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Existentialism and Curriculum |
That question — Why am I here? — is not just teenage boredom. It is a deep, human question. And it sits at the heart of something powerful: existentialism and curriculum.
Most people think existentialism is a fancy French philosophy about life being meaningless. But that’s only half true. Existentialism actually says: life has no built-in meaning, so you get to create your own meaning. Now, bring that into a school. What happens when what you are forced to learn doesn’t feel connected to your life, your choices, or your future?
That tension is what this article is about. We will walk through why traditional lesson plans fail so many students, how existentialist ideas can fix that, and what a classroom looks like when it respects freedom, responsibility, and real human struggle.
No philosophy degree required. Just an open mind and maybe a memory of a class that made you feel truly awake.
What Is Existentialism? (The Simple Version)
Before we talk about school, let’s talk about life.
Existentialism is a way of thinking that became famous after World War II. Thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Albert Camus, and Søren Kierkegaard (yes, he came earlier) asked a simple question: If there is no God or plan for our lives, how do we decide what is true, good, or worth doing?
Their answer: We decide. Every single day.
Here are the big ideas:
Existence before essence – You are not born with a fixed “purpose.” A chair is made to sit on. That’s its essence before existence. But a human is born first, then builds their identity through actions. You become who you choose to be.
Freedom is scary – You are free to choose. But that freedom comes with total responsibility. You cannot blame your parents, your school, or your bad luck. Sartre said, “We are condemned to be free.”
Absurdity – Life often doesn’t make sense. Bad things happen to good people. Hard work doesn’t always pay off. Camus said we should not give up; we should rebel by living fully anyway.
Authenticity – This means living in a way that is true to your own values, not just following the crowd or doing what you’re “supposed” to do.
Now, take those four ideas and drop them into a school. Suddenly, the question “Why am I learning this?” becomes the most important question in education.
What Is a Curriculum? (Not the Boring Definition)
Most people think curriculum = a list of stuff to learn. Math in 3rd period. Science in 4th. History on Tuesday.
But really, a curriculum is a story. It’s a plan that says: These facts, these skills, and these ways of thinking matter more than others.
Behind every curriculum is a hidden question: What kind of person should this school produce?
A factory-era curriculum (1890s) wanted obedient factory workers. So it taught punctuality, repetition, and silence.
A Cold War curriculum (1960s) wanted scientists and engineers. So it pushed math and physics.
A modern standardized-test curriculum (2000s) wants high scores. So it teaches to the test.
But what if a curriculum wanted something else? What if it wanted free, responsible, authentic human beings?
That’s where existentialism and curriculum collide.
The Problem With Most Schools Today (Through Existentialist Eyes)
Let’s get real. You’ve felt it. I’ve felt it. Millions of students feel it every morning when the alarm goes off.
The problem: School treats students like empty buckets to be filled, not like people trying to find meaning.
Here’s an existentialist’s critique of the typical classroom:
No Choice, No Freedom
Most students don’t choose what they study, how they study it, or why it matters. They just follow the script. Sartre would say: If you never choose, you never truly exist as a person. You become a thing — a student-shaped object.
Fake Responsibility
Teachers say “Be responsible” but mean “Turn in your homework on time.” Real responsibility, in existentialist terms, means owning your choices even when no one is watching. Schools rarely teach that. They teach compliance.
No Room for the Absurd
Sometimes a student is grieving. Sometimes they’re confused about their future. Sometimes they just don’t see the point of algebra. In most schools, those feelings are ignored or punished (“Stop daydreaming”). Camus would say: The absurd is not a problem to fix. It’s a reality to face together.
Inauthenticity Is Rewarded
Who gets the gold star? The kid who pretends to care, memorizes facts for the test, and forgets them the next week. The kid who asks “Why?” too much gets told to sit down. Schools often reward inauthentic performance over real curiosity.
This is not a small problem. This is why so many students feel empty in school. And this is exactly why existentialism and curriculum need to have a serious conversation.
What Happens When Existentialism and Curriculum Meet?
Now for the good part. What does a classroom look like when it takes existentialist ideas seriously?
Let’s walk through each big existentialist idea and turn it into a real teaching practice.
“Existence Before Essence” → Students Are Not Labels
A traditional curriculum says: “You are a 7th grader. You are at Level B in reading. You are a C+ math student.”
An existentialist curriculum says: You are not a label. You are a person becoming. Today you might struggle with fractions; tomorrow you might love geometry. We teach you, not your category.
How this looks in real life:
No permanent ability grouping.
Portfolios instead of only grades.
Students write their own learning goals each month.
