The “no harm done” school: when avoiding discomfort prevents learning

The potential negative consequences of our actions—and our inaction—are a powerful source of both motivation and learning. / Photo: created by AI

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Paco Benítez

Recently, in a Year 10 English lesson, while we were working on spoken interaction around the theme of “Staying healthy” (or a “learning situation”, if one prefers the jargon), I had an exchange with a pupil that neatly illustrates some of the problems facing education today. The interaction—conducted aloud with the whole class present—went as follows:

• Pupil: One thing that helps you stay healthy is drinking lots of water.
• Teacher (me): Exactly—good point. For instance, because of a minor health issue, I have to drink quite a lot of water every day—at least three litres.
• Pupil: Three litres? Why so much?
• Teacher: Well, in the past three years I’ve had two operations for kidney stones, and drinking that much helps prevent them forming.
• Pupil: I couldn’t even drink two litres a day. That would be impossible.
• Teacher: It’s not easy, I know. But if you’d ever experienced the pain of a kidney stone, you’d probably do whatever it took—even when you don’t feel like it—to drink as much water as you could.

That brief classroom moment stayed with me on the way home. It made me realise just how powerful the fear of another kidney stone attack (anyone who has experienced one will understand) is as a motivator. It is what drives me to drink water consistently every day—and to cut down drastically on salt. At home, I often walk past the kitchen, see the glass of water by the bottle, and the memory of the pain—and of two lithotripsy procedures—kicks in almost automatically. Before I know it, I’ve drunk two glasses, often against my own inclination.

And, inevitably, as a teacher who has watched what happens when pupils are promoted automatically—whether by regulation or by staff decision, even with four or five failed subjects—or when standards are lowered so that more pupils pass regardless of effort, one begins to ask: does this help learning, or does it undermine it?

In Spain—as in much of the Western world—over the past fifteen years pass rates and completion rates have risen, while at the same time standards in mathematics and reading have declined (OECD, 2023), along with measured IQ since the early 2000s (Bratsberg & Rogeberg, 2018). In short, the outcomes look better on paper, but they do not correspond to actual learning or cognitive development.

This is something I can observe directly as a teacher. When a pupil knows that, whatever they do—or indeed, even if they do nothing—they will be promoted, their level of effort declines. When a pupil knows that they can fail three or more subjects (the highest number I have personally seen within a teaching team has been five) and still be awarded a qualification, because they have seen it happen to pupils in higher year groups, it becomes practically impossible for their effort and the time they devote to their studies not to suffer. And let me be clear: I am not blaming the pupils for this, because at the end of the day they are adolescents, and at their age I would probably have behaved in much the same way. But this situation inevitably affects their learning, which is seriously undermined. Pupils make less effort and, as a result, learn less when they are not required to meet demands and their grades are inflated; there is evidence of this both in primary and secondary education (Figlio & Lucas, 2004; Gershenson et al., 2024). In addition, a study carried out in 2010 by the economist Philip Babcock on university students shows that when students perceive that a subject is marked more strictly, they devote more time to studying it (Babcock, 2010). Likewise, when pupils are promoted and/or awarded qualifications regardless of the knowledge and skills they have actually acquired, the system papers over gaps and potential learning difficulties that ought to be addressed with the necessary resources. In other words, although this approach is presented as positive and compassionate by the dominant pedagogical discourse (and by the educational authorities, which thereby save considerable sums of money), it is in reality harmful to the most vulnerable pupils. And that is a discussion for another day: how grade inflation—and the resulting rise in university entry thresholds—drives disproportionate levels of stress and anxiety among sixth-form students, and how the failure to enforce appropriate sanctions for serious or repeated behaviour that undermines students’ wellbeing and learning further erodes the climate in schools.

Pupils are young, but they are not foolish, and they can see that these dynamics are unfair. They see how classmates who make no effort, who are frequently absent, and even those who disrupt lessons and prevent them from learning in a proper environment, face no negative consequences. They see how apathy and a lack of responsibility are not an obstacle to achieving their goals. What a powerful lesson this sends—precisely from the institution that ought to ensure not only academic learning, but learning for life. Some years ago, Gregorio Luri wrote an excellent book entitled La escuela contra el mundo. And indeed, the school continues to run counter to the way the world actually works. Not being responsible at work has professional and personal consequences. Not taking care of one’s health, and not making sacrifices for it, does as well.

