On a recent visit to the RSC, I bought a CD recording of the original Broadway cast. Last weekend it was on loop as we drove to Dartmoor, and back, to celebrate a family birthday. A definite improvement on her previous favourite, ‘Sing-Along Disney Princesses’!

What struck me as we drove, apart from just how many times a four-year-old can listen to the same songs without tiring, was that it is not simply Matilda’s intelligence that sets her apart, but her curiosity, curiosity that is a stark contrast to the certainty of the adults in her life.

Australian comedian Tim Minchin’s musical is packed with clever wordplay and memorable songs: Naughty, When I Grow Up, Quiet and Revolting Children. But my two favourites sung by Matilda’s parents, the odious Mr and Mrs Wormwood, didn’t even make the film adaptation. They always make me stop and think. They are sharp, satirical and relevant.

Mr and Mrs Wormwood are, of course, caricatures. They are deliberately absurd. But satire works precisely because it contains an uncomfortable truth. The Wormwoods are not foolish because they lack information: they are foolish because they lack curiosity. They are proud of not thinking too deeply, suspicious of education, and dismissive of anyone who questions them. We laugh at them, but we also recognise something familiar.

In Telly, Mr Wormwood proudly declares:

All I know I learned from telly
The bigger the telly, the smarter the man!
You can tell from my big telly
Just what a clever fella I am!

The musical was first performed in 2011 and perhaps telly ought to be replaced by Tik Tok, but the social commentary of my absolute favourite Loud feels, if anything, even more astute fifteen years later.

What you know matters less
Than the volume with which, what you don't know is expressed
Content has never been less important, so
You have got to be
Loud!

Mrs Wormwood celebrates a world in which volume matters more than substance, confidence more than understanding, and certainty is treated as a virtue in its own right. The satire lands because we recognise something familiar. It is hard not to see parallels with an increasingly polarised society, shaped by social media, where quick opinions, strong reactions and absolute statements are often rewarded more than careful nuanced thought.

This mindset is sometimes described as toxic certainty: the belief that one’s own view of reality is the only valid one, coupled with a rejection of any evidence or feedback that challenges it. Toxic certainty discourages empathy, curiosity and openness, and it thrives in environments where complexity is reduced to slogans and soundbites, and doubt mistaken for weakness. It is an apt description of attitudes frequently encountered online and increasingly exhibited by public figures.

The irony is that certainty is almost always misplaced. Even Rene Descartes’ famous First Certainty, ‘I think therefore I am’ which he claimed was indubitable, absolutely certain, has been subjected to centuries of philosophical challenge and reinterpretation, and turned out not to be quite so certain after all!

Certainty is remarkably fragile illusion.

As Voltaire put it:

‘Doubt is an uncomfortable condition, but certainty is a ridiculous one.’

The ancient Greek philosopher Socrates’ famously said:

‘As for me, all I know is that I know nothing.’

This is often misunderstood as false modesty, or even a boast. In fact, it is something far more profound. It places humility at the heart of wisdom. Socrates was not claiming that knowledge is impossible but that true wisdom begins with recognising the limits of our understanding.

The more we learn, the more we realise how much remains unknown. A realisation that encourages us to question our assumptions, test our beliefs, listen to others, and change our minds where the evidence demands it. In a world where confidently expressed assertions are so easily repeated and amplified, intellectual humility is not a weakness; it is a strength.

Education isn’t just about learning facts, and it is definitely not about producing students who believe they’re always right. It is about developing, thoughtful, curious and reflective individuals who are confident enough to speak, but wise enough to recognise how little is certain; prepared to listen and wiling to learn.

So, as I listened to my daughter singing along to Matilda in the back of the car, I was reminded of something important: curiosity and humility matter more than being loud or seeming certain. Being thoughtful and reflective is powerful, more powerful than being the loudest person in the room!