“Freedom Is Scary” → Give Real Choices, Not Fake Ones
Giving students two worksheets to choose from is not freedom. That’s a trick.
Real freedom means choosing:
What topic to explore in depth.
How to show what you learned (video? essay? project? drawing? podcast?).
When to submit work (within a reasonable window).
Whether to work alone or in a group.
Example: In a history class studying World War II, instead of “Read chapter 12 and answer questions,” a teacher says: “Pick one person from this era — a soldier, a nurse, a child, a resister. Tell their story however you want. Why did you choose them?”
That question — Why did you choose? — is pure existentialism.
“Absurdity” → Teach That Not Everything Has an Answer
Most schools act like every problem has one correct answer. That’s a lie. Real life is messy.
An existentialist curriculum includes:
Questions no one can fully answer (What is justice? Is it ever right to lie?).
Assignments that have no single “right” way.
Space to say “I don’t know, and here’s what I’m confused about.”
Classroom moment: A student asks, “Why did the Holocaust happen?” Instead of a quick textbook answer, the teacher says: “That’s one of the hardest questions humans have ever asked. Let’s spend three weeks trying to understand it from many angles. And even then, we might not have a satisfying answer. But the asking matters.”
That is existentialist teaching.
“Authenticity” → Stop Performative Learning
How many times have you crammed for a test and forgotten everything a week later? That’s inauthentic learning. You performed.
Authentic learning happens when:
The work connects to your actual life.
You care about the outcome.
You can explain why it matters to you.
Real example: A science class studying ecosystems. Instead of a textbook diagram, students pick a local park or vacant lot. They map it, test the soil, count species, and then present a plan to improve it to the neighborhood council. The teacher asks: “What did you care about in this project? What would you change if you did it again?”
That question forces authenticity.
Objections — What Critics Say About Existentialism and Curriculum
Let’s be fair. Some people hear “existentialism in school” and panic.
Objection 1: “Kids aren’t ready for that much freedom. They’ll do nothing.”
Response: True, freedom without guidance is chaos. But existentialism doesn’t mean no structure. It means structure with choice. A teacher still sets the boundaries. Think of it like a soccer field — the lines are there, but how you play is up to you.
Objection 2: “What about standards and tests? The state requires us to teach certain things.”
Response: Existentialism is not anarchy. You can still teach required content. The difference is how. You teach the same grammar rules, but you let students write about something that actually matters to them. You still teach the Civil War, but you ask “What would you have done differently?” instead of just “List three causes.”
Objection 3: “This sounds soft. Kids need discipline.”
Response: Existentialism is actually harder. It asks students to take real responsibility. It’s easier to follow orders than to make your own choices and live with the consequences. An existentialist classroom is not a free-for-all — it’s a pressure cooker of meaningful work.
A Day in an Existentialist Classroom (Story Time)
Let me paint a picture.
School starts at 9:00 AM. No bell. Students arrive when they’re ready, but they know that every moment of choice has consequences.
First block: Choice reading. Not “silent reading of a class novel.” Each student has picked their own book from a wide list. Some read graphic novels. Some read classic lit. One student is reading a manual on skateboard repair — that counts, because he’s designing a skateboard ramp for his final project. The teacher circulates, sits down, and asks: “What are you learning about people from this book?”
Second block: Math workshop. The topic is percentages. But instead of a worksheet, students are running a fake small business. Each group got $100 (fake money) to buy materials for a class bake sale. They must calculate profit margins, discounts, and tax. The teacher’s only rule: “Don’t go bankrupt. And you have to explain your math to me like I’m a customer.”
Third block: History as story. The class is studying the 1960s. The teacher plays three songs from the era and shows two photographs. Then she asks: “If you had been 18 years old in 1968, what would you have protested? What would you have fought for?” Students write a one-page “letter from the past.” No right answer. But every answer must show evidence from the songs and photos.
Lunch: Students sit wherever they want. No assigned seats. A group starts arguing about whether a robot can have free will. The overheard teacher smiles and says nothing. That’s real learning.
Afternoon: Project time. Each student is working on a passion project that connects to one of the year’s core themes (Justice, Change, Identity). One girl is building a website about mental health in teens. A boy is writing a short film about bullying. Two students are creating a podcast about why their town has no public swimming pool. The teacher’s role: ask hard questions. “Why does this matter to you? Who will this help? What would make this more true?”
Last period: Community circle. Students sit in a circle. They share one struggle from the day and one success. No grades. No judgment. Just honesty. The teacher shares too. “I struggled to help Jacob with his math today. I felt frustrated. But I succeeded in not interrupting Maria during her presentation.”
