It was the second time I visited a temporary museum in Raleigh, a major city in North Carolina, south of Washington, D.C. The visit was primarily meant to be an educational experience for an eight-year-old girl I happen to know intimately. She displayed an unusual curiosity, but what interested me even more was the manner in which both young and elderly people, high school children and experts, seemed extraordinarily keen to tell children about the insects on display.
The little girl was surprisingly eager to find out how the insects lived, how many legs they had, whether they were poisonous if they bit you, and so on. And to each of her questions, those sitting across the tables not only answered but demonstrated their explanations with live insects. A few of the insects were sitting on their hands, and on two occasions, they were made to move onto her little hands. She took them in her hands curiously, watching as they moved.
Since I had not seen such an educational museum anywhere in India, including in my own city, Ahmedabad, where children and their parents could be informally introduced to such subjects with that kind of passion, I became curious about how such temporary museums survive.
Education, especially education for children, seemed to be treated as a high priority in the U.S.—not just inside schools but outside them as well. In very green parks, where families and children came for picnics amid the woods, I noticed signs displaying the names of plants and trees. There appeared to be a conscious effort to turn everyday surroundings into opportunities for learning.
I am writing all this because, some time ago, I had heard and read that the current US government had come down heavily on public spending, including spending on education. I was also told that some states had resisted the move by trying to compensate for cuts in federal funding for public education.
I had seen the same temporary museum of bugs two years ago. This time, I heard some parents complaining that the quality was not as good as what they had seen in a previous year.
The last time I visited, the sweet little girl was six and showed an equally keen interest in the exhibits. I remember seeing stalls about insects even outside the main hall. This time, much of the area seemed to have been taken over by very young children putting up stalls, with their elders sitting nearby. They were selling all sorts of things—juice, beads, toys made with three-dimensional printers, scented soaps and other items.
Each child wore a T-shirt prominently displaying the word "Entrepreneur."
"They are learning to be independent entrepreneurs. That's very important," someone remarked.
Was I seeing a change in US policy on the ground?
I tried to look into it by examining publicly available information. My apprehension had stemmed from what I had been told: that federal education budgets had been cut drastically.
I was only partially right.
The federal education budget does not directly explain changes in the quality of exhibits at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences, which is home to downtown Raleigh's major arthropod collections and its annual BugFest event.
The museum is an agency of the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, rather than the Department of Public Instruction or local public school districts. Its baseline operating support comes through state appropriations, private foundation support and specialized grants, rather than from standard federal K–12 education budgets.
K–12—pronounced "K through twelve"—is a term used primarily in the United States and Canada to describe the complete span of primary and secondary education, from kindergarten through the 12th grade.
So what visitors perceive as a change in the quality of a particular year's event may have less to do with federal education cuts and more to do with operational and programming factors.
Two years ago, when I attended BugFest—the museum's massive annual one-day festival held every September—the experience was different. Crowds, vendors and activities change from year to year, sometimes around a new theme. Such changes can have a significant impact on wait times, noise levels and the way exhibits are arranged and experienced.
There is, however, a larger education story unfolding in North Carolina and across the United States.
In North Carolina, state lawmakers have increased overall general-fund investment in public education, even as the education system faces cuts in federal funding. Much of that additional spending has been directed towards areas such as teacher pay, literacy programs, classroom technology and school safety, rather than necessarily towards museum outreach programmes.
At the same time, public confidence in traditional educational institutions appears to have weakened. Long-running polling by Gallup has shown that satisfaction with the quality of US K–12 public education has remained relatively low compared with earlier periods. Yet this does not mean that Americans have lost interest in education. Strong majorities continue to regard education—particularly early childhood and K–12 education—as important to economic mobility and the well-being of communities.
Perhaps the interest in children learning has not declined. What has increased is anxiety about whether schools are meeting the standard expected of them.
This raises a question that is relevant to India as well.
Families in the U.S. appear to be directing increasing attention and resources towards educational experiences beyond the conventional classroom. Data from the National Center for Education Statistics and other surveys show that homeschooling increased sharply during the pandemic and, although it has declined from its peak, remains an important part of the educational landscape in many places. Families also increasingly supplement conventional schooling with after-school tutoring and other forms of enrichment.
Another concern is absenteeism. Research by education institutions and state departments has shown that chronic absenteeism—generally defined as missing 10 percent or more of school days—rose sharply after 2020. Researchers have pointed to several contributing factors, including student mental-health difficulties, family financial pressures and changing attitudes towards illness and school attendance.
The teaching profession, too, has faced significant pressures, including shortages in specialised areas such as special education, STEM and bilingual education. Such shortages can affect the range and quality of programmes available to students.
And this brings me back to that little temporary museum in Raleigh.
What struck me was not merely the insects. It was the enthusiasm of the people explaining them to children. It was the willingness to let a child hold a living creature, ask questions and discover something for herself.
The museum may be temporary. The insects may change. The stalls may be different from one year to the next. But the larger idea is much more permanent: children learn not only in classrooms, but wherever adults are willing to create opportunities for curiosity.
Perhaps that is what I found most interesting in Raleigh.
Interest in educating children remains strong. But faith in public education appears to be under strain, leading families to look for learning across a much wider mix of public, private, community and informal settings.
Quite in line with what is happening back home in India?
I don't know.
But perhaps that is a question worth asking.
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