Letters You Can Send

Letters You Can Send
5 min read

Part 19 of 29 in Helping Your Children Learn: What Parents Need to Know

I’ve always found that the simplest gestures can often carry the deepest meaning. I have written a few letters recently, not to be sent in the traditional sense, but as a way to articulate thoughts that I believe many parents, educators, and even I, need to hear. These letters are not long; they are concise and to the point, but they offer a perspective that I feel is crucial in our journey towards nurturing a more thoughtful and enlightened future generation.

Let me start with a letter to a grandparent.

To a Grandparent

You’ve taught her more than school ever could, just by letting her sit beside you, keenly observing and interrupting with her curious questions. I’ve decided to stop sending her to those extra coaching classes on the evenings she spends with you. If she ever seems bored, perhaps tell her a story—tell it badly. Let her correct you. Please, do not ask her about her marks in front of guests. Instead, ask her what she created today. She needs at least one adult in her life who does not see her as a rank or a score, but as a person full of potential.

In Indian families, change doesn’t happen in isolation. It’s a collective decision, influenced by the expectations and traditions that have been passed down through generations. Grandparents play a pivotal role in this dynamic, often becoming the unsung heroes of a child’s informal education. They pass on wisdom and values without the pressure of formal assessments. This is why it is crucial to involve them in a child’s learning journey, not as enforcers of academic achievement, but as nurturers of curiosity and creativity.

To a Tuition Teacher

We appreciate the clarity you bring to the topics he has chosen to explore. We won’t be adding more hours. If he finds himself stuck, I would rather he asks you one honest question than complete two extra worksheets. Please do not compare him with the batch. We won’t compare him at home either. Competence matters to us. Public ranking does not.

The pressure of academic excellence in India is immense. It often leads parents to overburden children with extra classes and tuition sessions. However, this approach can sometimes do more harm than good. It’s important to recognize that learning is not a race. True understanding comes from curiosity, not competition. By focusing on competence rather than comparison, we encourage children to pursue knowledge for its own sake.

To Myself

You were never trusted with your own questions. That is why silence in the house frightens you, and why a full timetable feels like love. But it’s not the only kind. This month, you will leave one evening empty. You will answer one question without improving it. You will not post a mark. The child is already a learning animal. You do not have to wind her up. You have to stop blocking the spring.

Reflecting on my own upbringing, I realize how much our environment shapes us. The constant pursuit of achievement can create a fear of silence and emptiness. Yet, these moments of quiet reflection are often where true creativity and innovation flourish. As parents and educators, we must learn to trust our children’s innate ability to learn and grow, even when it seems counterintuitive to step back and let them be.

Reflecting on these letters, I realize they are not just messages to others but reminders to myself. In the rapid pace of life, it’s easy to forget the importance of simplicity and presence. Whether in medicine, investing, or education, we often overcomplicate things, adding layers of complexity where they aren’t needed.

In my experience as an IVF specialist, I’ve seen how the emotional burden on patients can be alleviated when we focus on honest communication and empathy rather than just clinical outcomes. Similarly, in investing, the most successful ventures are often those that solve simple problems with straightforward solutions. The same principle applies to education. Let’s not make the mistake of turning learning into a chore. Our children deserve better.

These letters are a call to action—action that is transformative not because it is grand, but because it is real, grounded, and genuinely impactful. They remind us to focus on what truly matters: nurturing curiosity, fostering competence, and trusting the natural learning process. They remind us that sometimes the greatest gift we can give is the freedom to explore, question, and create without the weight of comparison.

As I ponder which letter I have been avoiding, it becomes clear that it is the one to myself. The one where I acknowledge my own fears and limitations, and the need to let go of control. Perhaps you, too, have a letter you’ve been avoiding. It’s time to write it, to send it, even if just in spirit. Because in doing so, we open the door to transformation—not just for our children, but for ourselves.