Delhi University’s Executive Council (EC) has approved sweeping curriculum revisions that have sparked sharp protests from faculty members, igniting a fresh debate over academic freedom, ideological influence, and the future of higher education in India. The changes, ratified during the EC’s 1,275th meeting, affect multiple departments including Psychology, Sociology, and English, and introduce new programmes in journalism and nuclear medicine.

Among the most contentious shifts is the removal of conflict-based case studies from the Psychology of Peace paper. Case references to Kashmir, Palestine, India-Pakistan relations, and the Northeast have been replaced with conflict-resolution examples drawn from Indian epics like the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita. Similarly, a Sociology paper has dropped foundational thinkers like Karl Marx and Thomas Robert Malthus, along with key sections such as the Sociology of Food and the critical lens on the Sociology of Law.

Faculty members are sounding the alarm. As per a story in Business Standard, EC member and Associate Professor at Kirori Mal College, Rudrashish Chakraborty, called the changes “a complete disregard for disciplinary expertise” and warned they could severely damage DU’s global academic standing.

At the heart of the backlash is a deeper concern about ideological overreach in curriculum design. Critics say the move replaces rigorous, research-based frameworks with selectively religious narratives, undermining the pluralism that once defined Indian academia.

Why These Topics Were in the Curriculum in the First Place

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Incorporating geopolitical issues like Kashmir and Palestine in social science syllabi wasn’t about courting controversy—it was about helping students understand conflict, diplomacy, and peace-building through lived realities. Scholars like Marx and Malthus, often labelled as ideologues, contributed frameworks that shaped global discourse on inequality, population, labour, and social justice. To erase them from academic memory is not just selective—it’s intellectually dishonest.

Their inclusion wasn’t about promoting one ideology over another but about exposing students to a spectrum of thought. If academic institutions stop encouraging intellectual plurality, they risk becoming echo chambers that simply mirror prevailing politics.

What Could Have Been Done Differently

If the aim was truly to Indianise or decolonise the curriculum—as has been cited in many recent reforms—it could have been done with scholarly rigour. Including Indian thinkers alongside global ones, offering critical engagement rather than replacement, and developing interdisciplinary modules that draw on Indian social realities would have strengthened rather than diluted the curriculum.

A meaningful curriculum reform should be inclusive, consultative, and pedagogically sound. Instead, these changes appear abrupt and top-down, with several faculty members alleging they were not adequately consulted. As one member remarked, “Modernisation cannot come at the cost of academic autonomy.”

The counter to a whitewashed curriculum should not be to do the exact opposite. Figures like Karl Marx are not just ideologists; their legacies extend beyond nation-states. They presented global ideas that remain relevant to Indian society, especially in an age grappling with inequality and labour rights.

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And religion—while an important part of many societies—must never dominate education policy. When one faith is elevated in academic materials meant for students of all backgrounds, it chips away at the secular fabric of our democracy.

Replacing complex geopolitical issues with religious scripture is not only pedagogically flawed—it’s, frankly, a dangerous precedent.

New Programmes and Policy Decisions

Beyond the curriculum overhaul, DU has also announced the launch of a two-year M.A. in Journalism in both Hindi and English, and a BSc in Nuclear Medicine Technology, to be offered at the Army Hospital (R&R) for Armed Forces Medical Services personnel. The EC also introduced a new policy for determining teacher seniority, with age taking precedence over API scores when qualifications are equal.

A committee has been constituted to assess the implications of a DoPT circular mandating periodic review of employees aged 50 and above—raising concerns about forced retirement policies within the university system.

As the NEP rollout moves ahead, universities like DU need to walk the path wisely. Reforms should fuel learning, not push a story. Education isn’t meant to box students into ideologies—it’s meant to open minds, spark debate, and shape citizens who can think for themselves. Our classrooms should dig deeper, not go narrow. We can’t afford to swap knowledge for one-sided thinking.

Kerala’s Department of Public Education is steering its schools in a direction few others in the country have ventured. With a growing emphasis on emotional well-being, civic sense, and digital discipline, the state has announced a series of reforms that aim to reframe the purpose and process of schooling in the 2025–26 academic year.

