The Tyranny of “I Can”

The morning begins enthuastically. Sunlight flows through classroom windows while childrens’ small plants are displayed showing how seeds grow into flowers. Egg cartons have been transformed into counting activities, inspired by Pinterest, the same platform mothers turn to for lunch box inspiration. Paintings hang beside carefully written learning objectives: “I can count from 1 to 20.” A teacher kneels beside a four year old in a calm, child centred,  Reggio inspired, nut free classroom.  “Good sitting,” she says warmly. Another child receives a sticker for listening carefully during circle time. A third is chosen to lead the line because he demonstrated “excellent focus.”

Nobody is shouting. Nobody is frightened. The atmosphere feels nurturing, positive.

Yet beneath the pastel walls and encouraging affirmations lies a deeper question modern society rarely pauses long enough to ask: what exactly are we preparing children for?

The South Korean German philosopher Byung-Chul Han argued that contemporary societies have shifted from what he described as the disciplinary society into the achievement society. Older systems operated through external control. Factories demanded obedience. Schools demanded silence. Authority was visible and direct. The language of that era was simple: you must.

Today, the language sounds very different. We are no longer told you must. We are told you can.

You can build a successful career. You can grasp hold off longevity. You can create an monetise your hobbies. Social media has transformed aspiration into a public performance. Achievement is no longer simply personal. It is visible, measurable and continuously displayed, much like today’s classroom exhibits.

The genius of the achievement society is that it rarely feels oppressive. Pressure now arrives disguised as empowerment.

Nobody is standing over the modern individual with punishment or force. Instead, people increasingly pressure themselves by creating an internal draconian voice. The expectation to improve and achieve has become internalised.

Dubai reflects this global culture of ambition particularly well. The city celebrates innovation, growth and possibility. Everywhere there are symbols of upward movement and transformation. Productivity podcasts. Entrepreneurs discuss mindset over coffee. Parents balance careers, fitness routines and highly involved parenting schedules. Professional success and self improvement exist side by side. Ambition has become woven into the zeitgeist.

Increasingly, this same logic appears to be filtering downward into childhood itself.

Walk into many contemporary early childhood classrooms and one phrase appears almost everywhere: I can.

I can identify shapes.

I can share with my friends.

The wording appears harmless and, in many ways, empowering. Modern education has rightly moved away from fear based discipline and authoritarian practices. Positive reinforcement is generally healthier than humiliation or intimidation.

Yet Han’s work invites a more uncomfortable observation. The modern classroom may not have escaped behavioural control entirely. It may simply have updated its operating system.

The old classroom relied heavily on punishment. The contemporary classroom often operates through affirmation, encouragement, emotional self regulation and systems of recognition. Sticker charts replace detentions. House points replace fear. Emotional regulation becomes another skill children are expected to master and display successfully.

Even very young children increasingly exist inside miniature systems of optimisation.

The child who sits “nicely” receives symbolic rewards. The child who concentrates earns leadership opportunities. Behaviour is not simply corrected. It is incentivised. Achievement becomes visible, celebrated and continuously reinforced.

Perhaps the most striking feature of the achievement society is how deeply it shapes identity itself. Children no longer simply learn literacy or numeracy. Increasingly, they absorb the idea that the self is an ongoing project requiring continuous improvement.

In highly ambitious societies, this pressure can begin remarkably early. Childhood schedules sometimes resemble executive calendars. Swimming lessons. Rugby practice. Jiu jitsu. Stimulating travel. Early literacy programmes. Parents often speak sincerely about wanting to provide every possible opportunity for their children, while quietly fearing the consequences of falling behind.

The achievement society does not only shape adults. It reshapes parenting, teaching and childhood expectations themselves. Teachers simultaneously navigate academic goals, technology integration, outdoor learning, cultural identity and child centred pedagogy. Modern education asks teachers to achieve balance in every direction at once.

The irony is that contemporary achievement culture rarely appears harsh on the surface. It appears colourful, supportive and holistic. It arrives through encouragement rather than intimidation. Through affirmation rather than punishment. Through the language of confidence and growth.

Which is precisely why it can be so difficult to recognise.

Perhaps the challenge facing modern education is not whether children should achieve. Of course they should. The deeper question is whether childhood still contains enough space for slowness, boredom, imagination and simply being.

In a world increasingly shaped by algorithms, performance and visibility, that may become one of the most important educational questions of all.

By Samantha Smit