I remember lying in the back of my parents’ station wagon, staring at the cityscapes of San Francisco whizzing by, bombarding my father with my endless questions. “But why?” I’d ask. And just as he’d finish answering, another “but why?” would follow. He still ribs me about it to this day, even mimicking the voice and tone I used while pestering him on those drives. That relentless curiosity, annoying as it was, shaped the way I see the world, and it’s the same spark I try to nurture in my students.
Yet too often, I watch that spark fade, replaced by rote answers and passive acceptance. When the “why” goes missing, so does curiosity—and with it, the very ability to think for oneself.
A few years ago, my classroom was alive with questions. When I asked, “Why does this character make that choice?” or “What can this teach us about human behavior?” students debated. They disagreed, laughed, and sometimes changed their minds mid-sentence. They wrestled with ideas, not just answers.
This year, I ask the same questions, and the room falls silent. The same school. The same curriculum. The same teacher. But not the same students. Bright, hardworking, and polite, they wait for me to tell them what to think. When I push for interpretation or cause-and-effect, they freeze. Students can recount events but struggle to ask why they happened, why they matter, and what we’re meant to take from them. They can memorize dates and names but fail to see the human choices, moral dilemmas, and societal forces that shape the past. This isn’t just one school or group of students; it is a systemic issue impacting teachers and classrooms across the country. Curiosity isn’t just fading—it’s missing.

A Culture That Discourages Wonder.
The decline of curiosity extends beyond the classroom. Students live in a world that prizes speed, certainty, and compliance. Search engines and AI offer instant answers, social media takes up way too much of their time, and standardized testing rewards memorization over critical thinking. We are seeing confirmation that too much screen time shortens attention spans. Even at home, children are overscheduled, with little time for self-reflection, imaginative exploration, or the opportunity to just be bored. Parents, too, seem less likely to meaningfully engage with and ask their children about what they learned at school—partly because the ritual of family dinner, once a space for conversation, has become the exception rather than the norm. And parents are often glued to their phones, tuning out their kids even when they don’t mean to.

The Consequences of Intellectual Passivity.

When curiosity fades, thinking becomes brittle, the mind fragile. In literature, characters flatten into stereotypes; in history, events reduce to isolated facts; in science, formulas replace understanding. Students can memorize without ever questioning and pass exams without truly learning. Curiosity is dead.
This is not just an academic issue—it’s a societal one. A generation that stops asking why becomes vulnerable to manipulation, politically, socially, and morally. Curiosity is the first defense against complacency, conformity, and propaganda. Without it, education risks producing citizens who can pass tests but fail to critically engage with the world.
A curious mind is not easily swayed by convenient answers or emotional rhetoric. It is a mind that questions assumptions, seeks out diverse perspectives, and challenges its own beliefs. It’s a mind that understands that the world is complex and that easy answers are rarely the full truth. By nurturing curiosity, we are not just teaching students how to think critically; we are empowering them to think independently, free from the influences that seek to manipulate or control them.

Modeling the Power of Thought.

In my classroom, I strive to cultivate curiosity as a form of freedom. One of my favorite reminders is a series of posters I’ve hung around the room: René Descartes’ “I think, therefore I am”—a reminder of the power of individual thought; an image referencing Orwell’s 1984, whose work repeatedly warns against propaganda, groupthink, and intellectual passivity, emphasizing the need to think independently; and finally, a few personal additions that my students have dubbed “Sundisms”: “To question is to think. To think is to be free” and “If you’re not questioning, you’re not learning.” These aren’t just decorations—they’re a manifesto, a call to expand your mind. They remind both my students and me that thinking is not just something we can do—it’s something we must do, and questioning boldly is the heart of true intellectual freedom.
Critical thinking, I tell my students, is not simply a skill; it is a safeguard against intellectual and moral passivity. It empowers them to evaluate what they read and hear, to form independent judgments, and to resist the temptation to let others do the thinking for them.

Reclaiming Curiosity Through Reflection and Collaboration.

In addition to reading and discussion, I make writing a cornerstone of learning. I have my students write in-class essays, then spend the remainder of the period in peer review. I remind them that it’s a no-judgment zone, where their primary task is to find something positive to say about a classmate’s work and learn from each other.
Afterwards, students engage in self-reflection, considering what they could do better next time. This combination of peer feedback and personal reflection has proven remarkably effective. Not only do students improve their writing skills, but they also gain confidence in their own thinking. They come to understand that critique is not a threat, but a tool for growth—and that their voice, whether it’s their analysis or their interpretation, matters.
Through these exercises, curiosity becomes active rather than passive. Students aren’t simply absorbing information; they are interrogating it, evaluating it, and shaping it into their own understanding. They practice the very skills that guard against intellectual complacency and foster independent thought.

Learning from History: A Lesson Beyond the Textbook.

We bring this philosophy to life in concrete ways. Every year, my students read Orwell’s 1984, and upon completing the book, we visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. Walking through the exhibits, seeing the tangible evidence of what happens when books are burned, ideas are suppressed, and people are dehumanized, transforms abstract warnings into something visceral and real.
Standing before personal belongings, photographs, and testimonies, students are forced to confront the human cost of unquestioning compliance and unchecked authority. The experience is sobering, unforgettable, and deeply personal—a vivid demonstration that thoughtlessness has consequences that extend far beyond the classroom. It prompts the most essential questions: How and why did this happen? And how can we prevent it from happening again?

Reclaiming Curiosity.

Reviving curiosity won’t come from new textbooks or clever apps. It requires a cultural shift—one that values questions over answers, process over product, and wonder over speed. Teachers can foster this shift by creating safe spaces for uncertainty and exploration. Parents, too, can model curiosity by asking questions to which they themselves don’t have the answers.
Curiosity may not boost standardized test scores, but it cultivates independent minds—minds that question, empathize, and imagine. Minds that resist surrendering their thinking to convenience, ideological manipulation, or fear.
In nurturing curiosity, we give students and children something more valuable than knowledge alone: the freedom to think for themselves. ❦

About The Author

Maria Sund teaches high school English and World History at a private school in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. She holds a master’s degree from Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service.
In addition to being a wife and the mother of three children, she is a polyglot, pianist, and published photographer. Maria is passionate about fostering curiosity, critical thinking, and a lifelong love of learning, and firmly believes that the most valuable lesson education can offer is the ability to think for oneself.

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