The most striking of these changes is the introduction of a two-week social awareness programme at the beginning of the school year for students from Classes 1 to 10, starting June 2. Higher secondary students will take part in a shorter version of the initiative from July 18. In this period, traditional textbooks will be set aside in favour of sessions that explore topics like drug abuse prevention, responsible social behaviour, emotional regulation, hygiene, gender sensitivity, and legal awareness.

The programme was designed in consultation with experts from the Police Department, Social Justice Ministry, Child Rights Commission, SCERT, and others, ensuring that content is both relevant and age-appropriate. Arts and sports will also be given space during this period, further promoting a holistic approach to education.

In addition to curriculum shifts, the department has issued a directive asking teachers not to create or share reels and videos on social media platforms during school hours. This move comes in light of growing concerns about distractions and the professional image of educators in the digital age.

These reforms reflect a deeper philosophical shift. Education Minister V Sivankutty’s vision seems to be one where schooling is not only about academic advancement but also about nurturing responsible, resilient individuals. While some critics may question the timing or implementation capacity of these reforms, the global education landscape suggests Kerala may be on the right track. Countries like Finland and New Zealand have already incorporated social-emotional learning and life skills into their core curricula, recognising that academic performance alone does not prepare students for an unpredictable world.

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Are these reforms necessary? Given rising cases of student stress, substance abuse, and digital addiction, the answer may well be yes. By introducing these changes early in the academic calendar, Kerala is making a case for front-loading empathy, awareness, and life-readiness—concepts that are increasingly critical but often delayed in traditional schooling.

Whether this is a bold experiment or the beginning of a national shift remains to be seen. But there’s little doubt that other states will be watching closely.

As the future of work continues to evolve at a breakneck pace, one thing is becoming increasingly clear: the ability to be human is our greatest advantage. In an age where automation and AI are reshaping industries, it’s no longer technical proficiency that sets students apart, it’s human skills.

And yet, our schools aren’t keeping up.

Globally, education systems remain heavily weighted towards academic and technical achievement. While these are certainly important, they no longer tell the whole story. Employers across sectors are united in their call for graduates who can communicate effectively, manage stress, work in diverse teams, and adapt to constant change.

Deloitte’s 2019 report The path to prosperity: Why the future of work is human found that by 2030, two-thirds of all jobs created will be reliant on human capabilities. These include empathy, creativity, collaboration, emotional intelligence, and the ability to learn continuously. All of which are underdeveloped in our current school structures.

This is not a theoretical problem. The impact is already being felt. Research consistently shows that up to 68% of high school students report feeling anxious, underprepared, and lacking the confidence to take the next step into work or further education. The transition from school to career requires more than ‘knowledge acquisition,’ it requires self awareness.

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Human skills are the gateway to that self-awareness. They help students identify their strengths, regulate their emotions, communicate effectively, and develop resilience. These are the foundational competencies that allow young people to navigate uncertainty and thrive in a rapidly changing world.

Importantly, these skills are not innate. They are learned, practised, and refined over time — just like maths, science, or coding. When introduced early, human skill development empowers students with confidence and clarity. They learn how to navigate social complexity, resolve conflicts, deal with failure, and see growth as a lifelong journey rather than a fixed destination.

So, why aren’t we teaching these skills in schools as deliberately as we teach literacy or numeracy?

Perhaps it’s because human skills feel harder to measure. But we must shift our mindset. What we value, we measure — and what we measure, we teach. Forward-thinking educators and school leaders across the globe are beginning to incorporate social-emotional learning, strengths-based development, and mental wellbeing into their curriculums, recognising that these are not “nice-to-haves” — they are must-haves.

Imagine a student graduating from high school with not just academic marks, but a toolkit of emotional and interpersonal strengths: an understanding of who they are, what drives them, and how to manage themselves under pressure. Imagine a generation that sees learning as a lifelong pursuit and failure as a stepping stone rather than a setback.

This is the future we must design for.

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It starts by giving human skills a seat at the table – not as a supplement to education, but as a core component of it. We need to empower educators with the tools and frameworks to deliver this kind of learning and where necessary provide expert facilitators to avoid adding more to the workload of educators. We need to engage students in real, reflective experiences that help them connect their inner world with the outer demands of life and work.

