schools are “boring” to be absurd;[12] schools are not meant for entertainment but for learning. That is not to say that Japanese students never have fun, but it is not the priority.

At age fifteen, Japanese students take an exam that determines which high schools they are eligible to attend—prior to this, all students, regardless of social class, attend the same elementary and middle schools. Within Japanese culture, exam results are viewed as “based on how hard the young person has studied” rather than an innate measure of intelligence (pg. 79). This belief fosters a strong work ethic, encouraging students to dedicate more time and energy to their studies than they might in a culture where intelligence is seen as a fixed trait.

In the 2000s, educators attempted to implement programs teaching students about growth mindset. They encountered mixed results. The general conclusion—leading to the slow removal of growth mindset lessons from schools—was that while the concept could help students succeed, family influence and broader cultural beliefs about intelligence played a far greater role. Teachers could not override the students’ beliefs about intelligence with a few lessons on the topic. As one educator put it, “Our intelligence may be malleable, but our views about intelligence are relatively fixed.”[13] For European countries to enjoy the benefits of a growth mindset mentality a broader cultural shift would be necessary rather than changes limited to educational institutions. Hopefully, a balance can be struck between acknowledging the effects of genetics on intelligence and personality—embracing a hierarchical understanding of ability—while still promoting the benefits of a growth mindset, without succumbing to destructive egalitarian ideologies.

Another lesson from Japanese schools is amae, or dependence. In elementary school, children are placed into a han, a group of four or five students who sit, work, eat, and help clean the school together. Rather than praising or disciplining individual students, the han is rewarded or punished, reinforcing the idea that success and failure are collective. The goal is to help students understand and accept the “inevitable restraints on their individuality that come from living as part of a group” (pg. 69). This emphasis on interdependence fosters a sense of responsibility and cooperation, contrasting with the individualistic approaches common in Western education systems.

Initially, Crehan was concerned with the chaos she saw in the younger classes. However, one of her interviewees explained that rather than the teacher disciplining and controlling students directly, most of the enforcement was left to the students’ han. Rather than calling out an individual student for misbehavior, such as being out of his chair, the teacher would address the class more generally, saying, “The yellow han group isn’t ready yet” (pg. 71). The members of the han then berate and implore their fellow student into behaving rather than the teacher disciplining the individual.

At older levels, Japanese students remain in the same class for all their subjects; instead of moving between rooms like American schools, the teachers rotate between classes. These classes compete against each other in athletics, art competitions, and other events. For discipline, a male and female student are designated as class leaders, responsible for ensuring their peers follow rules, stay on task, and contribute to school events and competitions. If a student misbehaves, rather than directly reprimanding the individual, teachers reprimand the class leaders for allowing the behavior.

A modified version of the Japanese system could be adopted to counter the excessive individualism prevalent in U.S. schools; the current emphasis on self-expression over group cohesion allows anti-social, destructive, distracting, and paraphilic behaviors to go unchecked in society because no one holds any regard for the others around them. Without a sense of shared responsibility, students feel little obligation to consider how their actions affect others. Because the Japanese care what other people think, holding social harmony as an important virtue, they can be shamed into conforming to a standard of behavior rather than letting non-conformity proliferate into a cancerous growth.

The third lesson from Japanese and Chinese education that could be adopted (or more accurately, reimplemented) in Western schools is the emphasis on memorization and repetition. Memorization used to be a foundational part of education in the West—students memorized poetry, speeches, and mathematical formulas—but has faded due to the progressive pedagogical reforms implemented by John Dewey in the early twentieth century. Dewey and his intellectual inheritors feared that “such an ‘uncreative’ activity as memorizing someone else’s speeches would jeopardize a student’s freedom and creative development. Indeed, rote memorization of anything is discouraged, for to do so would implicitly acknowledge that a body of information is authoritarian enough to warrant committing it to memory.”[14] In Chinese and Japanese schools, however, students are expected to memorize multiplication tables, geometric properties (such as the properties of a parallelogram), and other essential information. By committing these facts to memory, students can recall them quickly, saving mental processing time and allowing them to tackle more difficult tasks. For example, when simplifying the fraction 8/12, a student who has memorized multiplication tables will immediately recognize that both numbers are divisible by 4 and can quickly simplify it to 2/3; a student without that knowledge will flounder. Reintroducing structured memorization in Western education would provide students with a solid foundation, enabling them to engage more effectively in higher-order problem-solving.

