Part 14 of 19 in Trust Yourself: A Guide for Indian Parents← Part 13Part 15 →
I recently found myself sitting across from a young patient, not in my IVF clinic, but in a different setting altogether—a friend’s home in Pune. Rohan, a Class 8 student, was more than just a curious kid; he was an illustration of a growing concern I have about our education system. His father, an engineer, shared a story that resonated deeply with me. Rohan had been part of a foundation batch since Class 6, a path chosen by many in our society where children are groomed from a very young age for competitive exams. Yet, despite his ability to factor algebraic expressions, he couldn’t explain why a bicycle remains upright when ridden. It struck me then: the cram is not merely a phase but a pervasive culture that we have allowed to dominate childhood.
In many Indian homes, the education system is treated like a relentless marathon, starting from before a child can even tie their own shoelaces. Foundation courses, worksheets during car rides, and dinner conversations dominated by comparisons and percentiles have become the norm. A child’s worth is often reduced to their academic rank, an approach that not only stifles creativity but also undermines the essence of learning. Children are perceptive; they can tell when a parent’s interest in them is genuine versus when it feels like an audit. Interest encourages them to share a fascinating fact they stumbled upon, while audit drives them to hide their report card.
I am not suggesting we dismiss the importance of education or the reality of exams. Schools are structured around a public examination system, which serves as a gatekeeper for future opportunities. However, pushing a child through these gates prematurely does more harm than good. The real skills—reading for pleasure, tackling difficult problems without fear, and asking questions—are not nurtured in extra coaching hours. Instead, they are often trampled upon, only to be repackaged later as costly personality development workshops.
Take Rohan’s experiment for instance. His parents decided to break free from the foundation batch’s grip for one term. They chose to focus on schoolwork alone, leaving Sundays free for exploration. As expected, his grades dipped initially but soon stabilized. More importantly, those free Sundays led to a deeper understanding of concepts that no module could encapsulate. Over time, the wrecked bicycle in his passageway became a lesson in physics—not through rote learning but through the joy of discovery. Rohan might still face entrance exams, but he will approach them not just as a student, but as a thinker.
The defense for the early cram is often a circular argument: everyone is doing it because everyone else is. Fear perpetuates this cycle, kept alive by the coaching industry. But let’s pause to consider: a child who enjoys reading, is comfortable with numbers, and can engage with challenging material will still be teachable at fifteen. Conversely, a child who has been pressured and belittled since they were six might also be teachable, but with none of the enthusiasm left for learning. You cannot rebuild a love for learning with a weekend workshop.
Respect is pivotal in this conversation. Respect your child’s journey. Do not embarrass them for what they do not know—they are still new to this world. Do not publicly discuss their grades as if they were stock prices at a dinner table. Do not allow a tuition teacher to use humiliation as a teaching method. If success demands degradation, the price is too high. Instead, engage with your child. Read something non-syllabus related in front of them. Admit when you don’t know an answer and suggest finding out together. When you overstep, apologize; it teaches them that even those in authority can err and that reconciliation is possible.
A mother in Vijayawada made a small yet profound change. She stopped using a disappointed tone when telling her child to try harder. Instead, she asked, “Show me where it got hard.” This change didn’t instantly reduce the homework load, but it did encourage the child to approach her with challenges rather than hide them. Respect isn’t about giving speeches on self-esteem; it’s about asking better questions.
Gender roles add another layer to this issue. Often, daughters are expected to juggle both academics and household chores, praised for their adaptability, while sons are spared domestic duties to focus solely on studies, praised for their dedication. This isn’t respect. True respect is applying the same standard of compassion and responsibility, tailored to age, not gender or societal expectations.
The notion that a child needs to be crammed from a young age to succeed is often touted as a “luxury belief.” Yet, if you look around your family, you might find examples that defy this claim. Someone who wasn’t burdened early on but still achieved success. Or someone who was pressured and succeeded, only to find themselves with little passion for what came next. The evidence is closer than a glossy brochure. Trust it.
As an IVF specialist, I’ve learned that handling patients requires more than just medical expertise. It involves navigating emotional landscapes, much like guiding a child through the maze of education. In both fields, respect and understanding can make a profound difference. Investing in a child’s future should not mean sacrificing their present. It’s time we reflect on what we truly value. Do we want children who can only regurgitate facts, or do we want thinkers, innovators, and empathetic individuals who can adapt and thrive in an ever-changing world?
In the end, the hard thing is indeed doable. We can challenge the norms and redefine success. The key is to replace fear with respect and competition with curiosity. As parents, educators, and mentors, we have the power to shift the narrative. Let’s ensure our children grow up with their minds intact, their spirits unbroken, and their love for learning still vibrant. After all, the real test is not the exam itself but the life that follows.