Paulo Freire, Banking Education, And The Role Of Memorization
Paulo Freire coined the term banking education in Pedagogy of the Oppressed, first published in 1970.
His critique was not only about a classroom method, but about how education can either reinforce existing power structures or help students become more fully human. In many cases, the banking model has been most visible in schools serving students from working-class and marginalized communities, where teaching often emphasizes compliance, recall, and quiet efficiency over inquiry and critical thought. Freire, however, saw the pattern as a broader structural problem, not limited to a single group, a point we explore further in our overview of Paulo Freire.
As I understand it, banking education describes a form of schooling where teachers “deposit” information into students, who are expected to store and reproduce it on command. Content is delivered from the front of the room, usually through lecture and rote memorization, with little expectation that students will question, challenge, or transform what they are given. Freire helps us see how this seemingly ordinary pattern can shape not only academic outcomes, but identities and futures.
What Is Cognitive Independence?
Cognitive independence refers to an individual’s ability to think, reason, and make decisions autonomously.
It involves the development of critical thinking skills that allow a person to evaluate information, arguments, and evidence rather than simply accept them. A cognitively independent learner is not satisfied with memorizing answers; they want to know how and why things work the way they do.
Cognitive independence also includes the capacity to engage in reflective and self-directed thought processes. It is connected to how we monitor our own thinking, adjust our strategies, and learn from mistakes—what we might call metacognition. Over time, this independence supports personal growth, academic success, and professional development, helping individuals navigate complex situations with more confidence and creativity.
Banking education works against this kind of independence. Each time a teacher meets with students, the teacher “deposits” into their minds (the bank). This pedagogical approach does not help students develop the ability to read texts deeply, make connections, or challenge assumptions. Instead, it teaches them to accept information provided by authority figures without question and store it for later use. Students become “productive” members of society by producing what those in power want and, often unknowingly, helping to perpetuate the status quo.
Confidence And Critical Thinking
As a youth, I grew up in a working-class family and attended public schools in a large metropolitan area.
Until I reached high school, my educational experience was poor at best. School was something to endure, not a place where I was invited to think. I was, in many ways, a textbook example of a student living inside a banking model.
High school changed that. I was fortunate to encounter teachers who asked me to think for myself and insisted that I would get nowhere in life if I couldn’t do so. They did not simply tell me what to believe; they asked what I thought and why. It took many years after high school for me to feel truly confident in my critical thinking ability, but the process started there.
Looking to the teacher or other authority figures for answers was so ingrained in my psyche that it felt normal. I remember the moment that pattern cracked. My college mentor turned to me in his office and asked, “When are you going to grow up and start thinking for yourself, Heather?” His face was red with the effort of imploring me to stop letting others control me. He was not upset with my performance in class; he was upset with recent decisions that revealed I could not yet make decisions for myself.
That moment hurt, but it was also a turning point. It pushed me to put into practice the kind of thinking I had admired in others but rarely claimed for myself. I began to see how deeply I had internalized the role of a compliant student, one who waited for directions instead of examining her own beliefs and choices.
Situations like the one described above are, in my opinion, why Freire railed against banking education. Those who rely on this approach exercise an extraordinary degree of control over other human beings by controlling their thoughts and the limits of what they are allowed to question. I could not agree more with his concern. My moment with my mentor was painful, but it was also the moment I began to step out of that pattern of obedience.
If I had continued along the path of the ever-obedient, I might have become a vocal critic of banking education without ever examining my own assumptions. Instead, I’m more interested in a complicated, less comfortable position: recognizing how harmful banking education can be while also acknowledging that some of the tools associated with it can be used well.
Can Banking Education Tools Be Used Well?
I believe banking education is a pedagogical style worth examining—not because we should adopt it as a philosophy, but because some of its tools can serve a different vision of learning.
Placed in the hands of highly qualified teachers who see students as thinkers, not containers, those tools can help students master the knowledge and skills they need to develop cognitive independence. We cannot simply run from practices that have been in place for years because we learned that some people used them to control, sort, or silence students. Tools like direct explanation, structured practice, or even timed recall do not belong exclusively to any one philosophy of teaching. The deeper question is how they are used and toward what purpose.
