Part 2 of 29 in Helping Your Children Learn: What Parents Need to Know← Part 1Part 3 →
I’ve been reading a lot about education lately, and it strikes me how deeply personal it is. It’s like the way each patient walks into my IVF clinic with a unique story, yet they all carry the universal hope of becoming parents. Education, too, is a shared journey with deeply individual paths. The book I’m working on is about this very notion: that learning is a natural, human process, much like breathing or dreaming. It’s not something to be straitjacketed into rigid curricula or performance metrics.
John Holt’s work, “How Children Learn,” continues to resonate with me. His observations were straightforward yet profound. Children are born learners. It’s their natural state, just as birds are meant to fly and fish to swim. If we merely allow them the space and freedom to explore, without the weight of constant evaluation, they thrive. This is not a revolutionary idea, despite how it might sound in today’s education climate. It’s an idea that’s as old as time and as Indian as the stories we tell our children before bed.
In India, the pressure cooker of academic achievement often leaves little room for curiosity. I’ve seen it in my own home, with my kids juggling school, extra tuitions, and the societal expectations that seem to grow heavier with each passing year. But does this hyper-scheduled existence foster true understanding, or does it merely produce students who are adept at passing exams? My experience with startups has taught me that the best ideas often come from unexpected places. Founders who think differently bring fresh perspectives to the table. Similarly, children need the freedom to explore and the luxury of time to nurture their innate curiosity.
I’ve noticed that the best learning happens in moments of genuine engagement. Like when a child is absorbed in a book, not because it’s on their syllabus, but because it speaks to them. Or when a founder stumbles upon a solution not through a structured brainstorming session, but while tackling an everyday problem. Both scenarios require a conducive environment — one that encourages exploration without the fear of failure.
Let’s talk about failure for a moment. In my own journey as an IVF specialist, I’ve witnessed the tenacity of couples who persevere through multiple cycles, undeterred by setbacks. It’s a lesson in resilience that traditional education often fails to impart. In our schools, the fear of failure is pervasive. But why should it be? Failure is an integral part of learning. It’s the foundation upon which success is built. As investors, we know that not every startup will succeed, but we still take the risk because the potential payoff is worth it. In education, the payoff is a child who thinks independently and creatively.
This brings me to the role of technology in education. Tools like Eklavya.io are designed to support, not replace, the parent’s role in a child’s learning journey. I’ve observed my kids interact with AI tools, and I’ve learned that while these tools can answer questions at odd hours, they cannot replace the nuanced guidance of a parent. An app can provide information, but it cannot ask the probing questions that spark deeper understanding. That’s a parent’s job, and it’s a beautiful responsibility.
We must remember that education is not about ticking boxes or filling in the blanks of an exam paper. It’s about developing thinkers and doers, ready to tackle the real-world challenges that await them. It’s about creating an environment where children feel safe to ask questions and explore ideas without the looming threat of a red mark on their paper.
Parents, take heart. You are already equipped with the most powerful tool in your child’s educational journey: your trust in their innate ability to learn. Encourage them to ask questions, to explore, to make mistakes. And most importantly, resist the urge to turn every learning opportunity into a lesson plan. Trust in the process. Just as my IVF patients have taught me patience, our children can teach us to trust in the natural unfolding of their abilities.
As I continue to write this book, I am reminded that the power to change the narrative of education lies with us — the parents, the educators, the curious companions in our children’s lives. It’s time to step back and let our children show us how they learn. After all, they are the true experts in their own journey.