No matter how much you like your local school teacher, he or she

Hear the solemn warning of Nancy Pearcey, who declared: “No matter how much you like your local school teacher, he or she is a government agent.” At first hearing, this may sound harsh, even unjust, for the teacher is often gentle, devoted, and kind. Yet Pearcey unveils a deeper truth: that beyond the affection we feel for the individual lies the larger power that shapes the mission of their work. The school teacher, however noble in heart, does not act alone, but under the authority of the state, bound by its rules, its curriculum, and its vision for the shaping of young minds.

This truth must be grasped as one grasps the double edge of a sword. On one edge is the kindness of the teacher—the warm smile, the words of encouragement, the guiding hand upon the shoulder of the young. On the other edge is the power of the government, which decides what shall be taught, what truths may be spoken, and what truths must be silenced. Thus, the child, though looking upon the face of one he trusts, may unknowingly be receiving the message of a system that stretches far beyond the classroom walls.

History itself speaks in echoes of this reality. Recall the days of Sparta, where young boys were not taught merely by their elders, but by the city itself. The teachers were instruments of the state, instilling discipline, obedience, and loyalty to Sparta above all else. The mothers of Sparta might embrace their children at birth, but once the state claimed them, their teachers were no longer family but soldiers in the great machine of the polis. The young grew strong, but their hearts and minds belonged to the state before they belonged to themselves.

Or look to more recent times, to the schools of totalitarian regimes. In Nazi Germany, in Soviet Russia, in Mao’s China, the teachers were often kind men and women, devoted to their pupils. Yet they were still the voices of the government, compelled to pass on doctrines, to shape children into citizens of the state before they could become free individuals. Here is the warning Pearcey gives us: love your teacher, yes, but do not forget the larger power that directs their task.

This is not a call to despise teachers—indeed, many resist the hand of authority, and seek to bless their students with wisdom beyond the rigid lines of state decree. Yet one must remain awake, discerning the difference between the kindness of the person and the influence of the system. For to forget this difference is to surrender one’s mind too easily, to mistake the voice of the state for the voice of the mentor, to let authority slip into the sanctuary of trust without question.

Therefore, O seekers of wisdom, take this lesson: do not place blind faith in any system, no matter how benevolent it seems. Honor the teacher for their care, but test the knowledge they deliver. Weigh it against reason, conscience, and truth. Recognize that education is never neutral—it always carries the imprint of those who rule. The wise student does not swallow every word as honey but discerns, chews, and separates what is nourishing from what is poison.

The counsel is this: cultivate independence of thought. Read widely, beyond what the state prescribes. Discuss with elders, seek truth in history, test all claims. Parents, take up your role as the first teachers of your children, and do not abandon that sacred duty to the state. And teachers themselves, though bound by laws, may choose to awaken young minds to question, to think, and to see beyond the veil.

For in the end, Pearcey’s words are not meant to sow fear, but vigilance. To see the teacher both as a friend and as a voice of the government is to see with clear eyes. To learn is noble, but to learn without discernment is dangerous. Therefore guard your minds, guard your children, and remember always: even the kindest messenger may carry the message of a greater power, and it is wisdom—not blind trust—that secures freedom.