"Memory is the enemy of wonder."

“Memory is the enemy of wonder,” wrote Michael Pollan. We lean on memory because it’s efficient. When we’ve done something before, we know what works, or at least what worked once. This instinct helps us survive, avoid danger, and function. But it can also trap us in old ways of thinking, especially when what we’re doing no longer works.

Take education. Ask a child who’s never been in a classroom to imagine one, and they might describe something wildly different: maybe students sit in a circle under a tree, or maybe they learn by doing, exploring, building things. Maybe the space is full of movement, not silence. Their ideas won’t be based on past experience they’ll be rooted in curiosity and imagination.

Now ask a sixth grader to draw a classroom. Most will sketch what they know: desks in rows, a board at the front, maybe posters on the walls. Even if they’ve had complaints about the system, they recreate it. That’s the power and the limitation of memory. We copy what we’ve seen, even when it no longer fits the world we’re in.

This habit affects adults too. When faced with a problem, we look to precedent. “How have we solved this before?” seems like a good starting point. But what if the problem has changed? Or what if the old solution was never that great to begin with?

Education is a perfect example of where wonder is urgently needed. School was built in an industrial age for industrial needs uniformity, compliance, predictability. But the world is different now. It moves faster, demands adaptability, and rewards creativity. If we want education to keep up, we have to stop tweaking the old system and start reimagining it entirely.

What could that look like?

Imagine schools where age isn’t the main way students are grouped. Instead, kids move based on interest or level of mastery. A 10-year-old passionate about robotics could work alongside a 13-year-old on a real-world project, not sit through a standard science lesson. Or picture a classroom where the “teacher” isn’t the only source of knowledge students could learn through community mentors, collaborative projects, or digital platforms, with adults acting as guides rather than lecturers.

Why not turn school into a studio model where learning is hands-on and interdisciplinary? A project on building a community garden could cover science (plants, soil, ecology), math (measuring, budgeting), language arts (writing proposals, reflecting), and social studies (local policies, food access). It’s messier than traditional lessons, but much closer to how the real world works.

The challenge is not that we don’t know education needs to change it’s that we keep starting from what already exists. But true reform doesn’t begin with small fixes. It begins with wonder. It begins with asking, “What if we started from scratch?”

Memory has its place. But knowing when to let go of it and when to make space for wonder is what moves us forward.