A Tale of Two Systems: US vs UK Education

By: Sophie Lu

Illustration By: Sylvain Chan

In elementary school, I recall receiving a worksheet asking students to consider how their life trajectories might look—the classic ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Over time, my answer evolved from “chemist” (what my parents were) to “marine biologist” (that niche profession every kid seems to like) to “lawyer” (a result of people’s exasperation with my arguing).

These early inclinations turned out to have little bearing on my current studies in Business Analytics and Political Science. But it raises a question: At what stage of life is it acceptable to ask someone to choose—to eliminate possibilities for their future based on how they perceive themselves in the present? And how does the approach to this question differ on either side of the Atlantic?

In primary school, both the US and UK education systems focus on building foundational knowledge in core subjects, notably maths and English. However, secondary school demarcates the first divergence. British secondary schools follow the General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) program, where students study five to twelve subjects for two years, sitting exams around age 16. Compulsory subjects include English, mathematics, and science, while students select additional courses from the arts, humanities, languages and technology.

Following GCSEs, students continue formal education until age 18, either through technical education or ‘sixth form’, where they undergo A-levels or equivalents like the International Baccalaureate (IB). A-level students typically choose three subjects that dominate their final pre-university years, determining eligibility for university courses. In this way, by the time students apply to university, much of their path has already been decided.

In contrast, secondary school students in the United States remain generalists for the entirety of middle and high school, completing core subjects and electives. High school students can take Advanced Placement (AP) classes, the functional equivalent of A-levels, and can select as many as they wish; however, the availability and variety of AP classes depends on the high school, with larger, wealthier schools often offering more APs. Earning a sufficient score on AP exams can transfer to college credit, allowing students to bypass certain courses at university. 

Hence, the US system allows students to defer specialisation. While UK students apply directly to specific undergraduate programs with the same personal statement tailored to their subject, American students can apply without declaring a major, to different majors at different schools, and switch majors later with relative ease. British students are limited to five university choices, whereas US students have no maximum, though most submit six to twelve applications.

Once at university, UK students typically study only their chosen subject, with minimal space allocated for exploration. In contrast, American universities often implement “General Education” (GenEd) requirements outside of a student’s major, which usually comprise a combination of six to ten arts, humanities, ethics, science, and maths courses.

On average, American students spend much longer in higher education: the majority of UK undergraduate degrees are three years long, compared to four in the US. Moreover, students at UK universities can study law or medicine directly after sixth form, while US students must first complete a bachelor’s degree in a different subject.

Ultimately, a picture emerges of two systems that are not only different practically, but also philosophically: the UK system prioritizes mastery and early specialization, while the US values exploration and well-roundedness. 

But which system is better? Does flexibility benefit students prior to choosing a career, or guidance and commitment to a field of study? Reflecting upon the role of their educational upbringing in their academic, career, and personal trajectories, LSE students had mixed opinions.

William Goltz, a third-year History student, chose to do A-levels in History, English, and French.

“At the time I enjoyed it because it allowed me to focus on what I was good at. The tough part came when I had to apply to university…because I essentially decided between History, English, or French. I almost did French and I wonder what my life would have been like…because that would’ve affected the university that I’ve gone to.”

For some, the funnel of the British education system leaves far fewer options at its end, which can feel limiting if students’ interests evolve.

“I thought I was ready at the time. But I was kind of stuck doing History…Now that I’m getting to the end and realised I don’t want to be a historian, the fact that I had to specialise so much—it’s a bit frustrating,” adds William.

One alternative to A-levels is the IB program (also available in the US), prioritizing interdisciplinary education, with students taking six subjects as opposed to three.

One first-year History student who did the IB noted, “Even though I hate chemistry and would’ve rather not taken it, I’m still glad I was forced to take it until graduating high school. If I had dropped it at 16, I wouldn’t know some of that basic knowledge.”

IB seems to tow the line between focus and exploration well, but it is an opportunity many in either country do not have. Most US schools do not offer the IB, and those in the UK that do are geographically and financially inaccessible to many because only independent schools offer the programme, excluding those who are not economically advantaged. 

For students uncertain about their future, the US system’s flexibility is advantageous. Ava Rumsey, an American exchange student at LSE from Georgia Southern University majoring in Political Science, reflected, “At [16], I would have picked performing arts…one year prior, I would have picked nursing. So not at all in the same realm where I’m at.”

However, there are also drawbacks to the extreme discretion American students are afforded.

“[B]y the time you get into college, you know what you like for sure because in high school they make you take a lot of general stuff as well. Your whole first year that you’re paying for is not necessarily what you would like to be taking. So I can understand arguments for why it might be beneficial, but overall I find it more of a nuisance,” said Ava.

Furthermore, while the interdisciplinary nature of GenEd classes is often touted, the effectiveness of these requirements in fostering genuine intellectual curiosity is questionable.

“Some have capitalised on it, but for the most part, people just take what’s easiest,” Ava notes.

Arguably, although UK degrees are more specialised, because students spend less time in class, they still have flexibility for exploration—just independently instead of in a structured academic setting.

William, a guitarist in a band, credits his extracurricular involvement to the freer schedule. “I would not be able to do music as much if I were at university in America. In Britain, because you have more free time, there’s an expectation that you do other things.”

From student perspectives, it seems the grass may be greener regardless of one’s starting point.

But these differences prompt a larger question: What is the purpose of education? Is it preparation for specific careers or fostering intellectual growth?

In the age of universities prioritising employability, it is easy to see the importance of STEM students taking humanities classes, and vice versa. We should want our future doctors and engineers to have a robust grasp of humanity and ethics, and our future politicians and historians to be empirical and analytical.

Equally, economic realities complicate this vision. When the average cost of US-based higher education has ballooned to $55,840 annually at private universities, the extra year of GenEds with little relation to one’s major becomes much more difficult to justify for those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds.

While existing systems can be improved, engineering one that complements every individual learning style and educational path is difficult. Both have their relative strengths and weaknesses, and neither completely circumvents factors like parental/environmental influence, class and privilege, or simply changing minds.

University, while certainly impactful, only comprises a fraction of an educational and professional life. Career paths are seldom linear—many professionals’ degrees bear little relation to their current jobs, and often discovery of new passions doesn’t occur through systematic exploration, but simply serendipitous discovery. 

Ultimately, the educational systems we are brought up in serve as guardrails that guide us, but upon graduation the possibilities are wide open and the choice is ours.

Sophie comparatively examines the different processes of specialisation in the education system in the United Kingdom and United States, tracking students' experiences and the factors which contribute to the successes and shortfalls of each system, ultimately seeking to answer whether education should prioritise preparation for careers or genuine intellectual growth.

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