The most meaningful educational innovation doesn’t just teach students to do more. It teaches them to be more – to be self-aware, to be empathetic, to be adaptable. That’s how we create work-ready individuals and life-ready citizens.

The world doesn’t need more rote learners. It needs more critical thinkers, resilient leaders, and emotionally intelligent problem solvers. And the time to cultivate them is now –  in our classrooms, through our curriculums, and with intention.

This article is authored by Renata Sguario

Renata Sguario is the founder and CEO of Maxme and the current chairman of the board of Future First Technology (formerly known as PS+C Limited), listed on the ASX (FFT), one of Australia’s leading end-to-end ICT and digital consulting organisations.

Ambedkar Jayanti Special | ScooNews

Dr. Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar. Most students in India recognise the name—largely as the “Father of the Indian Constitution.” If you ask a Class 10 student what Ambedkar stood for, you’ll likely get a respectable summary: chairperson of the Drafting Committee, architect of constitutional equality, and perhaps a passing reference to his fight against untouchability. But that’s where it ends.

This is not a failure of our students. This is a failure of our books.

Because Babasaheb Ambedkar was not just a jurist or a political figure to be summarised in three bullet points under Civics. He was one of the most radical, intellectually fierce, and unapologetically liberal minds India has ever known. And if we are talking about modern India—its democracy, its dissent, its diversity, its demands for dignity—then Dr. Ambedkar isn’t just relevant, he is foundational.

And yet, he remains tragically under-read and under-taught.

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The Man We Didn’t Read Enough About

Ambedkar’s life is a masterclass in resilience, intellect, and reform. Born into the most marginalised community in India, he went on to become the first Indian to pursue a doctorate in economics from Columbia University, studied law at the London School of Economics, and returned to a country that still wouldn’t allow him to sit beside upper-caste students.

But Ambedkar did not stop at personal success. He turned his education into ammunition. His writings dissected caste not just as a social issue but as an economic and psychological reality. In works like Annihilation of Caste, he boldly challenged not just the religious orthodoxy but also Mahatma Gandhi—a sacred figure for many—in ways that were considered almost blasphemous at the time. And even today.

Unlike Gandhi, who sought reform within the caste system, Ambedkar demanded its demolition. Where Gandhi appealed to morality, Ambedkar appealed to reason, law, and modernity.

This discomfort with Ambedkar’s sharp, unflinching views is perhaps why our textbooks package him safely—as the dignified lawyer with a pen, not the roaring revolutionary with a voice.

More Than a Constitution-Maker

To say Ambedkar gave us the Constitution is both true and painfully incomplete.

• He gave us the right to constitutional morality, the idea that the Constitution isn’t just a set of rules but a living document that must be interpreted in the spirit of liberty, equality, and justice.
• He envisioned reservations not as charity but as corrective justice.
• He believed that a true democracy must have “social democracy” at its base—not just the right to vote but the right to dignity in everyday life.
• And he warned, prophetically, that political democracy without social democracy would be India’s downfall. He was not just designing India’s governance system, but was rather trying to develop India’s moral spine.

A Voice for Individual Freedom—Louder Than We Knew

“I measure the progress of a community by the degree of progress which women have achieved.”- Bhim Rao Ambedkar

Ambedkar’s liberalism was far ahead of his time. He consistently advocated for individual rights in the truest sense. There’s documented evidence that he argued for the decriminalisation of same-sex relationships, seeing it as an issue of individual freedom long before such conversations entered our legal discourse.

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His economic ideas—rarely taught—favoured state-led industrialisation, fair wages, and social security decades before these became policy buzzwords. His writings on women’s rights were equally progressive, particularly through the Hindu Code Bill, which sought to grant women equal property rights, rights to divorce, and freedom in marriage—a bill so radical for its time that it was shelved, only to return years later in diluted forms.

Why Today’s Students Need Ambedkar—Unfiltered

In an age where freedom of speech is contested, when marginalised voices still struggle for space, when gender and sexuality are still debated as ‘issues’ instead of identities—Ambedkar is the teacher we didn’t know we needed.

