By: Nicole Assisi
Sometimes the most profound insights about education come from the most unexpected places. Last week, I was 8,000 miles from California in Stanley, Falkland Islands, a tiny capital in the South Atlantic and a British Overseas Territory (UK Commonwealth), thousands of miles from anywhere. The remoteness is real: ocean in every direction and a community that has learned to make distance work for them.
Our family had come for the wildlife (penguins, albatross, sea lions) because the Falklands are a world-class spot for it. But, true to form, I couldn’t help myself. Whether I’m in Alaska, Luxembourg, Brazil or Morocco, I never miss a chance to learn how local schools work, just call me a “global school explorer!”
On my trip to Stanley, I met Sarah (name changed for privacy), a product of the Falkland Islands school system, who now has two children navigating that same system, but in completely different ways. Her 11-year-old son lives with his aunt in Stanley and boards at the district-provided Stanley Boarding House during the school week to attend the brick-and-mortar Falkland Islands Community School. Her 9-year-old daughter stays home on their farm and learns through what locals call “Camp Education”: a blend of traveling teachers, phone-based lessons, and technology-supported learning that reaches students across the islands’ rugged terrain.
“It’s not about one being better than the other,” Sarah told me as she reflected on her daughter’s video call doing science lessons from their kitchen table. “It’s about what works for each kid.”
That simple statement captures something profound that we often miss in American education: true student-centered design isn’t about having every option under one roof: it’s about having the right option for each child, even if that means thinking creatively about delivery.
When Geography Forces Innovation
The Falkland Islands didn’t choose to innovate their education system: they had to. With a population of just 3,400 people scattered across islands a bit larger than Connecticut, traditional “one-size-fits-all” schooling simply isn’t possible. So they built something different.
The Falkland Education system serves children living outside Stanley through multiple pathways:
- Settlement (or as they call it “camp”) schools in remote places like Fox Bay and Goose Green with multiage classes
- Traveling teachers who stay with farm families for weeks at a time
- Distance learning supported by phone and internet connections
- The option to board at Stanley House to attend school in town – typically starting around Year 5 (age 9-10) and continuing through their GCSEs (UK assessement of mastery of learning at the end of 11th grade)
- Study abroad to finish 12th grade (or A-Levels) paid for by the government for “promising scholars” who have minimum grades on GCSEs
Before you recoil at the thought of 9-year-olds boarding away from home or 16 year olds moving abroad, consider Sarah’s perspective: “My son loves it. He gets to be with friends all week, and we have quality time together on weekends. It allows us to tend to our farm and him to focus on school work. It’s not separation: it’s expansion.”
While boarding or sending students abroad isn’t realistic for most American small schools, the underlying principle is powerful: sometimes excellent education means thinking beyond your district boundaries. Could small districts create shared residential programs for specialized learning? Exchange programs between rural and urban schools? Summer institutes that bring students together from across a region?
What struck me wasn’t just the logistics: it was the mindset. Nobody in the Falklands talks about their rural kids as “disadvantaged” or their distance learning as “second-best.” They’ve created a system where flexibility equals excellence, not compromise.
Lessons from the Edge
After working with small districts across California, including rural mountain communities like Long Valley or Kernville, I see clear parallels between what the Falklands does naturally and what our most innovative small schools are fighting to achieve.
1. Multiage Learning as Strength, Not Limitation
In settlement schools across the Falklands, multiage classrooms aren’t a budget constraint: they’re pedagogical gold. Older students mentor younger ones, creating natural leadership opportunities. Teachers design projects that allow different grade levels to contribute at their developmental level.
Compare this to small California districts that apologize for their K-8 schools or combined classrooms. What if, like the Falklands, we positioned these arrangements as intentional community-building rather than economic necessities?
2. Teacher Expertise Over Teacher Proximity
All Falkland Islands teachers are often trained in the UK, ensuring high-quality instruction despite geographic remoteness. They prioritize bringing expert teaching to students rather than expecting students to somehow access expertise they don’t have locally.
Small districts often struggle with this same challenge: how do you provide specialized instruction with limited staff? The Falklands model suggests focusing on fewer, highly qualified teachers who can serve students in multiple modalities rather than trying to staff every specialty in every building.
3. Technology as a Bridge, Not a Replacement
Sarah’s daughter doesn’t just “do school online.” Her distance learning includes phone calls with teachers, hands-on science kits shipped to the farm, and video sessions with classmates in Stanley. Technology connects her to expert instruction and peer relationships: it doesn’t replace them.
This hybrid approach feels light-years ahead of the “emergency remote learning” many small schools defaulted to during COVID. The Falklands prove that thoughtful blended learning can create rich educational experiences, not watered-down alternatives.
