This line of questioning cuts to the heart of the contradiction that everyone feels but rarely names. School makes enormous demands on students and families. It demands 13 years of attendance. It demands compliance with countless rules. It demands time, energy, and emotional bandwidth. It demands that families rearrange their lives around its schedule. And at the end of all that, what does it offer in return? Nothing. No guarantees. No follow-up. No support. Just a diploma and a handshake.

Think about what happens after graduation. Does the school check in to see if you're doing okay? Does it help you find a job? Does it provide food or housing if you're struggling? Does it offer psychological counseling when life gets hard? Of course not. The relationship ends the moment you walk out the door. You're on your own. The system that demanded so much from you for so long has no further interest in your wellbeing.

Now contrast this with any other service. If you pay a coach to help you get in shape, they care about whether you actually get in shape. If you hire a consultant, they care about whether their advice works. If you buy a product, there's a warranty, a return policy, some expectation that the thing will do what it promised. But school? School makes no promises. It offers no guarantees. It takes 13 years and 11,000 hours of your life and then says "good luck."

And yet, despite offering nothing, school demands everything. It demands mandatory attendance, enforced by law. It demands mandatory courses, regardless of your interests. It demands compliance with dress codes, behavior codes, endless rules. It demands that families structure their entire lives around its schedule. It takes your child for most of their waking hours and tells you that you have no choice.

The hypocrisy is staggering. If school were truly valuable, people would choose it. If the product were worth the cost, you wouldn't need truancy officers. But the system knows it can't compete on value, so it competes on force. It requires participation because it knows voluntary participation would collapse.

The wealthy have always understood this. They don't rely on the public system to prepare their children for life. They supplement with tutors, private schools, enrichment programs, internships, connections. They know that 13 years of K-12 isn't nearly enough, so they layer more on top. The diploma alone is worthless to them. They need the extras to make it mean something.

But what about everyone else? What about families who can't afford the extras? They're left with the diploma and nothing else. They're told that this piece of paper represents preparedness, but when they try to use it, doors don't open. Employers want experience. Colleges want more credits. The military wants aptitude. The diploma, on its own, is nearly worthless. The wealthy know this because they never relied on it. The poor discover it when it's too late.

This is the fundamental dishonesty at the heart of compulsory schooling. We pretend that 13 years is enough. We pretend that the diploma means something. We pretend that the system is preparing young people for life. But our actions reveal what we actually believe. No one with options stops at K-12. No one with resources says "my child is ready now." They all know the truth. They just don't say it out loud.

The only honest approach is to acknowledge that school, as currently constituted, offers no guarantees and delivers questionable value. Then ask: why are we forcing people into it? If the product were good, force wouldn't be necessary. The fact that it is necessary tells you everything you need to know about the product.

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