We need to stop sanitising him for our syllabus. We need high schoolers to read Annihilation of Caste in their literature classes and understand the intersections of caste, religion, and gender in history—not just from an upper-caste nationalist lens but from the view of the people who fought to be seen as human.

We need Ambedkar in economics classrooms, debating his views against today’s neoliberal models.

We need to introduce him as an intellectual, a radical thinker, a critic of Gandhi, a reformer of Hindu personal law, a journalist, a linguist, a labour rights advocate, a rebel with a cause.

Because the freedoms we enjoy today—freedom of religion, freedom of expression, freedom to love, to choose, to protest, to dream—all have Ambedkar’s fingerprints on them.

If our education system truly believes in nurturing critical thinkers and empathetic citizens, then Dr. Ambedkar cannot remain a footnote or a ceremonial portrait garlanded on April 14th.

He must be read. He must be debated. He must be understood. Because the more we know about Ambedkar, the more we know about ourselves—and the democracy we’re still trying to build.

On World Autism Awareness Day 2025, the Ministry of Education reaffirmed its commitment to inclusive education—announcing strengthened therapy-based support through Block Resource Centres (BRCs) for children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) under Samagra Shiksha. On paper, it all sounds exactly as it should: speech therapy, occupational support, assistive devices, special educators, digital access, even parent counselling and teacher training.

But just three days ago, a deeply disturbing video emerged from a Noida-based private school, showing a special educator manhandling a 10-year-old child with autism in the classroom. The video, accidentally shared on a parent WhatsApp group, has since gone viral, leading to the arrest of the teacher, the sealing of the school, and an FIR under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, the JJ Act, and the RPWD Act.

It begs the question: Is our reality in special education as inclusive as our rhetoric?

When Inclusion Becomes a Hollow Word

For far too many children with autism in India, inclusion begins and ends in policy documents. What lies in between is often a cycle of unchecked negligence, lack of accountability, and poorly trained or entirely unqualified “special educators” functioning like gig workers—underpaid, under-monitored, and dangerously unprepared.

We’ve heard of children being tied to chairs during therapy hours, being underfed as a behavioural management strategy, or being punished for sensory overstimulation they cannot control. Many so-called educators don’t even have basic training, let alone the emotional intelligence required to support neurodiverse children.

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What Needs to Change?

If we are truly serious about inclusion, then we need more than just circulars and schemes. We need licensing laws that mandate certification and regular evaluation of all special educators. We need background checks, complaint redressal systems, and swift punitive action against violations. We need to ensure every school, government or private, recognised or otherwise, follows minimum compliance protocols for inclusive practices. And yes, we need parent voices on the table when these frameworks are drafted—not just policy architects in boardrooms.

The Ministry’s renewed vision under NEP 2020 is a welcome step, and BRCs could become powerful hubs of change. But only if they are funded, monitored, and held accountable. Inclusion is not a checkbox, it’s a lived culture—and it starts with respect, rigour, and responsibility.

There’s something deeply sacred about a child’s first sketch—the awkward crayon lines, the lopsided sun, the stick figures that smile despite their missing limbs. That’s the heart of human creativity: messy, imperfect, emotional. And then there’s AI art—sleek, polished, awe-inspiring, and often eerily devoid of that same soul. So where do we draw the line when we bring this technology into schools, where the purpose of art isn’t just aesthetic, but emotional, developmental, and deeply personal?

As AI-generated art becomes increasingly accessible, educators and institutions are exploring its use in classrooms, textbooks, exhibitions, and even personalised student projects. The tools are powerful. With a few prompts, a teacher can conjure up a world map in Van Gogh’s style or generate a Ghibli-inspired version of a student’s family portrait. It’s engaging, efficient, and undeniably exciting. But in this rush to embrace innovation, are we unconsciously sidelining the raw, human act of creation?

Take, for instance, the aesthetic influence of Studio Ghibli—a name synonymous with hand-drawn magic. Hayao Miyazaki, its legendary co-founder, has publicly criticised AI-generated art as soulless. For a man who believes every frame must carry the weight of life, suffering, and intent, AI art is an affront to authenticity. And when we use Ghibli-inspired AI to recreate school memories or cultural illustrations, are we honouring that legacy or reducing it to a visual filter?

