Always keep communication open before action
For several days, two twin brothers from my class had not been coming to school. I tried calling their parents multiple times, but both the mother’s and father’s phones were continuously switched off. My anxiety kept increasing, so finally I took another child with me and went to their house.
When I knocked on the door, a woman’s voice came from inside: “Who is it?”
She was told: “Teacher Wajeeha is here, she wants to speak with you.”
At first, she said she was busy, but after repeated requests, she allowed us to come in. As I entered the house, she offered water and then came and sat in front of us.
In a very gentle and reassuring tone, I said: “Both of your children haven’t been coming to school for quite some time, so I thought I should check if everything is alright. Your phones were also not reachable, which made me worried.”
The woman replied rather sharply: “We have enrolled our children in a private school.”
I was surprised to hear this. I asked: “Why such a sudden decision?”
She smiled and said: “Now our children have learned how to behave, they have become quite sensible, and they were also ready for the private school admission test. They passed the test with good marks, so we enrolled them there.”
I looked at her quietly. Then, holding back my feelings, I smiled and said: “I’m glad to hear that your circumstances have improved. Because when your children were in the government school, you couldn’t even pay the twenty rupees collected under FTF. But now you will be able to afford thousands in fees, expensive uniforms, courses, and frequent additional expenses. That is indeed good news.”
But my heart was tangled in strange questions.
Those same children, whom we never even saw properly dressed in their government school uniforms, would now be wearing the shining uniforms of a private school. I felt a strong urge to see them once—just to understand how people can so skillfully deceive with words, and how we end up believing them simply because we trust them.
I only said this to her: “The children are yours, and the decision is your right. Surely, you must have thought about their better future. But if you had informed us earlier, perhaps we wouldn’t have been so worried.”
On my way back, one question kept revolving in my mind: Why are we like this?
A teacher doesn’t just teach books; they shape a child, build their confidence, and help them stand up when they fall. From the time a child doesn’t even know how to wipe their nose, to the time they become sensible, a teacher invests effort, time, and love into building their personality. How many times a child is guided, how many mistakes are tolerated, how many times their courage is restored.
And then, when that child finally becomes stable—starts speaking, walking, understanding, and learning—suddenly, without any notice, they are withdrawn from the government school… as if that relationship never mattered.
It is sad that our society has begun to measure the quality of education by outward glamour. People forget that those who build strong foundations are often the same government teachers who quietly shape children’s futures.
This piece is not a complaint, but an attempt to awaken a feeling. Because a teacher doesn’t just teach—they form a bond with every child. And when that bond suddenly breaks, the pain is something only a teacher can truly understand.
In my experience as someone who has observed the dynamics between educators and parents, I can truly relate to the feelings expressed in this story. Communication is the bridge that ensures everyone involved in a child's development is on the same page. When parents suddenly withdraw their children from a school without informing the teachers, it can cause confusion and emotional distress — not just for the teachers but sometimes for the children as well. Teachers invest time, energy, and affection into nurturing students, guiding them through every step of their growth from early learning milestones to academic challenges. This bond is built on mutual trust and respect, and when it breaks unexpectedly, it can feel like a personal loss. Moreover, educators often have valuable insights into a child’s progress and wellbeing that could help parents make informed decisions if given the chance to collaborate. Additionally, the shift from government to private schooling — highlighted in this story — is a significant decision that impacts families financially and socially. Open communication might help teachers support families during transitions or offer counsel on managing new challenges like fees and additional expenses. When such dialogue is missing, it may also mask underlying issues that schools and teachers could address if involved earlier. From a broader perspective, the perception that educational quality depends on external factors such as uniforms or school prestige often overshadows the true value of dedicated teachers in government schools who quietly and persistently foster strong foundations for their students. By maintaining open lines of communication, communities can better appreciate and support the essential role teachers play. This story serves as a reminder of the importance of keeping communication channels open, practicing patience and understanding, and valuing the relationships that nurture children’s growth beyond just academic achievements.