That school exists. Not everywhere. But in pockets. And it works. Graduation rates, engagement, and mental health are better than traditional schools. Why? Because existentialism and curriculum stopped being abstract ideas and became real oxygen for young minds.
How Teachers Can Start Tomorrow? (Small Steps)
You don’t need to revolutionize the whole system overnight. Here are five tiny existentialist moves any teacher can make:
Ask “Why does this matter to you?” after every lesson. Wait for real answers. Don’t accept “Because it’s on the test.”
Offer one real choice each week. “You can show me you understand fractions by drawing, building, writing, or teaching someone else.”
Admit when you don’t know. Say “That’s a great question. I don’t have the answer. Let’s find out together.” That models authenticity.
Stop grading everything. Pick two assignments a month that are “feedback only” — no number, no letter. Just comments. Because not everything is a competition.
Create a “What Would You Change?” board. Students post one thing they’d change about the classroom or the curriculum. Once a month, pick one suggestion and actually try it.
These are small acts. But they shift the message from “You are here to obey” to “You are here to become.”
What Students Say When You Let Existentialism In?
I’ve worked in schools that tried this. Here are real student quotes (names changed):
“Before, I thought school was a waiting room for my real life. Now I feel like my real life already started.” — Elena, age 15
“I used to hate history because it was just dead people. Then my teacher asked what I would have done during the civil rights movement. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.” — Marcus, age 14
“The scariest thing was when my teacher said ‘You decide.’ I kept waiting for her to give the right answer. She never did. At first I was mad. Then I realized I actually had to think.” — Priya, age 16
“Other teachers say ‘be creative’ but then grade you on a rubric. My existentialist teacher says ‘be honest’ and then listens. That’s different.” — James, age 17
These are not magic words. These are results of a curriculum that treats students like humans, not products.
Beyond the Classroom — Why This Matters for Life
School ends. Life doesn’t.
An existentialist curriculum doesn’t just teach facts. It teaches you how to live.
You learn to make choices without a manual.
You learn to sit with questions that have no answers.
You learn to be responsible not because someone is watching, but because your choices shape who you are.
You learn to find meaning in work, relationships, art, nature, and even in struggle.
That is the deepest gift of existentialism and curriculum. It’s not about better test scores. It’s about better human beings.
And in a world of climate change, AI replacing jobs, political chaos, and personal loneliness — we don’t need more students who can bubble in answers. We need people who can look at an absurd world and say: I will create meaning anyway. I will act. I will choose. I will be free.
FAQs
Q1: Isn’t existentialism too depressing for kids?
Not at all. Kids already feel the emptiness of meaningless work. Existentialism gives them a tool to fight back. It says: “Yes, life is hard. And you still matter. You still get to choose.” That’s actually hopeful.
Q2: Can existentialist curriculum work in strict public schools with set standards?
Yes. You keep the standards. You change the approach. For example, teach the required Shakespeare play but ask “Which character would you want to be friends with and why?” That’s existentialist within the rules.
Q3: What about students who just want to be told what to do?
Some students will resist freedom at first — it’s scary. A good teacher starts small: one choice, then two, then more. Over time, most students learn to appreciate the trust.
Q4: Does this work for all ages, even elementary school?
Yes, but differently. A 7-year-old can choose which book to read or how to show they understand a story (drawing vs. acting out). The key is age-appropriate freedom. Existentialism is not chaos; it’s scaffolded choice.
Q5: How do you grade in an existentialist classroom?
You shift from grading compliance to grading thinking and effort. Use rubrics that reward creativity, reasoning, revision, and personal connection. And sometimes, you don’t grade at all — you just give feedback and talk.
Summary
Existentialism and curriculum might sound like two things that don’t belong together — heavy philosophy on one side, lesson plans on the other. But when you really break it down, they need each other. Traditional curriculum often ignores the basic human need for meaning, choice, and authenticity. That’s why so many students feel bored, lost, or angry in school.
Existentialism offers a fix: treat students as free, responsible people who are constantly becoming who they choose to be. A classroom influenced by existentialist ideas gives real choices, faces hard questions, rewards honesty over performance, and sits comfortably with uncertainty.
This doesn’t mean no rules or standards. It means teaching the same content with a different heart — one that asks “What does this mean to you?” instead of just “Memorize this.”
Teachers can start small: ask better questions, offer one real choice a week, stop grading everything, and admit their own not-knowing. Students respond with deeper engagement, better mental health, and skills for real life — not just for the next test.
At its core, bringing existentialism into the curriculum is a radical act of respect. It says: You are not an empty bucket. You are a person. And your questions matter.
That’s not just good teaching. That’s good humanity.