As a kid, I was always thrilled by the opening sequence of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Patrick Stewart’s deep, paternal voice would tell us that space was “the final frontier,” while the orchestra swelled against a cosmic background full of wonder, mystery, curiosity, and possibility.
It made me dream about the future and the unknowable problems and adventures it holds.
As a teacher, I still believe in that kind of wonder. But I also recognize that the final frontier for most of our students will not likely be intergalactic exploration. It will still be a future of uncertain problems, creative demands, civic tensions, technological change, and questions without answer keys. If we want students prepared for that final frontier, we have to help them cross their first one: the classroom moment when learning stops being something handed down and becomes something pursued.
That first frontier begins with curiosity.
Fandakova and Gruber define curiosity as the desire to acquire new information and report that curiosity enhances learning and memory (Fandakova & Gruber, 2021). A question is often the student’s first frontier: the point where learning moves from “What do I have to do?” to “What can I discover?” Curiosity is not the opposite of rigor. It is one way to make rigor memorable.
The urgency of recovering that wonder feels especially sharp in the post-COVID educational landscape. Many leaders would rather stop talking about the pandemic, as though students who spent key developmental years behind masks, screens, uncertainty, and fear simply moved on because adults wanted them to. But children do not develop in abstractions. They develop in classrooms, homes, hallways, friendships, disruptions, and routines. The pandemic is not the only factor shaping today’s schools, but pretending it left no mark does not help us teach the students actually in front of us.
The klaxon alarms are not only anecdotal. NAEP reported that 2024 twelfth-grade reading scores were lower than both 2019 and 1992, and twelfth-grade mathematics scores were lower than both 2019 and 2005 (National Center for Education Statistics, 2024a, 2024b). NCES also reported serious school climate concerns in 2021–22, including hundreds of thousands of violent and nonviolent incidents in U.S. public schools (National Center for Education Statistics, 2024c). Kim’s analysis of Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking data found that creative thinking scores have declined since 1990, even as IQ scores rose (Kim, 2011).
These data do not prove one simple cause or even one simple phenomenon. They do not prove that technology ruined students, that the pandemic explains everything, or that the next generation is somehow broken. They do suggest something more useful: our approach needs reevaluation, and our goals require something more than completion. If students are struggling with skills, behavior, and creativity, then compliance alone cannot be the answer, but it should be a foundation of the solution. We need schools that are orderly enough to function and curious enough to matter.
The barefooted hippie child in me, the one that still distrusts the artificial nature of grades, is not always thrilled to admit this: structure matters. We cannot do the Dewey things without attending to the Maslow things. Safety, security, predictability, and purpose are not enemies of inquiry. They are often its preconditions.
The problem is not order. The problem is order for its own sake.
Buses should arrive on time. Students should move safely through hallways. Classrooms should settle smoothly. Assignments should be completed. Teachers should be able to teach. Leaders should establish routines that shape culture. Parents should expect schools to be safe, serious, and purposeful.
But if students are only making it through the day because of order, then we have protected them without fully educating them. Schools should not feel like prisons with better bulletin boards. We want students to thrive and to discover, regardless of whether their own minds are English gardens, hedge mazes in Versailles, starships in the Alpha Quadrant, laboratories under the sea, workshops on the moon, or something stranger and more original than any metaphor we can offer them.
Their minds contain both the first frontier and the final frontier: the practical and the imaginary, the structured and the unknown.
That means students need foundations, but those foundations should become bedrock for inspiration. In classrooms, organized confusion can fuel the mind. Chaos only burns opportunities to learn. Students need to read deeply, reason mathematically, manage conflict, create solutions, adapt, generalize, synthesize information, and solve problems first through guided steps and eventually through failing forward. They need to march through their multiplication facts so that they can dance through engineering problems.
Most episodes of Star Trek pose a problem complicated enough to require both expertise and imagination. The crew does not succeed because they ignore protocols. They succeed because their protocols are braided with strands of curiosity, judgment, and resourcefulness. The same was true in the very real story of Apollo 13. Both Starfleet and NASA depend on checklists, chains of command, and disciplined systems. The imagination of the final frontier is premised on the realities of the first one. But when life is on the line, order and creativity are not opposites. They are intertwined ways of thinking.
This is the balance schools need.
Teachers need routines to avoid chaos. Leaders need coherent systems that build cultures around consistency. Parents and communities need to trust that schools are safe and purposeful. Compliance has value because it creates safety, respect, responsibility, predictability, and readiness. But readiness is not the destination; it is the launchpad.
Guay argues that students’ natural tendencies toward growth “require an environment that will support them” (Guay, 2022). Wang and colleagues similarly caution that it is “unrealistic to assume” that every student will be intrinsically motivated all the time (Wang et al., 2024). That means the first frontier is not a classroom without expectations or guidelines; there must be end goals. It is a classroom where expectations point toward discovery.
