Pre-primary education, designed for children under six, plays a pivotal role in cognitive and emotional development—85% of a child’s brain develops between ages 0 and 5. It establishes foundational literacy and numeracy. While some government schools in J&K nurture these young learners effectively and affectionately, too many fall short.
Recently, I visited a primary school in my home district, Narabal (Budgam), along with a fellow educator for monitoring. We entered a large hall where blooming buds aged 3–5 sat silently like statues. We observed the teacher from the doorway. Suddenly, we heard her shout, “Jo shor karega usko main maarungi.” (“Whoever makes noise will be punished.”) We felt heartbroken. One 4-year-old child, Zehra, had tears welling up in her eyes. The teacher noticed us and barked, “Chup, chup, chup!” (“Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet!”), and scolded Zehra.
My friend asked the teacher why the children needed to be silent. She stared at us as if we had done something wrong. My friend responded, “Let them make noise. They’re not here to be crushed, but to enjoy and play. Dear educator, you replace their mother for six hours.”
“You are their mother for the time they are here. A mother’s lap is so important to these buds aged 3–5,” he continued. “Children learn as they play. Most importantly, in play they learn how to learn.” I closely watched their exchange. Four-year-olds are still developing self-regulation skills; scolding and shouting merely恐en fear and anxiety. We should teach impulse control, just as their mothers do. Scolding hurts a child’s emotional development and sense of self-worth.
Then, my friend gently picked up Zehra, aged under four, placed her in his lap, and gave her a biscuit. In jubilation, she said something. I asked her to repeat it louder. She pointed at my friend and remarked, “Yeh sir acha hai, mera teacher acha nahin hai.” (“This sir is good; my teacher is not.”)
We all smiled. The discussion continued, and we let happy Zehra go. I asked my colleague what to do when children make noise. He explained: redirect them gently—using puzzles or books—or ignore the noise and praise quiet, cooperative behaviour. This helps children develop self-regulation.
While addressing us both, my friend beautifully recited from Khalil Gibran: “The mother is everything. She is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness.”
Those last four words—love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness—struck me deeply. Pre-primary education must allow flexibility and choice-based learning tailored to individual styles. Play should remain the primary mode of exploration. Scolding and punishment often increase problem behaviour; ignoring noise is more effective.
My colleague added, “Children are great imitators—so give them something worthy to imitate. If you scold or punish, they learn to resolve conflicts by scolding or punishment.” Pre-primary teachers serve as mothers, philosophers, guides, and sympathisers. Sadly, many educators in J&K have reduced their role to rote teaching. The NEP 2020 remains in its infancy in our region, and its true value is lost on most teachers due to a lack of training and guidance.
Our conversation continued until the lunch bell rang—thun…thun…thun. Suddenly, sweet Zehra, with an angelic smile, toddled over and asked in broken Urdu, “Shall…shall chalo, khana kha lo, melai saath.” (“Come on, sir, have lunch with me.”) She opened her lunchbox, and I shared a spoonful of food with her gentle hands—it reminded me of my own daughters back home.
We left the school, and little Zehra waved goodbye with a magical smile that stayed with me.
The writer is a teacher at the Boys High School, Narabal
Muntashir Kifayat
mu**************@***il.com