What is the Purpose of a Curriculum (and What It Is Not)

License Creative Commons

Giovanni Pelegi Torres

In Gargantua and Pantagruel, the French humanist François Rabelais envisioned a temple of wisdom: the Abbey of Thélème. This vast complex was designed with everything necessary for learning all disciplines, featuring extensive libraries and devoid of clocks, standing in stark contrast to the dogmatism and regulations of medieval monasteries. At Thélème, a single rule graced the entrance: “Do what you will,” symbolising the ideal of free will in a humanistic education characterised by a genuine pleasure in learning.

Imagining this phrase inscribed at the entrance of our schools might evoke laughter, panic, or perhaps a combination of both. Thus, Rabelais’ work serves as a conscious utopia rather than a realistic model to emulate. While this may seem obvious, the clarity diminishes upon examining the current educational curriculum in Catalonia, which adheres to the LOMLOE legislation rather literally. The curriculum and its implementation fail to specify which concrete content should be taught or in which year. Instead, it presents “knowledge,” a euphemism for content, in a repetitive and vague manner, organised into blocks as if they were colour-coded.

Experienced teachers, along with institutional programming and practices shaped by sound judgment—the underlying consensus—tend to maintain existing content despite a curriculum that promotes a “do what you will” ethos akin to that of the Abbey of Thélème, though this is entirely misunderstood. As Javier Mestre and Carlos Fernández Liria assert in Escuela y libertad (Akal, 2024), nothing is more opposed to disinterested knowledge than competency-based education, which posits that if something lacks practical utility, it is deemed worthless—an idea that significantly negatively impacts students.

The progressive rhetoric surrounding the supposed freedom and autonomy of teachers in the current curriculum is, in reality, a trap. Firstly, the curriculum engenders a sense of vulnerability and insecurity; a significant portion of the teaching staff finds it incomprehensible and utilises it as best they can. This leads to feelings of emptiness when drafting our programming and when instructed to globalise or engage in similar practices that cause us to question our judgment. We begin to feel that the system does not trust us or our teaching methods, prompting some to despair, realising that the system effectively does not want us to teach or for certain students to learn.

Secondly, the hyper-adjectivisation of knowledge implies that we should be training eco-conscious students rather than teaching subjects like mathematics or history. While cultivating such awareness can be a beneficial by-product of learning, it should not be an end in itself. This empty progressive rhetoric in public education aims to convince us of a fortuitous encounter with knowledge through practice and “values.” And who bears the cost? As always, it is the most disadvantaged students in the most challenging neighbourhoods. Simultaneously, it demotivates the teacher who feels as though they have lost their way.

An effective curriculum should provide educators with a clear guide to accessible content, outlining the timeline for instruction across terms and the academic year. It should contextualise knowledge or content in tangible and essential terms that promote an education aimed at forming well-rounded individuals, not merely the precariat of digital techno-capitalism. It is only reasonable to expect a useful tool in this regard. There should be minimum standards that guide us with order and perspective, simplifying our work. Otherwise, we encounter a situation that Rabelais warned against in Pantagruel as early as the 16th century: “Science without conscience is the ruin of the soul.” Or of public education…

The most astonishing aspect is that the curriculum is worse for being impractical (the irony of life) than for being incomprehensible. I know a teacher at a school where they are required to assess students based on competencies “in earnest.” She must consider approximately 36 indicators (9 competencies multiplied by 4 indicators each) for every activity and determine which of these four, five, or six align with her assessment goals. She returns home exhausted, having devoted her energy to matters unrelated to enhancing her teaching methods or deepening her knowledge of her subject.

Under the guise of creating a Thélème, they have designed a scholastic monastery governed by the principle of competency authority. From the utopia of Thélème, we should appreciate the beauty and uniqueness of approaching knowledge disinterestedly, in stark contrast to neoliberal practicality.

Source: educational EVIDENCE

Rights: Creative Commons