Curiosity is more valuable than compliance, but it does not grow by accident. It grows when structure invites students to wonder what is on the other side of the walls we have built. Compliance can produce order and completion. Curiosity can produce ownership, engagement, experience, memory, creativity, and adaptive problem-solving. Frontiers are uncertain. Students must eventually move from following directions to asking better questions. Structure should always be in service of curiosity.
This is, of course, always easier said than done. Many schools can appear successful while failing to cultivate deep thinking, creativity, and ownership. Standardized tests do not measure every aspect of ability. That has long been the danger of drill-and-kill instruction. An orderly, silent class may be focused, but it may also be passive. Those students might have great test-taking ability and no cultivated abstract thinking. A completed worksheet may show understanding, but it may also show only task completion. A good report card may reflect performance without transfer.
So the burning question is not whether we need routines and structure. We do. That is why we have traffic lights on the roads and menus in restaurants. The better question is this: How do we use routines to help students move from notes on the page to songs in their hearts? Or to be less saccharine, how do we get them to express a unique intellectual identity?
Guay notes that the reasons students do schoolwork matter because those reasons “do not lead to the same quality of outcomes” (Guay, 2022). If a student is interested, they invest; if they are disinterested, at best they comply. Wang and colleagues explain that students can be externally regulated by rewards or punishment (Wang et al., 2024). Guay adds that “the more autonomous the motivation is,” the more positive the consequences should be for students (Guay, 2022).
This does not mean every student is ready for open-ended inquiry at the same moment. Some students flourish creatively sooner than others. Some need more modeling, more practice, more feedback, or more structure before they can take the leap. We should not punish students for not being ready to improvise. Opportunity and inspiration help cultivate readiness, but they do not automatically create it.
That is why we should not force a false choice between structure and autonomy. Structure should make autonomy possible. In my own creative writing classes, I’ve always introduced limitations and rules to activate imagination. “If there is a gun, it can only have three bullets” or “Your main character’s cell phone must be broken”. These kinds of rules in writing force creativity and eliminate the easy solutions to story problems. In science classes, we limit the materials either to prevent mistakes but in a maker space that same limitation becomes possibilities. That paper towel role suddenly becomes a column for a bridge or a building.
Guay describes autonomy-supportive behavior as giving students opportunities to act “within certain guidelines” while also offering meaningful rationales (Guay, 2022). Dong and colleagues likewise emphasize that autonomy support and structure together can strengthen student engagement (Dong et al., 2022).
If we take ourselves back to the bridge of the Enterprise-D, Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s catchphrase offers a good illustration of creativity and compliance. When Picard says, “Make it so,” it feels authoritative. But on the bridge of the Enterprise, that command usually follows evidence, expertise, discussion, and judgment. The high ranking offers have discussed it in the conference room or the ready room. What they are “making so” is the solution at the end of inquiry, not an unexplored mandate. The roles, knowledge, and relationships between the captain and his crew guide the actions and direction of the command.
The same should be true in classrooms. Compliance may organize the room. Discussion, reasoning, and creativity solve the problem.
Apollo 13 gives us a real-world version. The historically accurate version of Tom Hanks’ famous line is “Houston, we’ve had a problem” (NASA, 2020). The film’s “Failure is not an option” tagline captures the urgency of the moment (Howard, 1995). The crew and engineers did not survive by abandoning procedure. They survived because they understood their systems deeply enough to adapt when the checklist no longer held, when creativity and compliance combined into salvation. In classrooms, the problem is an assignment–the stakes aren’t as dire but the need for the solution is still the goal. The limitations or guidelines and the procedures are the venue for thinking and hopefully creativity. Sometimes they succeed and sometimes they don’t; luckily they aren’t in orbit around the moon and their lives aren’t on the line. Only their grades.
That is the classroom lesson. Students should have many opportunities to fail forward before they face real pressure and life-changing consequences. They need chances to build the intellectual and emotional resources required to solve problems with limited time, limited tools, and imperfect information. The Apollo 13 engineers worked inside severe constraints. Those constraints did not eliminate creativity. They defined the problem that creativity had to solve.
Project-based learning, inquiry tasks, labs, debates, design challenges, performances, and authentic writing can do the same. They can teach students to use limited resources toward expansive solutions. Following directions grows into using references. Using references grows into adapting knowledge. And when the checklist no longer solves the problem, curiosity and innovation begin.
Students engage more deeply when they feel both capable and trusted. Guay links autonomous motivation with academic performance, persistence, learning, satisfaction, and positive emotions at school (Guay, 2022). Wang and colleagues found consistent support for autonomy and competence in Self-Determination Theory-based interventions (Wang et al., 2024). But autonomy without competence is not freedom; it is frustration. Students cannot cross the first frontier unsupported. Gradual release of responsibility works because trust grows alongside tools, practice, and mastery.
