Are We Exhausting Our Children

By Ajaz Rashid

The most tragic part of our educational process is that it does not start with wonder, it starts with worry. The first lessons a child absorbs are not of discovery or play, but of competition and fear—fear of lagging behind, of disappointing parents, of failing to please teachers.

In a world rapidly changing due to technology, climate shifts, social unrest, and endless career transformations, we still cling to an education system designed during the Industrial Revolution. Built for factories and obedience, our schooling model has barely evolved while society has moved ahead. The most unfortunate victims of this inertia are our children, who are silently and steadily being exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and even physically—in the name of education.

We equate learning with marks, equate success with cracked exams, and quantify potential by report cards. But real education is not algebra or physics formulas copied onto test sheets under pressure. It is about nurturing curiosity, fostering emotional intelligence, awakening creativity, building resilience, and most importantly, preparing future generations to be conscious, contributing citizens of the world.

It is time we unlearn to truly learn. It is time we dismantle the idea that education comes only from textbooks, tests, and tuitions. It is time, especially in regions like Kashmir, that we understand investing in playgrounds and theatres could be as vital—if not more—as investing in labs and libraries.

To genuinely imbibe anything new—be it creativity, compassion, confidence, or even academic principles—we must first “unlearn” some distorted beliefs:

• That intelligence can be measured by a number.
• That failure is a mark of shame rather than a stepping stone.
• That some children are “good” and others are “slow” just because they don’t learn the same way.

Unlearning begins when we stop confusing schooling with education. When we begin to value questions over answers, and process over performance. True learning flourishes in spaces where it’s okay to fail, to slow down, to explore and come back with dirt in your hands and stories in your mind.

A single letter grade or a digit on a report card does not define a child’s intelligence, creativity, or capability for success in life. Yet, tragically, these are exactly the metrics that are used to judge, reward, or punish students—and by extension, their families. We create an annual anxiety festival around exams and results and expect healthy humans to emerge from that anxiety.

What marks don’t show:

• The shy child who was the only one to help a crying classmate.
• The student who gave up hours of study to take care of a sick sibling.
• The average scorer who sticks with a subject not because it fetches marks, but because it fascinates them.

Report cards permanently fail to capture talents that aren’t bound to a curriculum: a gift for storytelling, a passion for fixing broken things, a knack for understanding people. The current system leaves behind those who think differently, learn slowly, or operate outside the “expected” norm.

We must remember that Einstein dropped out of school, Tagore was educated at home, and Steve Jobs never finished college. Not randomly, but because rigid systems fail flexible minds.

Kashmir is more than its politics, more than its conflicts. Amid breathtaking valleys and rivers, there are children who are being raised with very little access to sports facilities, art spaces, or platforms for expression and recreation. The regional focus has been disproportionately skewed toward handling law and order, while the real development—particularly of the youth—lies neglected.

Investing in sports infrastructure in Kashmir isn’t charity—it’s necessity. It’s a strategy for peace, participation, and progress. Here’s why:

Sports heal trauma: In a conflict-sensitive zone like Kashmir, sports can be both therapy and escape. It channels energy, distracts from stress, and provides community.

Sports prevent extremism: Structured physical activity grounds youth with discipline, leadership, and identity—keys to keeping them away from negative influences.

Sports empower girls: In a region where constraints on girls are heightened by conflict and culture, sports encourage bodily autonomy and confidence.

Sports build alternative careers: Not every child is made for academics, and not all learning is cerebral. With proper scouting, training, and facilities, sports can open careers in fitness, coaching, management, and beyond.

The region is teeming with raw talent, but what good is talent without a playground?

For decades now, our education system has been obsessed with STEM—Science, Technology, Engineering, Math. Parents parade their children’s science stream enrollments with immense pride, and students are often pushed into streams not because of aptitude, but because of status and job security.

Subjects like history, philosophy, literature, psychology, and political science are essential to producing empathetic, thoughtful individuals. It’s not geometry that teaches a child about right and wrong. It’s not chemistry that teaches how power can be misused or how societies crumble. That wisdom lies in understanding past civilizations, ethical frameworks, human behavior, and diverse narratives.

Math and science teach us how to build, but humanities teach us why we build and for whom.

In a polarised and volatile world, we need more young people who can think critically, debate respectfully, understand both cultural nuance and historical context. It is the humanities that answer the deeper questions that numerals cannot: Who am I? Why does suffering exist? What is justice?

Too many parents today believe their job is to earn, and education is something to delegate to schools, tutors, and now, online platforms. But no amount of coaching can replace the influence of a present, emotionally available parent.

Children only become obsessed with marks and medals when that’s all their parents comment on.

If a child’s worth is measured only in academic performance by their own parents, what emotional anchor do they have when they fail?

Time is the rarest and most valuable gift. Your child may not remember the expensive school trip you paid for, but they will remember every meal where you sat beside them and asked how they felt. They’ll remember the walk in the park. The bedtime stories. The safe lap during tears of frustration.

Parenthood is not a project to outsource. It’s a journey, and the joy lies in being actively part of that journey—not running beside it with a wallet.

We are raising children with burnout levels seen in top executives. We are putting 8-year-olds in overly competitive environments. We are punishing curiosity to reward conformity. If education is meant to prepare children for life, shouldn’t it begin by embracing life?

It’s not radical to want:

• Less homework, more hands-on learning.
• Less exam pressure, more emotional support.
• Less online addiction, more on-ground activity.
• Fewer comparisons, more compassion.

Education should not be the reason children lose their childhood. It should be the very thing that makes their childhood exciting, exploratory, and joyful.

In Kashmir, we need to build playgrounds where now we have only broken promises. In schools across India, we need to replace fear with inquiry. In our homes, we need to replace pressure with presence.

The 21st century demands empowered minds, not just educated ones. And the first step is to unlearn what we’ve been taught about what it means to be a “successful” student.

Because before we teach our children what to be in life, we must allow them the space to discover who they are.

Ajaz Rashid is a social and development entrepreneur. He can be reached at info@ajazrashid.org