This question becomes even more relevant in educational spaces, where art is more than visual delight. It’s therapy, it’s storytelling, it’s identity-building. A classroom wall covered with AI-generated posters may look stunning, but what happens when it replaces the joy of getting paint under your fingernails or proudly misspelling your name in glitter?

Then there’s the ethical dilemma of data and labour. Who gets credited when AI art is trained on thousands of anonymous, unpaid artists? Are we inadvertently participating in a system that borrows without consent?

And what message does that send to young creators—that their work can be replicated, remixed, and resold by a machine in seconds?

Of course, this isn’t a call to ban AI art from classrooms. Quite the opposite. There’s immense potential here—to use AI as a collaborative tool rather than a replacement. Imagine students learning how to prompt ethically, understanding how AI generates images, and using it to reflect on visual storytelling, bias, and authorship. Education is the perfect place to ask these questions—not avoid them.

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And let’s talk about nostalgia—the emotional undertow of this whole conversation. Many of us turn to AI to recreate what once made us feel safe, seen, and whole. Whether it’s turning a family portrait into a Ghibli scene or reviving the aesthetics of Amar Chitra Katha, it stems from love. But love also requires respect. And perhaps the most respectful thing we can do is to remember that some things—like a child’s first drawing, or the tremble in an old hand sketching memories—are sacred because they are human.

So as educators, creators, and curators of tomorrow’s imaginations, let us not trade soul for style. Let AI walk beside our children, not ahead of them. Let it support the messy, magical business of making art—not sanitise it.

Because in the end, the point isn’t to create perfect art. It’s to create honest ones.

In a deeply reflective and engaging episode of the NEP Tunes podcast, Dr. Anju Chazot, education reformer and founder of Mahatma Gandhi International School (MGIS), Ahmedabad, sat down with Mrs. Anita Karwal, former Secretary of School Education, Government of India, to explore one fundamental question: How do we prepare children for a rapidly changing world?

Titled “Be the Change in the Changing World,” the episode offers a powerful conversation between two veterans of Indian education who have shared a decades-long friendship—and a mutual vision for a holistic and transformative school system.

“You can’t prepare children for tomorrow with the pedagogy of the day before yesterday.”

Drawing inspiration from John Dewey’s famous words, the episode begins by addressing the urgent need for policy literacy among stakeholders in education. Mrs. Karwal and Dr. Chazot underscore that the pace of global change—technological, environmental, economic, and emotional—has far outstripped the ability of traditional education systems to keep up. “We are in a VUCA world—volatile, uncertain, complex, ambiguous,” Karwal reminds listeners, calling for schools to adapt to this reality rather than resist it.

Decolonising the Classroom

A significant portion of the conversation focused on the historical context of schooling in India. Dr. Chazot draws parallels between today’s school system and Michel Foucault’s “cell and bell” model, which mirrors the prison system—marked by uniforms, bells, and rigid structures. Tracing the roots of modern schooling to the Prussian military model and colonial-era policies introduced by Lord Macaulay, both speakers lamented how education was once used as a tool to produce clerks for the Empire, rather than creative, entrepreneurial individuals.

“Colonialism didn’t just take away our resources; it colonised our minds,” Chazot observed. Karwal added, “The gurukul system was rooted, contextual, and sustainable. The colonial model replaced it with standardisation and control.”

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Disruptions and the Call for Change

From climate change to AI, from the gig economy to rising mental health challenges—today’s youth are living in an era of non-stop disruptions. Mrs. Karwal shared a poignant insight: on the very day she retired from her government service (30 November 2022), OpenAI launched ChatGPT. “As a senior citizen, I would have felt useless had I not tried to understand this disruption,” she said, urging listeners to stay updated with technological trends.

Mental health also featured prominently in the discussion. The World Health Organization reports a 25% increase in global anxiety and depression cases, especially among the youth. Schools, Karwal said, must acknowledge and address this invisible epidemic, and create environments that are nurturing—not anxiety-inducing.

Why NEP 2020 Is a Game Changer

Against this backdrop, both educators believe the National Education Policy 2020 is a timely and visionary document. “It’s not just about academics—it’s about the whole child,” said Chazot, pointing to NEP’s focus on holistic development across cognitive, emotional, physical, and ethical domains.

