Part 9 of 29 in Helping Your Children Learn: What Parents Need to Know← Part 8Part 10 →
I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of agency, especially when it comes to children and their learning. Autonomy is a word we adults love to use, yet we often end up qualifying it to death. We say we want children to be independent learners, but then we dictate every step of their educational journey. It’s a contradiction that’s easy to fall into, and I see it not just in education but across various domains, including healthcare and investing.
A few weeks ago, I saw a young patient who reminded me of this very contradiction. Her parents were determined to follow a particular IVF protocol they’d read about online. They were adamant, convinced it was the best course, despite my reservations. They had done their research, but the question they were asking wasn’t truly their own. It was borrowed. In a way, they were like children trying to fit into an adult’s idea of what “good learning” or “good decision-making” looks like.
This brings me to the main point: the child must own the question. It sounds simple, but it’s profoundly difficult. If the question is yours, the learning will be a performance for you. If the question is hers, she will do the harder thing, which is to stay with confusion until it changes shape. John Holt noticed this resistance in children—a refusal to be steered onto a path an adult has decided is good for them. This resistance is not stubbornness; it’s a defense of the self as a learner.
Take a boy who loves maps but refuses to join a “fun” coding class. He’s not refusing to learn; he’s refusing a stranger’s idea of a valuable child. When we call this attitude a problem, we teach him that his own direction is a defect. I’ve seen this in startups too—founders who chase trends rather than questions they genuinely care about tend to falter. In one instance, a founder surprised me with a question so genuine it changed the course of their company.
Now, let’s bring this back to Indian homes, which are not American garages filled with self-help books on autonomy. Here, grandparents have a vote, exams have a date, and space is shared. Agency has to be built from small ownership, or it will be dismissed as a Western luxury. So how do we do it?
Start small. Let her choose the order of her evening homework. Ownership of sequence is still ownership. Let him drop one enrichment class he did not choose. Watch what he does with the hour. Do not fill it “so that it is not wasted.” When she asks a question, write it down where she can see it. A question that is recorded is a question that belongs to her, not a prompt for your lecture. Ask, “What have you already tried?” before you explain. This single habit transfers agency back.
Consider Aisha, a twelve-year-old from Hyderabad. She hated her Hindi textbook, which required her to memorize poems and answer questions that weren’t hers. Her mother, wisely, stopped fighting the textbook for a month and asked her to review family wedding videos instead. The writing she produced was alive, written in the mixed language she actually thinks in. Later, when the textbook asked for a character sketch, she had already done a harder version on an uncle. The skill had come from use; the syllabus had not produced it.
Agency doesn’t mean she never reads the poem. It means the poem is not the only door, and she knows you know that. This is a nuance often lost in what we call “education reform.” Many solutions are about adding new doors, not recognizing the ones children already open on their own.
In my IVF practice, I often see parallels. Patients come in with rigid plans and expectations, often influenced by what they’ve read online or seen in others’ journeys. But the most successful outcomes often occur when the couple owns the question—when they decide what they really want from the process, rather than what society tells them they should want. It’s a difficult balance to achieve, as the stakes are high, and emotions run deep. But it’s essential.
The same can be said for investing. I’ve learned that founders who own their questions—who are not just solving a problem but are genuinely curious about it—are the ones who push through the toughest challenges. They are not just looking for funding; they are looking for answers. And when they own the question, they are more likely to find those answers.
So, whose question was the last long conversation in your house, yours, the school’s, or the child’s? This question isn’t just for parents; it’s for anyone in a position of influence—teachers, doctors, investors. We all have a role in fostering agency, and it starts by letting go of our need to own every question.
In the end, this isn’t just about education or parenting. It’s about creating a culture where questions are owned, where agency is respected, and where the harder path of staying with confusion until it changes shape is valued. It’s not easy, but it’s doable. And the first step is recognizing that the child must own the question.