What This Means for California’s Small Schools
The Falklands offer a clear lesson: small systems don’t have to imitate big ones to deliver excellence. As a global school explorer, I’ve seen again and again that small schools can shine by being different by treating constraints as design prompts, not defects.
This is educational leadership in action: set a clear purpose, align people and routines to that purpose, and communicate the tradeoffs you’re choosing on purpose. Strategic planning in small systems isn’t a 60-page document; it’s a shared plan that helps every adult know what matters most this year and what can wait. And real organizational transformation shows up in the daily schedule, staffing patterns, and use of technology where values meet logistics.
Here’s what that shift can look like:
From “We can’t offer everything” to “We offer exactly what our students need.”
Own a few high-quality pathways and make them great, like the Falklands’ tailored in-town, distance, and boarding options.
From “Mixed grades are a compromise” to “Multiage builds community.”
Use multiage learning to grow leadership, mentoring, and belonging on purpose.
From “We’re isolated” to “We’re connected differently.”
Let technology and regional partnerships extend expertise without erasing local relationships.
From “a collection of programs” to “a coherent system.”
Fewer initiatives, better aligned schedules, staffing, and PD all pulling in the same direction.
A few practical moves for leaders of small districts and charters:
- Name your learner profile: what every graduate should know and be able to do. Let it drive course offerings and staffing.
- Design a one-page strategic plan: three priorities, three measures that matter, and routines to check progress monthly.
- Invest in adult learning: build teacher leadership teams that steward multiage practices and blended learning.
- Measure what matters: student growth, belonging, and real work, not just the number of courses or programs on a flyer.
This slow, steady work is the kind of work that sticks after leadership changes. It’s also the work that lets small systems be proudly, effectively small.
Small by Design: Ruralness as a Feature
In places like the Falklands, small and rural isn’t a liability; it’s the design brief. Ruralness is a feature, not a bug. Flexibility is a feature, not a bug. Sarah’s family lives this every day: one child thrives in town with peers and labs; the other learns from home with traveling teachers, real materials, and strong relationships. That range of options isn’t an accident; it’s educational leadership choosing clarity over clutter.
When systems are small, strategic planning can be simple and powerful: a shared purpose, a few priorities, and the routines to make them real. You feel it in the schedule, bus routes, and where teachers spend their time. Organizational transformation doesn’t come from a big binder; it shows up in how the day actually runs.
A few patterns from the Falklands that transfer well to rural California:
- Make the tradeoffs visible. If you invest in multiage projects, say so and protect time for it.
- Design instructional design around context. Use kit-based science, fieldwork, and video to connect kids without flattening the local experience.
- Use small to move fast. Pilot first (one class, two weeks), learn with families, then scale what works.
- Share expertise across distance. One great specialist can reach many sites with a blend of travel and virtual touchpoints.
This is the quiet power of small systems: decisions happen close to kids, with feedback loops that are short and honest. Done well, ruralness gives you permission to build exactly what your community needs and nothing it doesn’t.
A Different Kind of Excellence
As I flew back to California, I kept thinking about Sarah’s contentment with her children’s very different educational paths. In a culture obsessed with ranking schools and comparing options, she’d found something rare: confidence that her kids were getting exactly what they needed.
That’s not an accident. The Falklands system works because it starts with students and families, not administrative convenience. It prioritizes outcomes over inputs. It treats diversity of approach as strength, not inconsistency.
Small schools and rural districts aren’t “behind” the educational curve: they’re often ahead of it, forced by necessity to innovate around what matters most: knowing each child deeply and designing learning that fits.
The question isn’t whether your small school can compete with comprehensive high schools in the next district over. The question is whether you’re designing educational experiences that no large system could replicate: personalized, relationship-rich, and responsive to your specific community’s needs and strengths.
Sometimes the best view of where education is headed comes from the edge of the world, where necessity meets creativity and produces something genuinely excellent. The Falkland Islands reminds us that small doesn’t mean limited: it means focused, flexible, and fundamentally human.
And in a world of increasing educational complexity, maybe that’s exactly the kind of innovation we need.
Dr. Nicole Assisi is a multicultural and multilingual leader whose decades in education reflect an immense depth and breadth of experience. She has been a teacher, professor, principal, and superintendent. Her schools were named among the most innovative in the nation and received a CA Senate Commendation. As a business leader and entrepreneur, Dr. Assisi secured millions of dollars in philanthropic funding to support high quality, innovative education for thousands of students. San Diego Business Journal recognized her as a “40 under 40” leader and a finalist for CEO of the Year.
