Part 9 of 19 in How to Coach Your Child: A Handbook for Indian Parents← Part 8Part 10 →
I’ve been thinking about the pressure we place on our children with marks, tuition, and the ever-looming fear of falling behind. It’s a fear that’s all too familiar to me, both as a parent and as someone who’s seen the effects of this pressure firsthand in my practice and in the startups I invest in. There’s a real moment that stands out to me, something that happened just the other day in Nagpur. Fourteen-year-old Neel received his mathematics results—76 out of 100. His mother saw the number before she saw his face, and her first reaction was to compare him to Sharma aunty’s son, who scored 94. Neel, who had worked hard to improve from 51 to 76, was met with silence about his progress and instead was pushed into another tuition class he didn’t want.
The crux of the matter here is not the marks themselves but the weight of expectations we place on them. In India, the marksheet is almost a rite of passage, a document that can often feel like a life sentence. Every relative, every neighbor seems to have an opinion about it, and their opinions often translate into pressure on the child. The move isn’t to pretend that marks don’t matter—they do, especially in a system that heavily emphasizes academic performance. But we need to stop making our children carry our anxieties on top of their academic challenges.
Imagine Neel’s situation from a different perspective. Instead of focusing on Sharma aunty’s son, what if we started with the paper itself? “76 is lower than you hoped. It is higher than last time. We will look at the three questions you missed tomorrow, when I am not using Sharma aunty as a stick.” This approach not only acknowledges the child’s effort but also encourages learning and improvement rather than comparison and humiliation.
Tuition, in this context, should be seen as a tool, not a judgment of character. A class can be incredibly useful if a child is struggling with a subject. It’s a technical decision, not an emotional verdict. When we tell a child, “Without tuition, you are nothing,” or impose our financial sacrifices on them—”I am sacrificing my savings, so you will sit there gratefully”—we’re turning gratitude into a poor study method. The real failure often lies with parents who can’t leave the tuition to the tutor. They hover, interfere, and then blame the child for not being independent. If you’ve hired a coach, let the coach do their job. Your role is to create boundaries around sleep, food, and attendance, not to micromanage the learning process.
The fear of falling behind is perhaps the most damaging aspect of our education system. But behind whom, and towards what goal? A Class 9 student is not late for their own life because a coaching institute published a rank list. Children are already measuring themselves against a thousand digital benchmarks; they don’t need an additional scoreboard from their parents. Descriptive praise, as described by Ginott, offers a powerful antidote. Saying “You redid the trigonometry set after getting it wrong. That is the part I saw,” focuses on effort, which is visible, rather than rank, which is not a soul.
On the night before an exam, harshness and guilt can peak. It’s a time when many parents may introduce new chapters at 11 p.m. or tell their child to “just relax,” even when relaxation is impossible. The real coaching happens when you shorten the room: “The paper is tomorrow. What you know is already in you. I will not add a lecture. Bag by the door, lights at 10:30, breakfast is my job.” Then do that. The lecture you swallow is the coaching.
It’s a lesson I’ve learned from both medicine and investing: focus on the process, not the outcome. In IVF, as in startups, success isn’t guaranteed. But the effort, the learning, and the resilience are what ultimately make a difference. When I counsel my IVF patients, or when I mentor founders, I emphasize the importance of understanding and embracing the journey rather than obsessing over the final result. It’s a lesson that can—and should—be applied to education.
Education reform in India is a cause I’m passionate about. Our current system often stifles curiosity and creativity in favor of rote memorization and standardized testing. We need to foster an environment that encourages exploration, critical thinking, and a love for learning. As I discussed in a previous post, “Is the Indian School System Failing Our Kids’ Curiosity?”, we must ask ourselves if we’re truly preparing our children for the future or merely pushing them to fit into predetermined molds.
We have a choice to make. We can continue to perpetuate a system that values marks over learning, or we can shift our focus to nurturing the potential in every child. The latter requires us to confront our own fears and anxieties and to trust in our children’s ability to learn and grow at their own pace. It’s a choice that demands courage and conviction, but it’s one that can lead to more fulfilling and meaningful educational experiences for our children.
In the end, it’s not about falling behind or racing ahead. It’s about finding the right pace for each child and supporting them in their unique journey. As parents, educators, and reformers, we owe it to our children to create an environment where they can thrive, free from the undue pressures of comparison and competition. It’s a change that’s both necessary and possible, and it’s one that I believe we can achieve together.