Key elements of the NEP and the newly released National Curriculum Framework (NCF) discussed in the podcast include:

• A shift from rote learning to competency-based, experiential learning

• Focus on Indian traditions and cultural rootedness

• Moving away from exam-centric teaching, especially in early years

• Recognition of multilingualism and contextual learning

• Encouragement of critical thinking, creativity, and adaptability

“Learning to learn is the most essential skill of the future,” Karwal stressed. “Children must be ready to unlearn and relearn throughout life.”

The Future of Jobs

To illustrate the rapidly changing employment landscape, both speakers listed a host of emerging careers—from Prompt Engineers and Drone Fleet Managers to Climate Data Analysts and Digital Detox Specialists. “Just imagine,” Chazot quipped, “if I were a child again, I’d become a Prompt Engineer and finally fulfil my parents’ dreams of being an engineer—with a creative twist!”

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Karwal, on the other hand, expressed a desire to become a Human-Machine Team Manager—a futuristic role bridging collaboration between people and machines.

Their message was clear: the world our children are entering is drastically different from the one their parents and teachers grew up in. And education must keep up.

A Takeaway Challenge for Listeners

To wrap up the episode, the hosts offered a unique call-to-action: ask yourself what job you would pick today if you could go back in time again. Then, explore new professions with your family or students. From LinkedIn job listings to the World Economic Forum’s reports, Karwal recommended several tools to research emerging careers. They invited listeners to write in with their findings and reflections.

“This exercise is not just for students,” said Dr. Chazot. “It’s for parents, teachers, and policy-makers alike. We must all become learners again.”

Final Thoughts

In an era where the only constant is change, the NEP Tunes podcast is a timely resource to help educators, parents, and students reimagine the purpose of schooling. With leaders like Anju Chazot and Anita Karwal at the helm of the conversation, the journey towards meaningful transformation in Indian education seems not only possible—but exciting.

🟡 This article is adapted from the NEP Tunes podcast hosted by Dr. Anju Chazot. You can listen to the full episode on YouTube. Here is the video- 

In an important stride towards implementing the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020, the Ministry of Education has launched the “Baalpan ki Kavita” initiative—an ambitious project to restore and revive Indian rhymes and poems for young children across the country. Spearheaded by the Department of School Education & Literacy (DoSE&L), this initiative aims to build a vibrant compendium of age-appropriate, culturally resonant poems in all Bharatiya Bhasha (Indian languages) and in English, for pre-primary to Grade 2 learners.

The initiative recognises the powerful influence of rhymes and poems in early childhood education—offering not only linguistic development but also cultural grounding. Through the “Baalpan ki Kavita” contest, DoSE&L and MyGov are inviting educators, parents, poets, and language enthusiasts to contribute existing or original rhymes under three categories: Pre-primary (ages 3–6), Grade 1 (ages 6–7), and Grade 2 (ages 7–8). The entries can be submitted from 26 March to 22 April 2025 on the MyGov website, and should reflect joyful, child-friendly content rooted in India’s diverse cultural milieu.

While the initiative has been widely welcomed, it has also sparked necessary conversations around what it means to restore “Bharatiya” poems in a truly pluralistic and inclusive India. Critics and educators alike are cautioning that while returning to linguistic and cultural roots is commendable, it is equally essential to ensure that the selected rhymes reflect progressive values, diversity, and regional representation.

For decades, Indian children have grown up reciting foreign nursery rhymes like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or Jack and Jill, with little exposure to traditional Indian poetic forms. While some schools have occasionally included regional gems such as Nani Teri Morni Ko Mor Le Gaye (Hindi) or Chanda Mama Door Ke (widely popular in Hindi and Telugu), these have rarely found a standard place in national curricula.

The absence of Indian rhymes in mainstream education can be attributed to colonial hangovers, lack of standardisation across states, and an education system that long prioritised English-medium content. However, the NEP 2020 has made a strong case for multilingualism and cultural rootedness in foundational education—opening the door to such initiatives that celebrate India’s linguistic diversity.

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That said, educationists emphasise that inclusion must go hand-in-hand with critical curation. Rhymes must reflect the India of today—not just folklore, but stories that uphold gender equality, environmental awareness, and kindness. We must move beyond simplistic moral binaries or caste-laden tales that have occasionally crept into traditional literature.

