By Jana Donovan

As students around the country prepare to kiss the summer goodbye and head back to school, they're confronted with a new problem this year: Just what sort of school will it be?

Following an overhaul of educational policy last year, students and teachers alike are a bit at sea, finding their way in a system in uneasy transition. Hana Vellánová, principal of a school in Planá nad Lužnicí near Tábor, says, "Modern time brings so much constantly changing information. It is necessary to start putting stress on bringing up people with independent minds who will be able to look for and find information rather than always just cram facts."

The changes, part of a major new law on educational policy, set in motion a nationwide move to shift from the traditional Czech or Austro-Hungarian approach of stressing rote memorization and obedience, toward a more modern, Anglo-American style that seeks to educate confident, self-sufficient adults.

Dana Janotová, a child psychiatrist, explains the reasoning behind the changes: "Our school system functions in contradiction with what we are asked for later at work — initiative and self-confidence. Our approach toward kids must change. We're marching to Europe."

Schools are set to embark on their second year under the new system. Within the program, schools are given more freedom to devise their own curricula around general guidelines provided by the state. Teachers work out their own programs, which are supposed to be flexible and interdisciplinary. African history, for instance, should also be paired with African geography and literature.

The challenge in changing is not to throw out the baby with the bath water, but to strike a balance between what Czech education has always done well: imparting solid knowledge while adopting a friendlier, inquiry-based culture.

While neither approach need preclude the other, change does not come easy. It's very much a work in progress, especially for teachers, who are forced to overhaul their approach and work more, yet receive the same poor pay.

And for parents, too. "Everybody has a different opinion about freedom," says Ivana Málková, founder of Prague 6's Škola Hrou, or Play School, one of the first alternative private schools to sprout up in the wake of the Velvet Revolution. "Sometimes I have issues with parents who don't want their kid to be as sincere as we teach him to be. Because in our society it doesn't work that way, and parents are afraid their child won't find a place in society."

Not every parent, let alone child, sees it that way. Jana Kadlečková says her inquisitive son Jakub, who is now 22, had a hard time in high school, especially after a year abroad in the United States.

"The teacher told me, 'You should smack him instead of discussing things over with him,' " the Prague real estate agent says. Later on, my son started to lie to me. When I asked him why he wasn't telling the truth, his answer was that, if he told the truth to the teacher, it was even worse."

To be sure, there is something of a tradition of Czech students complaining about their authoritarian teachers. Here, the teacher has always been considered to be right, even when what he or she says happens to be wrong.

Antonín Kotlán, a historian, says part of the Czech tradition stems from the Stalinist era. "The biggest harm was done by Soviet methods of teaching introduced in the 1950s. A student is told what to think and how to repeat that."

Sociologist Petr MatďjĚ puts it this way: "Our teachers basically required students to be sponges — to soak in an incredible amount of information and, then, during examination, to spit it out. They don't care that the students cannot actually remember much in the long term."

All that, in theory, is supposed to be phased out as educators encourage students to creatively solve problems, not toe the party line.

The changes have taxed teachers. Maligned by many, they are told that much of their approach is outdated if not plain wrong. They are compelled to work longer hours to develop innovative curricula but still earn 20,000 Kč ($910) per month on average.

Jiří RĚžička, principal at Prague's prestigious Gymnázium Jana Keplera, says he has lost many excellent teachers purely for financial reasons. A chemistry teacher had to leave the job he loved because he couldn't qualify for a mortgage after getting married. "The kind of teacher I am looking for is a good pedagogue, a personality, somebody who is open-minded and understands what he or she is doing," says RĚžička. "Such a person can easily find a better-paid job."

For those who stay, there is a tangible sense that Czech education is on the move, for better or worse. But, for the reforms to be successful, more will need to be done than simply legislating change.

Money remains the biggest obstacle. The new government, whenever it takes office, must make funding for education a top priority. That means increasing teachers' salaries in order to keep the best and the brightest in the profession.

Finally, teachers cannot be expected to change their ways without help.

Funding should also be found to provide them with professional training so that they have the tools they need to embrace the reforms. The future, as they say, belongs to our kids. But it won't truly be theirs if Czech society is not willing to make the investment.