Japanese education emphasizes applying information to real-world scenarios, encouraging student groups to work through problems implementing what they’ve learned. In contrast, Chinese education places more emphasis on practice, requiring students to complete a larger number of problems. The Chinese approach helps students solve problems intuitively and quickly, without needing to think through each step. As one of Crehan’s colleagues explains:

A tennis couch teaches you how to serve. You toss the ball, you practise tossing the ball 100 times until you reach that consistency, then you practice pulling back your racket, and you pull back your racket enough times, and you try to smash it, you try to smash it again, and your coach gives you feedback. And they break it down into steps. Thing is, when Roger Federer serves, he doesn’t think through those steps, it becomes so a part of himself, it’s in his blood, and he has that natural instinct to do it. So now, translate this to learning anything, or learning, for example, math. You need to have a massive amount of practice until you forget those steps. But the thing is, the Asian system is good at giving students so much practice, that they forget about the steps. They think it’s just an intuition, or they perceive it as intuition, but of course it’s not natural intuition (pg. 183).

Western schooling rejects the importance of practice. Instead, it leans on discovery-based or problem-based pedagogy, where students are presented with problems or scenarios and expected to deduce broader concepts by working through them. However, current research suggests that “problem-based learning, where the new information students receive is through self-direction rather than from teachers, is not effective at getting children to understand new knowledge and new concepts” (pg. 230).

If research shows that teacher-led learning, combined with memorization and practice (or one could say memorization through practice), is effective, why do Western professors of education push for discovery-learning? In the words of education writer Daniel Buck, “As with every educational misconception, all roads seemingly lead back to Rousseau.”[15] Rousseau’s book Émile: Or, On Education lays out his philosophy on education and child-rearing. The book follows the instruction, from birth, of the titular Émile, a fictional boy through whom Rousseau elaborates on his ideas. A major premise of Émile, and of Rousseau’s philosophy, is that man, when left to his own devices, will be naturally inclined to goodness (the “Noble Savage”) and will make decisions in his own best interest. By contrast, in society, men will steal, lie, and murder in order to please others and to elevate their status in relation to others.

In this view, the rules and schedules of schooling are detrimental to learning—children should not be constrained in their decision-making—because such constraints inhibit a child’s mind from developing naturally. A parent (or guardian) should put “him in the condition always to be master of himself and in all things to do his will, as soon as he has one.”[16] Rousseau believed that attempting to control a child’s actions or steer him toward virtue would instead lead him into vice and prevent him from developing into a man.

John Dewey built upon these ideas and railed against memorization, or even the notion of a canon of authoritative texts and ideas that students should be expected to learn. Dewey applied the libertarian streak of Western philosophy to education, hoping to free students from the oppression of tradition and authority. Discovery-learning allows students their freedom, whereas expecting them to listen, memorize, and practice forces them to obey and acknowledge an authority greater than themselves.

For education to improve, the broader Western culture must shift away from its ideal of unbridled individual freedom and accept a hierarchy in which teachers hold knowledge over students, who are to obey and learn. Until this libertarian streak is curtailed, pedagogy will not improve due to an ideological blockade.

Tracking

On the topic of hierarchies, we should touch on tracking. Tracking, also called streaming, refers to organizing students based on academic ability. In U.S. schools, Advanced Placement (AP) classes represent the most common and accepted form of tracking, though they have recently come under attack for being inequitable, as few black and Hispanic students choose to enroll in these courses.

In many countries, tracking takes the form of separate schools rather than just a few separate classes. For example, in the German school system, students may be placed into one of five different types of schools after completing their primary education around the age of 10. In contrast, countries such as Japan, Shanghai, Finland, and Canada keep students in mixed-ability classes, with no separation by academic ability, until the age of 15.

Crehan notes that countries that track students after primary school—such as France, Germany, Italy, Greece, and the Netherlands—tend to have greater inequality in educational outcomes compared to those that do not track, such as the United States, Canada, New Zealand, Iceland, Norway, and Turkey (pg. 36).

