Part 23 of 29 in Helping Your Children Learn: What Parents Need to Know← Part 22Part 24 →
I’ve been thinking a lot about teenagers and their phones lately. It strikes me how, by the time most Indian children reach the age of fourteen, they’re living two parallel educational lives. One, of course, is the visible curriculum: school, tuition classes, and the endless stream of tests. But then there’s the other, less recognized, curriculum that unfolds on their phones. This is where they engage in a game economy, become budding filmmakers through editing apps, or dive into Wikipedia rabbit holes about black holes or Mughal history at one in the morning.
As adults, we often dismiss this second education as mere distraction. But I wonder if we’ve got it all wrong. Sometimes, this secret curriculum is the only space where a child is an active learner, choosing their own journey, correcting themselves, and staying engaged simply because they find it interesting. It’s a landscape where they are not just recipients of information but explorers of knowledge.
The phone is both a library and a slot machine in one sleek rectangle. It can be a tool for immense learning or an endless source of distraction. A ban on phones is almost impossible to enforce and only teaches deceit. An unrestricted allowance teaches nothing but craving. The challenge for us, as parents and educators, is to understand this secret curriculum. We need to know what interests them instead of simply confiscating their devices under the guise of discipline.
When I say “show me the part you like,” I’m not just asking for a glimpse into their world—I’m inviting them to share their enthusiasm. This is fundamentally different from demanding, “Give me the phone.” The latter is an inspection; the former is an invitation. It’s an approach I wish more of us would adopt.
Let’s take the example of a teenager engrossed in editing reels. Instead of dismissing it as frivolous, ask them to create a two-minute film of a recent family event. Encourage them to think about the narrative, the beginning, and the end. If your teenager is absorbed in a game, ask them to explain the scoring system and how it tricks new players. This is not about creating a polished product but about valuing their effort and insight.
When it comes to discussions, especially those that brush against politics or social issues, engage them in conversation. Argue back with evidence, not emotion. Confiscating topics does not make them disappear; it merely pushes them out of your reach. A teenager who feels allowed to be serious about something beyond their syllabus often becomes capable of being serious about academic portions too. The reverse, unfortunately, is not true. A student who has only studied for exams might pass with flying colors, yet they may not know how to engage with a challenging text when there is no looming examination.
There’s a crucial role for us in balancing autonomy with guidance. Sleep, food, and shared meals remain our responsibility. We can set boundaries like charging phones outside the bedroom, but we must avoid turning their interests into resume points or certificates. The refusal to do so is a mark of respect for their autonomy.
It’s a delicate dance, isn’t it? Balancing between nurturing curiosity and maintaining discipline. I often find myself asking parents and educators, “What is your teenager learning in the hours you call wasted? Have you asked to be shown?” This question is not just rhetorical. It is an invitation to reconsider our assumptions.
In my own experience as an angel investor, I’ve encountered founders who remind me of these teenagers. They’re passionate about their ideas, even when those ideas don’t fit neatly into conventional business models. Much like teenagers with their phones, these founders are often misunderstood. What seems like a distraction to the untrained eye is, in reality, an incubation period for innovation. The key is to recognize and nurture this potential rather than stifle it.
Just as in IVF, where the unexpected often becomes the decisive factor in success, so too in education and entrepreneurship. It’s the hidden curriculum—the one that isn’t part of the official syllabus—that often holds the key to real learning and growth. It’s time we start paying attention to it.
In closing, I hope you take a moment to consider what your children or students are truly learning when they’re glued to their screens. Ask to be shown. You might be surprised at the richness of what they have to teach you.