The Death of Creativity and Critical Thought in an Exam-Obsessed Culture
In Sri Lanka, brilliance is measured in grades, not ideas. From the first day of school, students are thrust into a system that prizes obedience over curiosity, silence over expression, and memorization over exploration. To many, a “good student” is not the one who asks insightful questions, challenges the norm, or dares to think differently, it’s the one who sits quietly, writes neatly, and scores well on exams. But beneath the veneer of discipline and academic success lies a system that’s quietly killing the very essence of what education should nurture: the ability to think critically, creatively, and independently.
The Cult of the Exam
From Grade 1 to A/Ls, education in Sri Lanka is treated like a conveyor belt. The curriculum is rigid. Students are herded through years of syllabi with little room for deviation. At every turn, there’s a test. A competition. A ranking. The obsession with exams isn’t just systemic, it’s cultural. You’re not studying to understand; you’re studying to pass. You’re not learning because you’re curious, you’re learning because your family, your school, and your entire sense of worth depend on the numbers at the top of your report card. A child might ask, “Why does the sun set?” But unless that question is listed in a past paper, the answer doesn’t matter.
Creativity? That’s for After the Paper Marking
In classrooms across the country, creativity is often viewed as a threat to order. Students who daydream are labeled lazy. Children who question the teacher are “talking back.” If you color outside the lines, you’re a disturbance. If you write an answer that’s technically correct but not from the marking scheme, you’re wrong. This kind of thinking doesn’t end in the classroom. It breeds a generation of adults afraid to take risks, voice new ideas, or even express emotion. It’s no coincidence that many Sri Lankan youths, despite being deeply intelligent and talented, struggle with decision-making and self-expression once they leave school. After all, they’ve been trained not to think, only to repeat.
Let’s not forget the tuition class industrial complex, a beast of its own. Thousands of students cram into lecture halls, scribbling down model answers as tutors bark out exam tricks like auctioneers
Teachers as Enforcers, Not Mentors
Many teachers, overworked and underpaid, are stuck in survival mode. They teach to the exam because that’s how their performance is judged. There’s no space for philosophical detours or creative exploration when your job depends on how many A’s your class produces. Worse, the power dynamics in classrooms often mirror authoritarian rule. A teacher’s word is law. Disagreeing isn’t just discouraged, it’s punished.
You’re not taught how to argue with logic or empathy; you’re taught that disagreement equals disrespect. In this model, the teacher is never wrong. The student is never right. And everyone loses.
Parents and the Pressure Cooker
Sri Lankan parents are often well-meaning but complicit. Education is seen as the ticket out of poverty, the key to social mobility, the thing they sacrificed everything for. So naturally, they want their children to excel. But in that pressure to “succeed,” creativity gets squeezed out. Art, music, drama, or even writing is seen as distractions, hobbies, not careers. Even reading books outside the syllabus is considered a waste of time in some homes. A child who spends hours writing short stories will be told to “go study.” A teenager interested in starting a podcast will be told to focus on their tuition classes. Passion is treated like a phase. Thinking differently is treated like rebellion.
Sri Lankan parents are often well-meaning but complicit. Education is seen as the ticket out of poverty, the key to social mobility, the thing they sacrificed everything for. So naturally, they want their children to excel
Tuition Factories and the Death of Dialogue
Let’s not forget the tuition class industrial complex, a beast of its own. Thousands of students cram into lecture halls, scribbling down model answers as tutors bark out exam tricks like auctioneers. There’s no time to ask “why,” only “how to get the full mark.” In this high-speed, high-pressure environment, education is not about enlightenment. It’s about survival. And let’s face it, critical thinking has no place in a three-hour crash course where students are fed rote answers to regurgitate under exam conditions.
The Irony? The World Doesn’t Want Obedient Kids Anymore
Here’s the kicker. The 21st-century world doesn’t reward obedience, it rewards originality. Employers want innovators, not imitators. Society needs problem-solvers, not paper scorers. Global challenges, from climate change to AI ethics, demand imaginative, agile thinkers, not factory-minted students. But we’re raising children to follow, not to lead. We’re producing a generation with gold medals and empty minds. By the time they graduate, many are emotionally exhausted, intellectually disengaged, and unsure of their own voice.
So, What’s the Alternative?
Changing the entire education system is a mountain-sized task. But we can start climbing:
- Encourage Questions: Parents and teachers need to make curiosity a habit, not a nuisance. If a child asks “why,” don’t shut them down, explore it with them.
- Reward Thinking, Not Just Scores: Celebrate originality. Praise effort. Value the process, not just the result.
- Make Space for the Arts: Art isn’t optional. It’s essential for developing empathy, imagination, and emotional intelligence. Stop treating it like a side dish.
- Train Teachers Differently: Future educators should be trained in facilitation, not dictatorship. They should be mentors, not enforcers.
- Ditch the Fear of Failure: Redefine failure as feedback. Teach students that mistakes are part of learning, not a reason for shame.
If we keep raising kids to obey, they’ll grow up to be adults who follow instructions but never question injustice. They’ll show up on time but never change the system. They’ll get the job done but never dream of doing more. Sri Lanka has no shortage of intelligence. What we lack is the courage to rethink what it means to be educated. Until we shift from obedience to inquiry, from memorization to meaning, we’ll keep producing brilliant students who have no idea how to live outside an exam hall. Let’s raise a generation that knows how to ask “why” and dares to find their own answers.