Of the schools Crehan visited, the exception to tracking at age 15 was Singapore, which officially offers mixed-ability classes from ages 7 to 12. However, the prestige and rigor of primary schools vary, leading to competition among parents to secure placements in the best schools. At age 12, students take the Primary School Leaving Examination (PSLE), which determines “what school you go to, what exams you are able to take, and what kind of job you will therefore end up doing” (p. 105). The results of the PSLE place students into different educational pathways:

• The top 8% gain access to A-level courses, which are similar to AP classes in preparing students for university.
• 60% enter the Express Stream, which is comparable to regular high school classes; the top 20% of these students go on to junior college, while the rest attend a polytechnic institute after graduation.
• 20% of PSLE takers enter the Normal Academic course, which prepares them for either a polytechnic school or the Institute of Technical Education (ITE).
• 11% enroll in the Normal Technical stream, where they take a mix of academic and vocational courses and are expected to continue at an ITE.
• 5% of students fail the PSLE and are placed in a vocational school (pp. 107–109).

Crehan criticizes Singapore for being inequitable and opposes sorting students at such a young age. However, while “Singapore’s educational system does not produce equitable outcomes, they do very well at getting a high proportion of their young people to reach baseline levels in reading, maths, and science. Fewer students score very poorly in the PISA tests here than in most other places” (p. 129). Of the last five PISA exams, Singapore ranked highest in mathematics four times, placing second in 2018 behind China. In science, it ranked first twice, second twice, and third once. Singapore has achieved similar results in reading.

So, while this system may unsettle egalitarian sensibilities, Singapore’s rejection of the growth mindset in favor of a “eugenic” concept of fixed intelligence—then structuring its school system accordingly—appears to yield results.

While Japan, Shanghai, and Finland do not follow Singapore’s early streaming of students, they do offer students the option of attending vocational schools after the age of 15, rather than expecting all students to pursue an academic path geared toward university. The United States could improve its education system by dedicating more energy, attention, and funding to vocational schools rather than focusing solely on the traditional high school model. Many students would benefit more from an apprenticeship than from another year spent sitting behind a desk. Additionally, adopting a streaming system to group students by academic ability(without screaming about discrimination) would help maximize students’ potential.

Early Education

The common assumption is that the earlier a child begins schooling, the further they will advance academically. In the United States, most students begin school at age five (kindergarten), with some starting preschool at age four; most states mandate schooling beginning at age six. Similarly, children in England typically start formal academic training at age five. By contrast, Finland, Singapore, and Shanghai do not introduce academic expectations until age seven.[17]

Students who start school earlier often have only a marginal lead in reading performance by age nine, and by age fifteen, there is no noticeable difference in reading achievement. Crehan notes that “[w]hile academic programmes at an early age often have positive effects on academic outcomes for the first few grades, these effects tend to wash out by the time children reach the end of primary school, with later starters catching up and, in a few cases, even overtaking their earlier-starting peers” (pg. 18).

Delaying the age at which students start school correlates with reduced inattention and hyperactivity, improved mental health, and lower rates of teen pregnancy. This evidence suggests that a later start to academic schooling may be beneficial.

However, this does not mean that what students do before entering school is unimportant. Attending a high-quality preschool—which, importantly, is not academically focused—can contribute to better intellectual and social development, particularly for “disadvantaged children.” Students who attended preschool “averaged 54 points higher on the PISA reading assessment – or more than one year of formal schooling” (pg. 19).

How does Crehan define a high-quality preschool? She outlines three key criteria: a high staff-to-child ratio, highly qualified staff, and a developmentally appropriate curriculum. Using Finland as an example, preschools there maintain a maximum ratio of one staff member for every seven children. Staff members must have qualifications similar to an associate’s degree and participate in ongoing professional development. For curriculum, staff provide opportunities for children to explore letters and math through playful activities, but students are neither graded nor forced to learn. Before entering grade school, students are assessed for readiness; if they are not yet ready, they remain in kindergarten.

