What’s a thing you wish schools actually taught?

For me, the answer is pretty straightforward.

Life.

Not all of it, obviously. I’m not expecting a fourteen-year-old to be taught how to navigate a midlife crisis, assemble flat-pack furniture without swearing, or explain to their children why Dad is hiding in the shed.

Although, actually, that last one might be quite useful.

But there are an awful lot of things I was taught at school that, despite having passed exams and presumably being considered important at the time, have rarely been useful to me since.

Pythagoras’ theorem springs to mind.

Now before all the mathematicians come charging at me with their calculators, I’m not saying mathematics isn’t important.

It absolutely is.

But I can’t remember the last time I stood in my garden, looked at two sides of a triangle and thought:

“Hang on a minute, I know exactly what to do here.”

Meanwhile, nobody thought it might be useful to teach me how to balance a household budget.

Or how tax actually works.

Or what all those frightening numbers and boxes on official forms mean.

Nobody sat me down and explained mortgages, interest rates, borrowing, credit scores, insurance or the simple financial reality that earning £2,000 doesn’t mean you’ve got £2,000 to spend.

Those are things most of us eventually have to learn.

Usually by making mistakes.

Sometimes expensive ones.

And then there’s the practical stuff.

How to put up a shelf without it falling off the wall five minutes later.

How to unblock a sink.

How to change a tap washer.

How to find a stud.

How to use basic tools properly.

How to assemble something from instructions without immediately deciding that whoever designed it was a complete bastard.

Even something as simple as changing a wheel on a car.

These are basic life skills.

And yet I don’t remember anyone teaching them.

I actually learnt more about practical things from my brother Tim and my mates than I ever did sitting in a classroom.

I had an old Honda 90cc, and between taking that thing apart, putting it back together and occasionally wondering why I’d ended up with several mysterious bolts left over, I learnt a surprising amount about mechanics.

I learnt how things work.

How to diagnose a problem.

How to use tools.

How to fix something rather than immediately deciding it was broken beyond repair.

More importantly, I learnt that you don’t necessarily need to know everything before you start.

Sometimes you just need to have a go.

Those lessons have stayed with me.

I’ve used them throughout my life.

I’ve fixed things.

I’ve built things.

I’ve taken things apart.

I’ve occasionally broken things while trying to fix them, but that’s part of the educational process too.

And I suspect I’ve used those lessons far more often than I’ve used my knowledge of the mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell.

Sorry, mitochondria.

You had your chance.

I’m not arguing that schools should stop teaching academic subjects.

Of course they shouldn’t.

Education isn’t simply about producing people who can balance a cheque book and change a tyre.

We need scientists.

Engineers.

Historians.

Artists.

Teachers.

Doctors.

Writers.

Mathematicians.

People who understand literature, politics, science, philosophy and the world around them.

Knowledge matters.

But so does knowing what to do when the washing machine starts making a noise that sounds suspiciously like a small aircraft attempting an emergency landing.

Perhaps education needs a bit more balance.

Teach the theory, absolutely.

But teach us what to do with it.

Give teenagers a basic understanding of money.

Show them how rent, mortgages, bills and household budgets actually work.

Explain taxes.

Teach them how contracts work and why you shouldn’t sign something you haven’t read.

Teach basic cooking.

Basic first aid.

Basic DIY.

Basic car maintenance.

How to change a tyre.

How to safely change a fuse or plug.

How to use a drill without removing a finger.

How to recognise when something is beyond your ability and when you need to call someone who actually knows what they’re doing.

And perhaps most importantly, teach them that asking for help isn’t failure.

Because eventually, every child leaves school.

They become adults.

They get jobs.

They rent houses.

They buy homes.

They have children.

They encounter broken boilers, flat tyres, tax forms, insurance documents, dodgy washing machines and bank statements that seem to have been written in a language known only to accountants.

And suddenly they’re expected to know what they’re doing.

Except nobody actually taught them.

We spend years preparing young people for exams.

Perhaps we should spend a little more time preparing them for the bit that comes afterwards.

Because life doesn’t come with an answer sheet at the back of the book.

Sometimes the answer is simply:

“Right, let’s have a look and see if I can fix it.”

And honestly, that’s probably one of the most useful things my old Honda ever taught me.

Stay safe

Bc