What Education Can't Measure

What Education Can't Measure

I've taught in quite a few different classrooms over the years. From pre-vocational education and vocational colleges to art academies and university master's programmes, both in the Netherlands and internationally.

And one thing I've learned is that I don't particularly like talking about educational levels. Of course, they exist. They serve a purpose. And naturally, I approach a master's class differently from a group of younger vocational students. The terminology changes. The theory might go deeper. I can expect a different level of prior knowledge in design, typography, concept development or branding.

But the way I look at the person sitting in front of me?

That doesn't change.

Because I've met extraordinarily talented students who struggled to communicate with the person sitting next to them. And I've met students without an impressive academic background who had an almost instinctive understanding of people, ideas and the world around them.

You can be visually gifted, technically brilliant and have the emotional intelligence of a kitchen grill.
A degree doesn't necessarily tell you much about that. And neither does a school level.

I think we sometimes confuse educational achievement with human potential. We measure what students know, how well they perform and whether they meet the requirements of a curriculum. All important things, obviously.

But what about curiosity? Social intelligence? Empathy? The ability to connect ideas, understand people or recognise an opportunity nobody else has noticed? Those qualities aren't always easy to put into a grading system. And yet, in the creative industry, they can make an enormous difference.

I remember walking into an mbo classroom with a curriculum lesson I was supposed to teach. But I felt the group needed something else. So I changed direction. Instead of following the planned lesson, I gave an impromptu masterclass on typography. Nothing particularly exotic. Just the fundamentals. The principles that shape how we read, interpret and experience visual communication.

And the room came alive.

The students were genuinely surprised by things they hadn't encountered before. Suddenly, something that might have seemed like another technical subject became interesting, tangible and, perhaps most importantly, fun. That moment stayed with me.

Not because I had delivered some extraordinary lesson, but because it reminded me how easily we can assume students already know something simply because it's supposed to be part of their education. Sometimes you don't need to make the subject more complicated. That's something I also use in my personal branding courses and masterclasses.

I spend a lot of time trying to understand the person behind the student, entrepreneur and founder. Their interests, their experiences, what excites them and what might be keeping them at a distance.

Over the years, I've become fairly good at reading people. Not because I can figure someone out completely in five minutes, but because I've learned to pay attention. And once I understand a little more about someone's world, I can connect the subject to something that actually means something to them.

That might involve changing my language, using an unexpected example or asking a question that takes the conversation somewhere entirely different.

I don't necessarily change what I teach. I change how I make it accessible.

And accessible doesn't mean easy. It means removing the unnecessary distance between someone and the knowledge you're trying to share. Ultimately, I want students to discover what they can contribute to the creative industry without losing themselves in the process. Not just how to become better designers, but how to recognise their own qualities, develop their perspective and understand the value they bring as human beings. Because the industry doesn't only need people who know how to make beautiful things.

It needs people who understand why they're making them, who they're making them for and how to work with the people around them. And that's something I believe applies whether you're sixteen and just discovering design or completing a master's degree at a renowned institution.

Different classrooms. Different backgrounds. But the same curiosity about the person sitting in front of me.

Perhaps education shouldn't only be about measuring what students have learned.

Perhaps it should also be about discovering what we haven't yet recognised in them.