Put another way, we cannot blame the tools.
Rote Memorization
There are times when memorization is not only useful but necessary.
Facts like multiplication tables, prepositions, and high-frequency academic language form the mental “automaticity” students need to move on to more complex thinking. Without a foundation of instantly retrievable knowledge, students often become overloaded and unable to meaningfully engage with higher-level tasks. As we’ve written about in our overview of memorization, this isn’t a debate about whether students should think or memorize. It’s a reminder that thinking becomes harder when essential knowledge isn’t fluent.
A former colleague once explained it perfectly to her students: “When you don’t have to think about the basics, your mind is free to focus on the real work.” Students weren’t convinced at the time, but I was. Memorizing multiplication facts or prepositions wasn’t oppressive; it was liberating. It meant I didn’t have to burn cognitive energy on 9×7 when the task in front of me required reasoning, problem-solving, or interpretation.
Of course, memorization alone doesn’t create understanding. Students also need opportunities to connect, apply, critique, and extend what they know. But abandoning memorization entirely—simply because some educators misused it—leaves many students without the foundational knowledge they need to thrive. This balance echoes the principles behind cognitive constructivism: students construct meaning, but they do so on top of prior knowledge. Fluency and foundation are not the enemies of thinking; they are its preconditions.
In that spirit, memorizing core lists, dates, essential vocabulary, and even the occasional poem remains part of an education that values both knowledge and the ability to use it. When students can recall what matters without hesitation, they can engage more fully in analysis, inquiry, and the kind of reflective thinking described in our exploration of metacognition. Memorization isn’t a rejection of understanding—it’s one of the paths toward it.
Lectures
I (strongly) dislike lectures.
They are boring. To retain the information I heard in lectures in college, I often carried a recorder so I could listen again later and type the information word-for-word, stopping when I needed to process something I did not understand. It was ingrained in me to accept that I was to be a passive recipient of information, and I often felt inadequate because I could not be that vessel into which a teacher poured their knowledge. I was not a good parrot, and I realize now that my subconscious was screaming at me not to accept everything the teacher said as absolute truth.
That said, the lecture, as a tool, is not a technique that should be immediately discarded. Again, the problem is not with the tool, but with how it is used. In many K–12 classrooms, teachers use short, focused explanations to provide information students need before they can read a text, practice a concept, or experiment. When combined with opportunities to discuss, question, and apply ideas—what we might recognize in aspects of social learning theory and social learning—lecture becomes one part of a larger, more active learning process.
In higher education, however, lectures are still often used as the main mode of information delivery for large classes. Students listen, take notes, and prepare for exams that reward accurate recall more than thoughtful engagement. In those cases, lectures can drift back toward the banking model Freire critiqued: the teacher narrates; students store. Little in the structure invites them to question, connect, or co-create.
Using Banking Education Tools As Step One
If we use rote memorization and lectures as part of step one in any unit, we can use them well.
They can help students gather the language, facts, and background knowledge they need so that subsequent work can focus on interpretation, critique, problem-solving, and creation. We are advocating against educational methods that are not democratic and for methods that allow students to flourish. That flourishing is academic, cognitive, and relational; it overlaps with what we might call social-emotional learning when students experience classrooms as places where their thinking and their humanity are taken seriously.
When we use the tools of banking education as a first step rather than a final destination, we are helping students collect the necessary tools and learn how to use them almost instinctively. The goal is not quiet compliance but growing confidence and independence.
What Teachers Make
I leave you with a portion of one of my favorite poems and ask if you agree that Taylor Mali understands what it takes to truly educate another human being.
“You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you’ve got this,
then you follow this,
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this.”
References
Freire, P. (1972). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Herder and Herder.
Mali, T. (2002). “What Teachers Make.” In What Learning Leaves. Newtown, CT: Hanover Press. (ISBN: 1-887012-17-6)