He smiled, but his voice was faint. In his hand, he held a paper of success; in his heart, a question no one ever answered:
“I’m smart… but in what?”
They gave him the perfect grade, but never gave him the chance to search for himself. He excelled in every subject—except in discovering his passion. He was first in his class, yet last in the order of decision.
We have reduced education to numbers. We raised a generation skilled in tests, but unskilled in testing life. A generation that sees its future the way it sees an answer sheet: ready-made options, with no explanation. A generation more afraid of making mistakes… than eager to find the truth.
He is told: “Medicine is best.” So he goes—not because he loves it, but because he fears being wrong. He hears: “Engineering is secure.” He surrenders his mind and jumps, only for passion to freeze when the major begins.
In Kuwait, millions are spent on scholarships and university programs, yet many students return after a year or two, stuck in fields that neither fit them… nor their country. Some redirect. Some graduate reluctantly, as though the degree were a temporary prison, stepping into the labor market voiceless… passionless… projectless.
A Cambridge University study revealed that 41% of undergraduates change their major within the first two years. The reason? Not ignorance, but a profound absence of guidance—an education that teaches the exam, but never teaches the question: Who am I? Homes that celebrate grades, but never converse with passions. Societies that applaud medicine and engineering—even if dreams die along the way.
How many students excelled at everything—except being themselves? How many graduates bear no resemblance to their field, and lack the courage to begin anew? Are we really teaching them how to choose—or are we running them through a production line with no questions asked?
We do not need just a new curriculum. We need a new philosophy of education. Let us propose a symbolic subject called simply: “Me.”
Not a book. Not an exam. A space of discovery—where the student trains to ask before answering, where the ear learns to listen to passion, not just to social pressure. A subject with no grades—yet it grants the highest distinction: self-knowledge. A course where the student meets professionals, stumbles while simulating reality, and sits in interviews with themselves before facing an employer.
Because a decision is not a number we select—it is a destiny we bear. A certificate must not be a paper we hang, but a mirror we face.
So do not ask the graduate: “What’s your GPA?” Ask instead: “Who are you? Why did you choose this path?” And if they do not know the answer, then it is not they who are lost… it is we who have lost them.
