Exploring Finnish Happiness and Education Through the Loring Award

By: Amanda Berg, Upper School English Teacher and English Department Chair

Finland has long been ranked the “happiest country in the world” and similarly celebrated for a globally top-ranked education system. With the support of the Loring Award travel grant, I wanted to understand what made this nation so special. In March of 2026, I packed my warm clothes and took my family with me to explore the culture, people, and education system of Finland.

I registered for a teacher shadowing experience organized by VisitEduFinn in Helsinki. For three days, I would be immersed in a school forty minutes outside of the city center. Helsinki is a city of wide boulevards, massive squares, and some of the world’s most famous modern architecture. Our Airbnb was in the Kamppi region, close to many historical and cultural sites. As my family settled into our top-floor apartment, I studied the map and public transportation system. The school where I was placed, Perkkan Koulu, enrolls 640 students in grades 1 through 9. That Monday morning, I had the first-day-of-school jitters. I walked fifteen minutes in the cold morning air to Central Station, hopped on the A line train to Leppavaara, and found the 502 bus that dropped me directly in front of a newly built, yellow brick building that would be my school away from school for the next three days. Buzzed through the sparkling glass doors, I was immediately struck by a prominent “No Shoes” sign. Like many in Finland, this school was shoeless. I took off my boots (and congratulated myself on wearing socks with no holes) and found my way to the faculty room, where I was greeted by my host teacher, Leena, and made our way to her classroom. I quickly learned that it is standard practice in Finland for students to call their teachers by their first names. I also heard students say "Ope," a common, friendly shorthand for opettaja (teacher). 

The classroom setup was traditional: rows of white desks and chairs on wheels facing the front wall, which was covered by a whiteboard and a projector screen and a map of the world. Students filed in as I marveled that they were all in socks. They were chatty and boisterous, but settled quickly, pulling out their English text and pencil cases. Over my three days, I observed multiple English classes, a couple of Finnish classes, and a history class. A lovely seventh grader gave me a tour of the school. She was originally from Ecuador, but had lived in Finland for five years. She spoke 5 languages: Spanish, Portuguese, Finnish, Swedish, and English. The diversity of this school, intermingled with a few platinum blondes, was something that struck me. There were students from Estonia, Russia, Romania, Somalia, Morocco, and Pakistan, to name a few. As I sat at a lunch table with five students, one of the eighth-grade girls told me that in her class of 23, there were only 6 native Finns. The girls all agreed that they loved this diversity. They argued with pride over the number of languages spoken by students at the school, with estimates ranging from 45-75. 

One thing these eighth graders all agreed on was that they wished Swedish were an optional language, not mandatory. A national curriculum reform moved the learning of Swedish from seventh grade to sixth. The Finnish system requires students to learn two languages in addition to their mother tongue: the other national language, Swedish, plus a foreign language elective, with the majority opting for English. I also found it fascinating that by law, a Finnish public school must provide religious instruction. At Perkkan Koulu, there were classes in Islam and Lutheran Christianity. If a student does not belong to a religious community, or if their specific religion isn't represented, they take Ethics. This is a non-religious, philosophical course that covers human rights, different worldviews, and critical thinking. As Finland becomes more secular, the number of students choosing Ethics is steadily rising.

Crafts and Home Economics are two mandatory classes that set Finnish education apart from other systems. Unlike Art class here, Finnish students must all take Crafts in addition to Visual Art. Crafts are a core pillar of the national identity. Finns take immense pride in being a "nation of builders." Even if a student grows up to be a software engineer, the system believes they should know how a dovetail joint works or how to fix a blown fuse. It’s about "Käden taito"—the skill of the hand. This is similar to what happens in the ILab here at Shore. By the time they graduate ninth grade, many young Finns can build a piece of furniture or wire a lamp.

Home Economics (Kotitalous) is a class where the theory of "adulting" becomes a mandatory, graded subject. While Crafts is about building, Home Economics is about managing a life. It is a mandatory subject for all students (regardless of gender) usually in the seventh grade, and it remains one of the most popular electives in the eighth and ninth grades. The students explained that this is the class that teaches them everything about how to run a home. A common highlight is the final practical exam. The students must plan, cook, and serve a multi-course meal to a "guest" (often another teacher or the principal), while keeping their kitchen clean and costs under budget.

In Finland, students are prepared for the weather all year long. There are required 15-minute breaks after each lesson for the younger students, and for the older students, a 5-minute passing time between classes. The icy snowpack on the recess yard didn’t stop the younger students from a full-fledged soccer game. The youngest students all wear a one-piece snowsuit called a haalari.  Finnish teachers believe kids should be outside regardless of the temperature. The haalari exemplifies the famous Nordic saying: "There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing." Fresh, cold air is important for even the youngest Finns. While off on his own adventure with the kids, my husband snapped a picture of an unattended stroller parked on the sidewalk, with a baby napping while mom shopped inside. This is a normal practice in many Nordic countries, with a longstanding cultural belief that exposure to cold air strengthens a child's resistance to illness. This outdoor napping is also made possible because parents feel safe doing it, which comes back to trust in other Finns and their society. 

In Finland, teaching is a highly respected profession. Every teacher must hold a Master’s degree, and teacher training programs are incredibly competitive. Teachers have great autonomy; while there is a national curriculum, teachers are trusted to teach it freely. I think one of the reasons this is such a happy country is due to the high level of social trust. I witnessed this on the trains, in the school, on the streets, and in the Finnish saunas. Speaking of saunas, this is an aspect of Finnish culture that sets it apart from ours. After a long day at work, the sauna serves as a meditative space to unwind, unplug, and reset. I enjoyed not only the private saunas in each of our apartment stays, but the public saunas as well.  After the heat enveloped my whole body for as long as I could bear, I dipped into the icy Baltic Sea, only to repeat the cycle until my mind and body reached ultimate clarity and relaxation. Like the cold plunge, my immersion into Finnish life, culture, and education felt brief, and I hope to return to further explore their secrets to happiness. What I can take away from this experience and bring back into my class and the Shore community as a whole is the confidence in the elements of our curriculum that mirror the highly successful ingredients in the Finnish education system: autonomy in the classroom within a shared framework; two recesses a day; lessons on how to live a healthy life, socially, emotionally, and physically; and hands-on experience with the design thinking process. I feel incredibly lucky to work at a school that has already figured out how to help kids thrive and be the best version of themselves. 

Established in 1995, the Loring Award honors the service and board leadership of the late Caleb Loring, Jr. (Board President, 1961–1964) and his son, Caleb Loring III ’59 (Board President, 1983–1987). The award provides annual travel support for faculty professional development.