Curiosity-centered classrooms depend on specific adult behaviors, not vague inspiration. Dong and colleagues call autonomy support a crucial determinant of teaching practice for student engagement (Dong et al., 2022). Teachers need to listen, respond to students’ questions, provide meaningful rationales, and create meaningful choices. Students need adults who explain why the work matters, invite questions, accept mistakes as information, and make risk feel survivable.
That last part is hard because failure stings for longer than success gratifies. Students often interpret grades as paychecks, and this has a great deal of social value, though its academic impact can distract from the nature of curiosity. Failure can feel like lost wages. Money is easy come, easy go; knowledge from learning is earned and kept, even when spent. If we want students to take intellectual risks, we have to create opportunities to fail without feeling like failures. We have to help them see the long-term gratification that productive struggle can yield.
There are practical ways to do this in every subject area. Begin with questions, not answers. Use mysteries, contradictions, curious scenarios, primary-source puzzles, strange images, and open-ended problems. Ask students what they would do and why. Do not rush to the solution before they have had a chance to wonder.
Explain the why. “Because it is on the test” may produce compliance, but it rarely produces ownership. Thinking is not just on the test. In life, thinking is the test.
Offer meaningful choice within clear boundaries. Choice might involve topic, text, strategy, product, resources, group role, audience, or problem-solving pathway. Choice does not remove standards. It gives students a stake in meeting them and defining the world around them.
We must teach students to treat mistakes as information. Ask: What does this error show? What assumption did we make? What strategy might work next? What did this attempt teach us?
We must make the work meaningful. Guay argues that teachers should create tasks that are authentic or meaningful for children (Guay, 2022). That does not mean every assignment has to change the world. It means students should understand why the work matters beyond the gradebook.
Building curiosity-centered schools is a shared responsibility. Teachers must ask whether students are not only on task, but thinking. Leaders must ask whether systems are merely producing quiet rooms or supporting meaningful learning. Parents can ask better questions at home: What surprised you today? What did you figure out? What are you still wondering? What did you do when you got stuck?
Curiosity cannot die when the lesson plan ends. It has to live in our expectations, our routines, our family conversations, our leadership priorities, and our classroom culture. Students who understand structures also learn when structures matter, when they can be bent, and when they need to be rebuilt. Sometimes they need to follow the procedure. Sometimes they need to repurpose the tool. Sometimes they need to reverse the polarity and redirect power to the shields.
Ultimately, the smooth school day matters. Safety matters. Completed work matters. Clear expectations matter. But those are premises, not conclusions.
If we want students ready for the final frontier, we have to help them cross the first one. Compliance can produce order. Curiosity produces ownership. Compliance can complete the task. Curiosity can deepen the learning. Compliance helps students follow the path. Curiosity helps them navigate when the path disappears.
The future our students face will be uncertain, demanding, creative, and unscripted. Every classroom offers a chance to prepare them for it, if only we are willing to take them on these voyages toward the final frontier.
Citation list
Dong, Y., Chen, P., Wang, H., Wang, K., & Huang, R. (2022). Teachers’ autonomy support and student engagement: A systematic literature review of longitudinal studies. Frontiers in Psychology, 13, Article 925955. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2022.925955
Fandakova, Y., & Gruber, M. J. (2021). States of curiosity and interest enhance memory differently in adolescents and in children. Developmental Science, 24(1), Article e13005. https://doi.org/10.1111/desc.13005
Guay, F. (2022). Applying self-determination theory to education: Regulations types, psychological needs, and autonomy supporting behaviors. Canadian Journal of School Psychology, 37(1), 75–92. https://doi.org/10.1177/08295735211055355
Howard, R. (Director). (1995). Apollo 13 [Film]. Universal Pictures.
Kim, K. H. (2011). The creativity crisis: The decrease in creative thinking scores on the Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking. Creativity Research Journal, 23(4), 285–295. https://doi.org/10.1080/10400419.2011.627805
NASA. (2020, April 13). Houston, we’ve had a problem. https://www.nasa.gov/history/houston-weve-had-a-problem/
National Center for Education Statistics. (2024a). NAEP reading: Grade 12 national results. The Nation’s Report Card. https://www.nationsreportcard.gov/reports/reading/2024/g12/
National Center for Education Statistics. (2024b). NAEP mathematics: Grade 12 national results. The Nation’s Report Card. https://www.nationsreportcard.gov/reports/mathematics/2024/g12/
National Center for Education Statistics. (2024c). Crime, violence, discipline, and safety in U.S. public schools: Findings from the School Survey on Crime and Safety: 2021–22. U.S. Department of Education. https://nces.ed.gov/pubs2024/2024043_summary.pdf
Wang, Y., Wang, H., Wang, S., Wind, S. A., & Gill, C. (2024). A systematic review and meta-analysis of self-determination-theory-based interventions in the education context. Learning and Motivation, 87, Article 102015. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.lmot.2024.102015