Every morning, thousands of school gates open across cities that proudly advertise themselves as centres of excellence. The buildings are modern, the banners list awards, the websites highlight toppers, international collaborations, smart classrooms, and record-breaking results. Parents walk in reassured, believing they are investing in the best possible future for their children. Inside these classrooms, however, something quieter is happening. Students are learning how to score, how to rank, how to perform, but not always how to think, feel, question, or fail. The crisis in education today is not loud or sudden. It does not arrive as a collapse. It grows slowly under glossy brochures and motivational slogans, where mentoring is replaced by marketing, and learning is reduced to output.
At first glance, there seems to be nothing wrong. Academic focus is important. Discipline matters. Structure creates success. Yet the problem begins when academics become the only measure of worth. In an age where artificial intelligence can solve equations, write essays, and retrieve information within seconds, the value of memorised knowledge is shrinking rapidly. What cannot be automated easily are human skills, critical thinking, creativity, emotional intelligence, adaptability, and ethical judgment. Ironically, these are the very skills that many institutions fail to cultivate. Education today often rewards correctness over curiosity and obedience over originality. Students learn what to answer, but rarely why they are answering it.
This shift did not happen overnight. It developed quietly through the commercialisation of education, a process where learning slowly transformed from a public responsibility into a market-driven product. Schools began competing not on depth of learning but on brand image, placement statistics, and admission results. The language changed. Students became consumers. Parents became investors. Education became a return on investment rather than a process of human development. In this environment, marketing budgets expanded while mentoring time shrank.
One of the clearest symptoms of this crisis is credentialism. Schools increasingly focus on producing certificates, ranks, and impressive resumes rather than strong minds. Curricula are optimised for high-stakes exams because rankings sell. University placements sell. Scores sell. Deep learning does not always show immediate visible results, so it is often sacrificed. Students are trained to replicate information rather than challenge it. They become passive recipients instead of active thinkers. Over time, grades replace growth as the primary goal. This creates a generation that performs well on paper but struggles in unpredictable real-world situations. Employers frequently report this gap, where graduates possess degrees but lack problem-solving ability, communication skills, and independent judgment.
The pressure to perform has also given rise to an entire shadow education system. Coaching centres, exam factories, and ed tech platforms promise guaranteed success. For many families, especially middle-income households, the cost of private coaching now exceeds school fees. Education becomes layered. School teaches the syllabus, coaching teaches the exam, and technology fills the gaps with constant assessments and analytics. While this may appear efficient, it deepens inequality. A student from a low-income background may secure admission into a decent school, but cannot compete with peers who have constant access to private tutors, personalised AI tools, and specialised preparation. The system quietly rewards those who can afford reinforcement.
This phenomenon is not limited to one country. In South Korea, one of the most academically advanced nations, the dominance of private tutoring known as hagwons has become so intense that it has sparked national debate. Studies have shown that despite strong public education, excessive reliance on private coaching has increased stress, widened social gaps, and distorted the purpose of learning. The lesson is clear. When education becomes performance-driven rather than purpose-driven, pressure replaces curiosity.
Another significant shift lies in school leadership. Principals and administrators increasingly operate as corporate managers. Success is measured through enrollment numbers, brand perception, and market reach. Decisions about subjects, teachers, and activities are often influenced by market demand rather than educational value. Subjects like philosophy, ethics, arts, and social sciences are frequently sidelined because they do not offer an immediate competitive advantage. Yet these disciplines
are essential for nurturing empathy, creativity, and moral reasoning. When such subjects disappear, education loses its human core.
The pandemic accelerated this trend. Ed tech platforms expanded rapidly, offering accessibility and convenience. While technology has undeniable benefits, global education reports from organisations like UNESCO highlighted a concerning pattern. Engagement metrics, subscriptions, and scalability often took priority over depth of learning. Digital tools became substitutes rather than supplements. Education risked becoming transactional rather than transformational.
At its core, commercialisation reflects a deeper philosophical shift. When education is treated as a public good, its purpose is holistic development, equal opportunity, and social responsibility. When treated as a market good, its purpose shifts to revenue generation, consumer satisfaction, and competitive positioning. Students are trained to succeed within the system, not to question it. Schools sell certainty in an uncertain world, promising outcomes rather than understanding.
This mindset also reshapes how parents view learning. Questions change from what my child is learning to what this education will guarantee. Institutions respond by advertising placements, rankings, and success stories. What is lost in this exchange is mentorship. Teachers become instructors. Mentors become evaluators. Students are guided less and measured more.
Yet education was never meant to be efficient alone. It was meant to be formative. Some of the most impactful learning moments occur in uncertainty, debate, and failure. These experiences cannot be quantified easily, so they are often undervalued. When systems prioritise predictability, they discourage exploration. Students learn to fear mistakes rather than learn from them.
A powerful case study comes from Finland, whose education system consistently ranks among the best globally despite minimal standardised testing. Finnish schools emphasise teacher autonomy, student wellbeing, and experiential learning. The focus is not on competition but on collaboration. Students are encouraged to think, question, and grow at their own pace. The result is not only academic success but emotional resilience and social responsibility. This stands in contrast to highly commercialised systems where pressure dominates, and learning becomes mechanical.
The commercialisation of education does not mean that institutions are intentionally harming students. It often arises from systemic pressure. Global competition, employability concerns, and parental anxiety all contribute. However, acknowledging intent does not eliminate impact. When education prioritises image over insight, students pay the cost.
The long-term consequences are already visible. Rising burnout among students, declining attention spans, anxiety around performance, and confusion about purpose. When education focuses solely on outcomes, it neglects the inner development required to sustain those outcomes.
True reform does not mean rejecting structure or academic rigour. It means restoring balance. Education must prepare students not only to pass exams but to navigate life. Mentorship must return to the centre. Teachers must be empowered as guides, not reduced to deliverers of content. Skills like critical thinking, emotional literacy, and ethical reasoning must be treated as essential, not optional.
Marketing may attract admissions, but mentoring shapes lives. A system that forgets this risks producing impressive resumes with fragile foundations. Education should not merely teach students
how to compete, but how to contribute, adapt, and think independently. Until mentoring regains its place over marketing, the crisis will continue quietly, not in failing grades, but in unfulfilled potential.