Learning Without Grades
I learned more about history from Wikipedia rabbit holes than four years of high school classes.
Four years. Eight semesters. Hundreds of classes. Textbooks. Notes. Exams. Assignments. Grades.
Learned dates. Memorized events. Passed tests. Got good marks. Forgot everything.
Then one night, reading about World War I on Wikipedia. Clicked a link about the Ottoman Empire. Then about the Armenian genocide. Then about Atatürk. Then about Turkish modernization. Then about the alphabet reform. Then about language and identity.
Hours passed. Dawn arrived. I’d traveled through a century of history across three continents. Connected dots no textbook connected. Understood patterns no class revealed. Learned more in one night than one year of formal education.
Why? What was different?
Something magical happens when learning serves curiosity instead of grades. The pressure to perform perfectly disappears. Replaced by permission to explore imperfectly. Questions arise naturally instead of being manufactured for exams.
In class, learning had purpose: pass the test. Get good grades. Don’t fail. Performance pressure. Every fact mattered for exams. Every date needed memorizing. Every detail could determine marks.
On Wikipedia, learning had different purpose: satisfy curiosity. Understand better. Know more. No performance pressure. No tests. No grades. Just exploration. Just discovery. Just knowing for its own sake.
Testing transforms learning from discovery into performance art. Students master the theater of knowing without achieving actual understanding. They memorize formulas without grasping principles. Rehearse answers without developing thinking.
I memorized the causes of World War I for exams. Listed them perfectly. Imperialism, militarism, nationalism, alliance systems. Got full marks. Forgot them immediately after.
But learning through curiosity? Understanding how Ottoman decline created power vacuum. How Balkan nationalism threatened empires. How alliance systems turned local conflicts into world wars. These connections stayed. Made sense. Mattered.
The removal of assessment liberates authentic engagement. Without grades to protect, learners can risk confusion. Admit ignorance. Pursue tangents that might prove irrelevant but feel essential.
In class, couldn’t admit confusion. Would seem stupid. Would affect participation grades. Had to pretend understanding even when lost.
On Wikipedia, could admit anything. Could read same paragraph five times. Could explore tangents for hours. Could get completely lost and not care. No judgment. No grades. No performance.
My son studies history now. Hates it. “So boring,” he says. “Just memorizing dates.”
But he loves historical YouTube videos. Watches for hours. World War II tactics. Ancient Roman engineering. Medieval siege warfare. Completely engaged. Remembering everything.
“Why don’t you study like this?” I ask.
“That’s not studying,” he says. “That’s just watching videos.”
But he’s learning. Deeply. Genuinely. Just not for grades. Not for exams. Not for school. For himself. For curiosity. For the pure pleasure of knowing.
School has convinced him that learning without assessment isn’t real learning. That knowledge without grades doesn’t count. That understanding without testing isn’t valuable.
This is tragedy. Real tragedy. We’ve taught children that learning serves external validation instead of internal curiosity. That knowledge is currency for grades instead of treasure for its own sake.
Tonight I choose learning for its own sake. Reading without highlighting. Exploring without objectives. Knowing for the pure pleasure of knowing.
Pick a topic. Any topic. Byzantine Empire. Never studied it formally. Never tested on it. Never needed it for grades.
Start reading. Wikipedia. Then academic articles. Then books. Following curiosity. Clicking links. Exploring tangents. Getting lost in details that fascinate.
Hours pass. Learn about Constantinople’s walls. The Hagia Sophia’s engineering. Greek fire’s chemistry. The Justinian plague. The religious controversies. The decline and fall.
Will I be tested on this? No. Will it help my career? Probably not. Will anyone care that I know this? Unlikely.
But I know it now. Understand it. Connected it to other knowledge. Expanded my understanding of history, architecture, religion, politics, human nature.
This is real learning. The kind that sticks. The kind that matters. The kind that changes how you see the world.
My friend Labib is professor. Teaches literature. Tells me his best students are the worst test-takers. They get lost in books. Explore tangents. Make unexpected connections. But struggle with standardized answers.
His worst students are the best test-takers. They know exactly what exams want. Deliver perfect answers. Get excellent grades. But understand nothing. Care about nothing. Learn nothing.
“The system rewards performance over understanding,” he says. “Tests measure test-taking skills, not learning. Grades measure compliance, not curiosity.”
He’s right. The students who learn most get punished. Marked down for “irrelevant” insights. Penalized for “going off topic.” Criticized for “overthinking.”
The students who learn least get rewarded. Praised for “staying focused.” Rewarded for “following instructions.” Celebrated for “knowing exactly what’s needed.”
This is backwards. Completely backwards. We’re training test-takers instead of learners. Creating answer-deliverers instead of question-askers. Building grade-optimizers instead of knowledge-seekers.
What if we removed grades entirely? What if learning had no external reward except understanding itself? What if students pursued knowledge for curiosity instead of marks?
“Chaos,” educators say. “Students wouldn’t study. Wouldn’t learn. Wouldn’t work without motivation.”
But that’s wrong. Humans are naturally curious. Children learn constantly before school teaches them not to. Questions flow freely until formal education channels them into test-format.
The motivation problem isn’t lack of grades. It’s that grades killed intrinsic motivation. That external rewards destroyed internal curiosity. That performance pressure eliminated exploration joy.
Remove grades and initially—yes—chaos. Because students have been trained to work for marks instead of understanding. But eventually, curiosity returns. Natural learning resumes. Real education begins.
I’ve seen this in my own life. Subjects I studied for grades? Forgotten completely. Subjects I explored for curiosity? Remembered permanently.
Chemistry class? Can’t remember anything. Periodic table? Gone. Chemical reactions? Forgotten. Four years of education—vanished.
But chemistry of cooking? Which I learned for fun? Understood completely. Why baking soda reacts with acid. How proteins denature. What happens during caramelization. Remembered perfectly. Applied constantly.
Difference? One was for grades. One was for curiosity. One was performance. One was exploration. One died after exams. One lives forever.
Tonight I make resolution. Learn something new. Not for career. Not for credentials. Not for anything except knowing. Pick topic. Any topic. Follow curiosity wherever it leads.
Start with Byzantine architecture. End with modern engineering. Travel through centuries. Across continents. Through multiple disciplines. Getting delightfully lost. Pursuing tangents. Exploring connections.
No highlighting for future reference. No note-taking for exams. No organizing for tests. Just reading. Understanding. Connecting. Knowing.
This is education. Real education. The kind that transforms how you think instead of what you can recite. The kind that lasts lifetime instead of semester. The kind that matters beyond grades.
My son will learn this eventually. Maybe in college. Maybe after. Maybe never in formal education. But life will teach him: grades measure performance, not learning. Tests measure compliance, not understanding. Real knowledge comes from curiosity, not curriculum.
Until then, I’ll model it. Learn openly. For pleasure. For curiosity. For the pure joy of knowing. Show him that education beyond grades is possible. That learning for its own sake is valuable. That understanding matters more than marks.
The Wikipedia rabbit hole awaits. The curiosity calls. The learning without grades begins.
Tonight and always, I choose knowing over performing. Understanding over reciting. Curiosity over curriculum. Learning for its own sake over learning for external validation.
This is freedom. This is education. This is what learning should be—joyful exploration rather than anxious performance, curious discovery rather than grade optimization.
The Byzantine Empire awaits. And behind it, infinite connections to explore. Without tests. Without grades. Without anything except the pure pleasure of learning for learning’s sake.