Don't be a Larry

Imagine this.

Your doorbell rings. You open the door and there stands a man in a bright red jacket. He’s smiling, relaxed, confident and on his chest, a name tag: Larry.

“Congratulations,” he says. “Today is your lucky day. I have the perfect car for you. It only costs €35,000. Shall I process the payment?”

You blink.
“Larry… I didn’t order a car. And I don’t even know you.”

But Larry doesn’t hesitate. He’s prepared.

“We hired the best designers. The best engineers. The best market researchers. They studied people like you. They know exactly what you need. This is the perfect car for you.”

And then he repeats, calmly and professionally:
“Shall I process the €35,000?”

Would you buy that car?

Of course not.

If you want a car, you decide when. You search. You compare. You talk to friends. You visit showrooms. And maybe—eventually—you walk into Larry’s showroom.

But only when you’re ready.

So why am I telling you this?

Because education often works exactly like Larry.

We hire the best experts. Governments define the best learning goals. Publishers write the best textbooks. Schools build careful schedules. Teachers prepare thoughtful lessons. Everything is well designed, well researched, carefully aligned.

And somewhere, half a year in advance, we already know that on the third Thursday of November, at 10:15 in the morning, we will explain the Pythagorean theorem to a group of 14-year-olds.

Whether they are ready or not.
Whether they are curious or not.
Whether they see the relevance or not.

We have built a beautiful car.

But we never checked if the learner actually wants to buy.

Even car sales don’t work like that. When you walk into a showroom, nobody forces a car on you. They try to connect. At the right moment. When you are searching. When there’s tension between where you are and where you want to go.

They don’t start with specifications. They connect to your personal why — to who you are, and who you want to become.

In education, we often start with what.

And here’s the tricky part. Even innovative approaches can become Larry. Project-based learning. Personalized learning. It can still begin with: “Here’s the assignment. Here’s the rubric. Here’s the deadline.” Different format. Same starting point. The system first. The learner second.

Larry isn’t evil. That’s important to say. He believes in his product. He invested time, expertise, money. Just like us. The problem isn’t the quality of the car. The problem is the timing of the offer.

Students motivation isn’t something you can force.
It’s something you connect to.

So let me leave you with three questions:

Where might you, just a little, be a Larry?
Where do you see an opportunity to start with why instead of what?
And where are you already doing that well?

Warmly,
Rob