Many seem unwilling to recognise that when academic qualifications are devalued, it is the market that steps in to provide alternative credentials, and in that case it is students from more modest socio-economic backgrounds who are most adversely affected. There is a paradigmatic example that clearly shows where this path leads. In Catalonia, a C1 level of Catalan is awarded to students who complete compulsory secondary education having passed the subject of Catalan Language and Literature. When I finished school, that level was awarded to those who passed upper secondary education, which is, moreover, another objective and indisputable indication that standards have been lowered. This has led to a situation in which nobody believes that the C1 level is worth much, because, despite the “wonderful statistics” on promotion and graduation, society appears to distrust that the compulsory secondary education certificate guarantees any real level, as it does not ensure a shared understanding of language proficiency (I have already explained that I have seen pupils pass a previously failed Catalan course by completing a four-page double-sided booklet of activities that they could do at home). For this reason, some bodies—including, paradoxically and rather absurdly, the Catalan Government itself—now require a C2 level in order to enter the public teaching profession. This is further proof that lowering standards leads to the erosion of the public system by undermining its capacity to provide social justice, since students are now forced to turn to the market: enrolling in courses to prepare for and obtain the C2 level, which come at a cost. A market that effectively replaces the abdication of responsibility by the public administration. In other words, the Department of Education itself does not trust its own regulations to demonstrate the value of the qualifications it awards.

We need to encourage our pupils to go beyond what they are already capable of doing, with all the support that may be necessary (and which is often in short supply). The problem is that, at present, access to the curriculum is interpreted as ensuring that pupils pass and are promoted, regardless of whether—and even if—they have actually learned or overcome their difficulties.

Teachers are often required to put adjustments in place that do not facilitate students’ learning, but rather make it easier for them to pass. In other words, they are a sham (although by the time many families realise this, it is often too late). Current education policy promotes an approach to inclusion that focuses on removing the difficulties pupils face, rather than helping them to overcome them; difficulties which, moreover, in many cases could be overcome with effort (their own, and that of the education authorities, by providing all the necessary resources). Teachers end up making adjustments to protect themselves from the authorities, but in many cases not to help pupils make progress. Yet it has become the norm within the profession that such adjustments—regardless of whether they help, are ineffective, or even harmful—must be carried out so that the authorities do not claim that “the blame for failure lies with the teacher”. We comply with it for bureaucratic reasons, despite the inconsistency. Not challenging pupils has negative consequences for their learning. The education system should provide the resources needed to address learning difficulties—not conceal them, nor celebrate their concealment as a success. Equity in education requires investment, not faith in supposedly all-encompassing solutions such as UDL (Universal Design for Learning). The best interests of the child must come first. Research is clear: lowering instructional standards damages learning, with cumulative effects over time (Shanahan, 2025).

Young people need to be pushed—to be challenged—while being properly supported. Shielding them from effort does them no favours. Teachers are the adults in the classroom, and we must act accordingly, helping pupils to take responsibility for what they do—and for what they fail to do.

An education system that demands nothing, that deprives pupils of the chance to learn from the consequences of their actions, also deprives them of a crucial source of motivation—and leaves them ill-prepared for life. Overprotecting pupils, lowering expectations, and excusing poor behaviour or academic inaction—especially when this is done with disadvantaged students in the name of equity—is, in fact, deeply regressive. Keeping in mind the possible negative consequences at school, combined with all the support, empathy and positive reinforcement that may be necessary, will enable pupils to achieve higher academic goals, even those they initially thought were impossible to reach.

References:

Babcock, P. (2010). Real costs of nominal grade inflation? New evidence from student course evaluations. Economic Inquiry, 48, 983-996.

Bratsberg, B. & Rogeberg, O. (2018). Flynn effect and its reversal are both environmentally caused. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 115(26), 6674-6678.

Figlio, D. & Lucas, M.E. (2004). The Gentleman’s A: New evidence on the effects of grade inflation. Education Next, 4(2),

Gershenson, S., Holt, S.B. & Tyner, A. (2024) Making the grade: the effect of teacher grading standards on student outcomes. Contemporary Economic Policy, 42(2), 305–318.

OCDE. (2023). PISA 2022 Results (Volume I): The State of Learning and Equity in Education. OECD Publishing. https://doi.org/10.1787/53f23832-en

Shanahan, T. (2025). Leveled reading, leveled lives. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press.

Source: educational EVIDENCE

Rights: Creative Commons