On a tangent from Crehan’s book, why does high-quality preschool have a greater impact on “disadvantaged children” (often meaning those who are not white or Asian)? For many, it provides a structured environment away from the dysfunction of their home lives—separating them, at least for a few hours, from neglect, violence, alcohol, drugs, obscenity, vulgarity, and other harmful influences. Even with a staff member’s attention divided among multiple children, these students often receive more care and guidance than they do at home. As much as people love to trumpet that parents know what is best for their children, for some, the best thing may be to spend time in the care of someone else, even if only for a few hours each day.

By contrast, Japanese mothers are expected to be heavily involved in their child’s education. Nearly half of Japanese mothers report feeling pressured to leave their jobs upon becoming pregnant so they can focus on raising their child. Japanese schools provide parents with a list of responsibilities, including checking their child’s homework, enforcing a specific bedtime, and limiting playtime during the holidays (pg. 85).

Chinese parents embrace their role as guides for their children. Due to their mindset—viewing failures as opportunities to learn—Chinese parents tend to downplay their children’s successes, fearing that “emphasising their achievements might lead to a lack of motivation to learn.” Instead, they are “more prone to highlight their children’s failures” but then work to help support their children as they learn from their mistakes (pg. 161). Some women have embraced the title of “Tiger Mother,” fiercely controlling their children’s activities to ensure they complete homework, attend tutoring if necessary, and participate in extracurriculars. As Amy Chua writes in Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother:

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you’re good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest in the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up (pgs. 189-190).[18]

Teacher Selection and Training

As Nietzsche pointed out over a century ago, the more you expand the pool of people being taught, the more teachers you must recruit—diminishing overall teacher quality as more individuals enter the profession who are not fully suited for it academically, mentally, or emotionally.[19] How do these top-scoring countries maintain high teacher quality while also keeping their schools fully staffed?

In each of these countries, there is a strong emphasis on teacher quality. In Finland, teachers are highly respected due to the rigorous training they undergo. All teachers must complete five years of education to earn a master’s degree. Additionally, only eight colleges in Finland are approved to train teachers, and these institutions are highly selective—admitting just one applicant for every ten who apply. While teaching is not considered a high-status career in Finland, teachers are nonetheless well respected because of the competitive selection process, extensive training, and dedication required for the profession.

Because of this strict selection and training process, Finnish educators are given a high level of trust and autonomy once they begin teaching. Unlike in many other countries, Finnish teachers are not subject to frequent observations and evaluations. One Finnish teacher connected their disdain for micromanagement to their country’s history of occupation by the Swedish and Russians. During that time, they developed a strong cultural attitude of “Hey, I do my job, go away, you don’t have to look over my shoulder” (pg. 54). Many Finnish teachers prize this autonomy and would leave the profession if it was lost.

Singapore offers two incentive pathways to encourage individuals to become teachers. The first is a series of scholarships for students who promise to teach for four to six years. The government funds their studies, either in Singapore or overseas in countries such as the United Kingdom or France. To a large extent, this system is similar to the Teach for America (TFA) program in the United States, except it requires a longer commitment and is run directly by the government rather than a NGO. Since most first-year teachers struggle and are often ineffective, the four-to-six-year term allows them time to develop their skills and become effective educators, reducing the rapid turnover seen in TFA.

Unlike many other countries, Singapore offers a pathway to teaching without requiring a bachelor’s degree. Instead, students from junior colleges and polytechnic schools can complete a one-year program at the National Institute of Education to become teachers.

Teachers in Singapore, as well as in Shanghai and Japan, spend less time in class with students than their counterparts in Western schools.[20] However, this extra time is not spent idly sitting on their phones; they are expected to meet and collaborate with colleagues to improve their teaching practices and curriculum. In Singapore, teachers are entitled to—and expected to complete—100 hours of professional development training each year. These trainings are designed in at least two parts, spaced several months apart, allowing teachers to implement what they learn in the first session and provide feedback in the second. In contrast, most professional development sessions in the United States are one-off meetings with no follow-up. Additionally, teacher pay in Singapore is tied to professional development and career advancement. After their first year of mentorship and evaluation, teachers are considered “qualified.” However, if they want a raise beyond the incremental increases in their first three years, they must complete additional training to move up the career ladder—becoming classified as a “senior” teacher or a “specialist” (pg. 139).

