Are our kids getting stupider?
Written by Maria Vogelei
A couple of months ago, my news feed served me this article: “Are we getting stupider?” It struck me as a personal affront given what I had just used my phone’s calculator for (sorry Ms. Sarah). And so, as designed, I fell down the rabbit hole — one-sided opinion pieces, Substack essays, and podcast soundbytes that, as the algorithm intended, convinced me that yes, in fact, we have gotten stupider. And that includes our kids.
From what I gathered along the doom scroll, U.S. students are performing worse by most measurable academic benchmarks than they were a decade ago, and the trend predates COVID. The 2024 results from the National Assessment of Educational Progress show that only 22% of 12th graders are at or above proficient in math. In reading, students posted lower average scores than on any previous assessment in the test's history. Science scores among 8th graders have flatlined. There was one somewhat heartening statistic, however, that managed to surface despite the algorithm's best effort to make me cry: A 2024 study found that IQ scores are still rising, but much more slowly than before: 1.2 IQ points per decade rather than the expected 3. So kids are getting smarter, but just barely. Hooray.
As I scrolled further, I cycled between two thoughts: Holy [moly], we're doomed. And. Holy [cow], how do I lead a school right now?
At some point, I did manage to put my phone down (never more thankful for my kids yelling that they're hungry). I stopped consuming the narrative and started questioning it: Are these articles and research reports telling the entire story? Does what we’re measuring even matter?
Traditional intelligence metrics — IQ tests, standardized assessments, grade point averages — measure skills like memorization, computation, and reading comprehension. These are precisely the capabilities that AI now performs cheaply, instantly, and at massive scale. The benchmarks our schools are optimizing for, and that many of us were raised to revere as markers of a "rich" education, are increasingly the tasks machines simply do better. So perhaps the more urgent question isn't whether our kids are meeting these benchmarks — it's whether these benchmarks are measuring anything that will actually matter. Shouldn't we be building new ones? What about humanity, humility, and hustle?
Think about your child ten years from now. Would you measure their success by their ability to recite world capitals, or by their ability to look someone in the eye and say with conviction, I am brave. I am a leader. I am resilient. Would you measure their competitive advantage by their ability to properly punctuate a five paragraph essay, or by their ability to say, I disagree with you — I've listened, I've learned from your perspective, I respect it, and here is mine. Would you count the A's on their report card, or the number of times they failed and got back up.
And here is where I want to be careful — because this is not an argument against academics, nor is it a suggestion that TVS takes academics lightly. It is an argument that academics should not be the entire picture. The research is clear that children learn more deeply, retain more fully, and perform more confidently when they have agency over their learning — when they are driven by curiosity rather than compliance. A student who owns their education doesn't just memorize; they understand. They don't just perform; they think. And yes, they will learn what words require a capital letter, and that the capital of Kentucky is Frankfort. They will just do it on their own terms, on their own timeline.
Artificial intelligence is not going anywhere. And it is only getting better. Our world today and the one tomorrow begs for a different metric of intelligence. Our job as parents is not to panic over test scores, but to reorient ourselves — and our expectations — toward what will actually matter. Character is a curriculum. Grit is a grade. And growth happens when you put the red pen down. So let’s leave the long division to the calculator on our phone (again, sorry Ms. Sarah). And get to work on everything it can't do.
