The kindergarten teacher complains about the child's family because they don't pay attention.

The first grade teacher blames the kindergarten teacher for the child's lack of skill in using scissors.

The third grade teacher complains about her colleagues in lower grades because the child is moderately literate.
The first year high school teacher doesn't understand how the sixth grade teacher let him get away with so many spelling mistakes.

The sixth year high school teacher looks down on his fourth grade peer because the child doesn't distinguish between science fiction and fantasy.

The first year university professor murmurs about the inefficiency of all the high school teachers who didn't teach the child how to interpret when he reads.

The third year university professor complains about the university teaching staff that preceded him because the child doesn't understand the basic concepts of the degree.

The professional who hires the newly graduated child rages against the University that awarded him the diploma without having prepared him sufficiently.

This is what usually happens in the corridors of education. People are looking for the guilty. And the thread is usually cut, as we know, at the weakest point.
There are no guilty ones, there are those responsible.

But in no way are they the teachers, subjects battered by both political discourse and economic recognition, not to mention by journalism that generates in the public opinion of television viewers a trace of distrust between the family and education.

Where is the responsible party? In the subject who must learn or in the society that demands that he know? From the 18th century we inherited the idea that education is a tool for individual and, ergo, social progress.

It is a paradigm that, evidently, is taking on water from all sides and we all look at the shipwreck and run to the Titanic with band-aids and gauze: the disproportion is sad.

We should not be surprised that in 20 or 50 years schools as we know them will disappear. School for what? To put 300/400 children inside and stop them from wandering around the streets? So that mom and dad can work and bring home the bread? So that children can meet other children and socialize as if the function of the school were a sports club?

Irrevocably everything that is born dies. And just as mass school was born and had its heyday, it can disappear in the same way. Simply because no one is really interested in school. Do they teach how to buy cars and drive them at school? No. Do they teach how to save? Neither. Does school teach the importance of having lots of virtual friends? No. And having the television on all day? No. The school became outdated because it pursues, like Quixote, worlds that do not exist except within itself: knowledge is endogamous because it was reduced to that.

The society of the 20th century and, fundamentally, that of this already advanced 21st century no longer trusts at all in the enlightened Reason, nor in reason alone. So how can it trust and value the son if it no longer values ​​the father? That is to say: if the world no longer moves - something quite evident - in the orbit of reason, how can we expect it to value the school as a corollary.

We are watching the agony of a paradigm and we are in the delivery room of Mother History: the new gnoseological paradigm will inevitably be born, it is only waiting for Mother History to push harder.

Obviously knowledge will not die, but the school will. That majestic Titanic that has been sailing through space for more than two centuries. Let us not look on in dismay, as if it were an impossible thing. Everything has an end, everything ends. And the rational paradigm that made the existence of the school possible is dying.

Let us wait. What will come in its place. We do not know. Many of us still have the capacity for wonder. That is the husband of History. Let us trust that this marriage will illuminate the times to come.