Reflecting on the Value of Stories in Education: A Lesson from Migration

Last week, I had the privilege of facilitating a "Local to Global" workshop, focusing on migration and its human stories. We aimed to dispel myths about migration and engage young people with the

lived experiences of migrants and asylum seekers. Special guests from two community organisations joined us, sharing their work in supporting people newly arrived in the UK with legal advice, community hubs, and emotional support.

The session sparked meaningful dialogue, but one student’s comment lingered in my mind. They questioned why such topics were part of their curriculum, suggesting that exploring migration stories should be reserved for those with a specific interest, outside the classroom. This question brought me back to a fundamental challenge in education: how do we determine what knowledge is relevant and relational for our students?

As I reflected on this, I was reminded of a graphic I had seen, which suggested that what seems relevant in professional or academic circles may not resonate with young people’s lived realities. This disconnect is particularly stark when it comes to topics like migration. For educators, the challenge is not just to impart knowledge but to ensure it is meaningful—both intellectually and emotionally.

This student’s comment also prompted me to think more deeply about the power of lived stories in our curriculum, and the role of human connection in learning. Migration is not just a chapter in a textbook or a data set in an essay question; it is a profoundly human experience. Meeting individuals who have fled their homes in search of safety and community brings an entirely different dimension to understanding migration. It shifts the conversation from abstract analysis to empathy and awareness.

Migration is an issue that regularly ranks high on lists of public concerns and dominates headlines in the UK. Yet, if an A-level Geography student can question the value of hearing from people with direct experience of migration, then perhaps we need to rethink how we are teaching these topics. Are we fostering understanding, or are we merely ticking boxes?

I don’t claim to have all the answers, but one thing is clear to me: in a world increasingly defined by disconnection, exclusion, and inequality, we cannot afford to miss opportunities to create meaningful connections. Stories of migration are not just lessons for the people who tell them; they are lessons for all of us. They challenge us to confront our assumptions, broaden our perspectives, and see the world through another’s eyes.

Education, at its best, is not just about acquiring knowledge—it’s about cultivating empathy, curiosity, and a sense of shared humanity. And while we as educators can provide platforms and frameworks, we must also recognise that many stories are not ours to tell. We need to bring in voices from outside the classroom—voices that enrich, challenge, and expand our understanding. Integrating human stories into our teaching has immense value, and it is sometimes humbling to remind ourselves that there is work we still need to do to ensure that our curriculum is not only relevant, but relational; connected to the realities of the world young people live in and the communities to which they belong.

In the end, education is not just about preparing students for exams or careers. It is about preparing them to engage with the complexities of the world and to make a difference—and to do so with both compassion and understanding. That, to me, is knowledge worth pursuing.