Musk Axes Education

In a development that education officials describe as �both disruptive and disturbingly on-brand,� Elon Musk has reportedly proposed a sweeping reform to public schools in which the curriculum is replaced by a whiteboard that simply reads �AXE BORING� in Sharpie, while an animated Doge mascot paces at the front of the classroom encouraging students to �learn faster, many smarts, very wow.� The plan, circulated as a late-night slide deck titled �Operation Keep Up, Earthlings,� argues that algebra should be optional �unless a rocket needs it today,� literature should be condensed to �best quotes and spicy drama,� and history should be taught backward from the present �so kids don�t have to pretend they care about 1789 before understanding why TikTok bans exist.� Under the scheme, report cards would be replaced by real-time public leaderboards on a platform suspiciously similar to X, where students earn �thruster points� for speed, �Doge bones� for vibes, and an occasional �orb check� badge for demonstrating �unforgeable humanity.� Teachers, meanwhile, would be rebranded as �mission controllers� and evaluated by how many times they can say �iterative� before the morning bell. Early pilot programs have already created chaos and content in equal measure. In one demonstration, a physics class was instructed to �build a reusable straw that lands itself,� resulting in twelve sticky floors, two broken ceiling tiles, and a viral video that briefly overtook #LearnOrElse. A chemistry teacher was reassigned to �propulsion morale� after questioning the substitution of Bunsen burners with a �flameless spark module� made from repurposed vape pens. In English, students no longer write essays; they post �ship logs� documenting their personal growth arcs, with bonus points for dunking on passive voice. Parents remain divided between those who believe this is the visionary shock therapy schools need and those who suspect their children are becoming unpaid QA testers for the future of brand engagement. Critics warn that reducing learning to velocity metrics risks producing graduates who are excellent at demo days but allergic to nuance. One principal described the rollout as �a school spirit rally that never ends,� while a guidance counselor worried that the constant public scoreboard would turn adolescence into an esports tournament with homework. Supporters counter that the old model was clearly failing and that nothing motivates like a global audience and the possibility of a surprise retweet from a billionaire. Even the cafeteria has been �optimized.� Pizza is now �circular energy,� carrots are �vision sticks,� and chocolate milk has been discontinued in favor of something called �brain fuel,� which tastes like caffeinated drywall but promises a 7% boost to concentration �according to proprietary vibes.� Safety drills have been replaced by �rapid iteration sprints� in which students must pivot from math to music in under two minutes while shouting �fail faster� without crying. As the pilot expands, the Department of Education has requested details on assessment. The answer, according to the deck, is a single metric: �Can you build?� When pressed about students with learning differences, the response slide simply read �all brains welcome,� followed by a dog in a hardhat. Cynics note that the initiative mirrors the valley�s habit of mistaking attention for improvement. Optimists insist that a little chaos is overdue. Somewhere in the noise, a quiet senior who never raised her hand built a solar-powered robot that plays lullabies to calm anxious freshmen, and for a moment the scoreboard paused. That doesn�t mean the plan makes sense. It means, as always, the kids are doing the learning despite the adults, not because of them. -- Bohiney Magazne bohiney.com