Crehan found that the top-performing school systems did all or most of the following:

They are selective about who enters their teacher training programmes; their teacher training programmes are hosted in respected institutions and last at least a year; they only confer teacher certification on those who both successfully pass these programmes and an induction period and they ensure teachers are mentored in their first few years and remain in close collaboration with experienced colleagues beyond that through weekly planning sessions. This means they can then give teachers autonomy to get on with their work (supported by further professional development), which makes the profession attractive, and allows the teacher training programmes to be selective (pg. 251).

Conclusion

Cleverlands provides a valuable resource for those interested in improving the education system in the West. It highlights areas where current assumptions should be dismantled—such as underlying beliefs about intelligence, the praise of diversity, and progressive pedagogical techniques like inquiry-based learning—as well as ideas that could be implemented for improvement: fostering growth mindset, strengthening group dynamics (amae), expanding vocational education, enhancing early childhood education, and refining teacher selection and training.

At the end of the book, Crehan reminds readers that the education systems of Finland, Singapore, Japan, and Shanghai—like Rome—were not built in a day. In Japan, it took decades to convince parents to send their children to school; Finland’s teacher training programs and culture of literacy developed over generations; Singapore went from facing a teacher shortage in the 1980s to establishing a highly successful teacher training and development program. One must remember that cultures can shift over time with the right application of pressure.

Notes

[1] Nicholas Wade, A Troublesome Inheritance, 244-245.

[2] Kathryn Paige Harden, The Genetic Lottery: Why DNA Matters for Social Equality (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2021), 220-221.

[3] Charles Murray, Human Diversity: The Biology of Gender, Race, and Class (New York: Twelve, 2020), 317.

[4] Daniel Buck, What is Wrong With Our Schools? (Clearwater, FL: John Catt Educational Ltd, 2022), 63.

[5] Lisa Delpit, Other People’s Children: Cultural Conflict in the Classroom (New York, NY: The New Press, 2006), 34.

[6] Ibid., 35-37.

[7] Robert D. Putnam, “E Pluribus Unum: Diversity and Community in the Twenty-first Century,” Journal of Scandinavian Political Studies 30, no. 2, (2007): 137-174, doi: 10.1111/j.1467-9477.2007.00176.x.

[8] Kerry Bolton, The Perversion of Normality: From Marquis de Sade to Cyborgs (London: Arktos, 2021), 460. See also: Peter Thirsted Dinesen et al. “Ethnic Diversity and Social Trust: A Narrative Meta-Analytical Review,” Annual Review of Political Science 23 (2020): 441-465, doi: 10.1146/annurev-polisci-052918-020708.

[9] John Taylor Gatto, Dumbing Us Down: The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling, 25^th anniversary ed. (Gabriola Island, BC: New Society Publishers, 2017), 76.

[10] National Center for Education Statistics, PISA 2022 U.S. Results, U.S. Department of Education, 2025. https://nces.ed.gov/surveys/pisa/pisa2022/#/

[11] Diane Ravitch, The Death and Life of the Great American School System (New York, NY: Basic Books, 2010), 105.

[12] John Taylor Gatto, Weapons of Mass Instruction (Gabriola Island, BC: New Society Publishers, 2010), xiii.

[13] Buck, 194-195.

[14] Henry T. Edmondson III, John Dewey & The Decline of American Education: How the Patron Saint of Schools Has Corrupted Teaching and Learning (Wilmington, DE: ISI Books, 2006), 45.

[15] Buck, 90.

[16] Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emile: Or on Education, trans. Allan Bloom (Basic Books, 1979), 63.

[17] In Japan and Canada children begin formal schooling at age six.

[18] Amy Chua, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2011), 29.

[19] Friedrich Nietzsche, Anti-Education, trans. Damion Searls, ed. Paul Reitter and Chad Wellmon, (New York: New York Review Books, 2015), 40.

[20] American teachers have the longest amount of class time with students at 26.8 hours per week. Japanese teachers average 17.7 hours per week, which is around three-and-a-half hours per day. That is partially because Japanese schools have larger classes (pg. 97).