In fact, there’s an opportunity here to revive some of India’s lesser-known literary treasures—folk rhymes from the hills of Himachal, tribal lullabies from Odisha, Malayalam couplets about the monsoon, Marathi riddles, and more. Rhymes like Appa Amma (Kannada) or Kokila Kokila (Tamil) can be powerful vehicles for language immersion, identity formation, and emotional development.

Still, romanticising the past without scrutiny is not ideal. While the intent to preserve Bharatiya Bhasha is commendable, there is a fine line between celebration and cultural imposition. This initiative must not become a tool to homogenise or politicise early education. India’s strength lies in its diversity—and that diversity and representation must be reflected in the poems our youngest citizens grow up reciting.

As “Baalpan ki Kavita” moves forward, stakeholders must approach the process with sensitivity, balance, and a deep commitment to building a generation that cherishes its heritage while dreaming with open, inclusive minds.

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The Vanishing Dream of Teaching

Once upon a time, being a teacher was one of the most aspirational professions for children. Ask any five-year-old about their future career, and chances were high that “teacher” would be among the first responses. The classroom was their stage, their teacher—an idol. So what changes over the years?

By the time students reach high school, teaching is barely on their list of dream jobs. In a classroom of over 30 students, only one or two might express a desire to teach (a stat that deserves deeper analysis, but the trend is evident). The question is—why does the admiration for teachers fade?

And more importantly—how do we fix it?

One radical yet simple solution: Make every student teach once a month.

The Power Shift: From Passive Learning to Active Teaching

Imagine this—once a month, students step into their teacher’s shoes. They prepare a topic, conduct a lesson, handle questions, and even deal with distractions.

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This isn’t about replacing teachers; it’s about allowing students to experience the magic and the challenge of teaching firsthand.

Why does this matter?

1. Reigniting Respect for Teaching
   Students often underestimate the skill and patience required to be an educator. By making them teach, they gain firsthand experience of the effort it takes to engage a classroom. It’s easy to complain about boring lectures—but what happens when they’re the ones standing at the front?

2. Boosting Communication and Leadership Skills
   Teaching isn’t just about delivering content; it’s about clarity, confidence, and connection. Students who teach regularly develop public speaking skills, empathy, and the ability to break down complex ideas—skills that are valuable in every profession.

3. Making Learning More Engaging
   Students teaching their peers can make the classroom dynamic. They tend to explain concepts in relatable ways, sometimes even better than teachers, because they understand their classmates’ thought processes.

4. Creating a Pipeline of Future Educators
   The biggest challenge in education today is the declining number of passionate teachers. If more students experience the joy of teaching early on, it could plant a seed—a realisation that teaching isn’t just about textbooks and tests; it’s about impact, mentorship, and shaping futures.

Breaking the Myth: “Teaching is Not a ‘Cool’ Career”

Somewhere between childhood admiration and teenage ambition, teaching stops being a “cool” career choice. Students idolise influencers, entrepreneurs, and tech wizards—but rarely educators.

But think about it—every great leader, scientist, or artist was shaped by a teacher. We need to change the narrative. Instead of framing teaching as a ‘fallback’ career, let’s reinforce its power and prestige.

And the best way to do that? Let students experience it themselves.

A Practical Model: How Schools Can Implement This

This idea isn’t just a thought experiment—it can be implemented with a simple framework:

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• Rotation System: Once a month, selected students teach for a short segment of a lesson.
• Guidance from Teachers: Educators help them structure their lesson and anticipate challenges.
• Reflection Sessions: After teaching, students share their experiences—what worked, what didn’t, and how they felt in the teacher’s role.
• Recognition: Acknowledging student-teachers fosters motivation and a sense of achievement.

The Ultimate Question: What If…?

What if students fell in love with teaching again?

What if schools became a place where the best minds were eager to pass on knowledge—not just absorb it?

What if, a decade from now, classrooms weren’t struggling with a shortage of passionate teachers—but overflowing with them?

It starts with one simple idea: Let students teach.

Because sometimes, the best way to inspire future teachers is to let them be one today.