The system undervalues qualifications, normalises instability, and overlooks the emotional toll of constant uncertainty
Dr Towseef Bhat
There is a peculiar kind of silence that surrounds the word “contractual.” It is not loud, not aggressive, not even openly unjust at first glance. It is quiet, administrative, and normalised. But beneath that silence lies a storm of uncertainty, frustration, and unrecognised dedication, especially in the education system of Kashmir. When people hear the word “contractual,” they often think of it as temporary, flexible, or even convenient. But for those living this reality, it is none of these. It is a condition of constant instability, a life lived year-to-year, sometimes month-to-month, without assurance, without recognition, and often without dignity. I speak not as an observer, but as someone who has lived this experience, someone who has spent years working as a contractual teacher in the education department of Kashmir. Despite holding advanced qualifications like a PhD, NET, and SET, I continue to navigate a system that reduces my identity to a “need-based” employee.
At first, contractual positions appear as opportunities, especially in a region like Kashmir, where unemployment is high and permanent posts are limited. For many educated youth, these roles become the only available path to employment. We enter the system with hope, believing that our dedication and qualifications will eventually lead to stability. Every year brings the same cycle: reapplication, verification, uncertainty, and waiting. There is no continuity, no guarantee of renewal, no assurance that the next academic session will include us. It feels less like a profession and more like a test of endurance. Despite this instability, we show up. We teach with commitment. We prepare lessons, guide students, and strive to maintain academic standards. We produce results not for recognition, but because we believe in education. In classrooms across Kashmir, contractual teachers stand shoulder-to-shoulder with permanent staff, often performing the same duties, sometimes even more. But the difference lies in how we are seen.
There is little acknowledgement of our contribution. No formal appreciation, no career progression, no sense of belonging. We are present, yet invisible. Essential, yet replaceable. We are expected to deliver quality education, but the system rarely invests in our growth or stability. It is a paradox demanding excellence from individuals whose own professional lives are uncertain. still, we persist. Because teaching, for many of us, is not just a job. It is a calling.
Perhaps the most disheartening aspect of this system is the mismatch between qualifications and opportunities. Years of academic effort, completing postgraduate studies, pursuing a PhD, and clearing NET or SET are meant to prepare individuals for meaningful roles in education. These qualifications are not easy to attain. They require dedication, intellectual rigour, and often personal sacrifice. Yet, in the recruitment process, these achievements often hold little value. A simple graduate with strong memory-based performance in examinations can outrank a highly qualified candidate in merit lists. The system rewards short-term recall over long-term understanding, rote learning over critical thinking. This raises an uncomfortable question: What is the purpose of higher education if it does not translate into meaningful opportunities?
Financial instability is another harsh reality of contractual employment. Salaries are often minimal, sometimes delayed, and rarely sufficient to meet basic needs. There are no long-term benefits, no pension, no job security, no medical support. It is a life lived within limits, where planning for the future becomes nearly impossible. Regardless of these challenges, contractual teachers continue to work with sincerity. We manage our responsibilities, both personal and professional, often without complaint. Because in a place like Kashmir, where opportunities are scarce, even a temporary job becomes a lifeline.
Beyond the structural and financial challenges lies a deeper, more personal impact, the emotional toll of being “contractual.” It is the feeling of being constantly evaluated, constantly uncertain. It is the anxiety of waiting for renewal lists, the fear of being replaced, the frustration of being overlooked. It is watching others move forward in stable careers while you remain in a cycle of temporary engagements. It is the quiet disappointment of knowing that your efforts, your qualifications, and your dedication are not enough to secure permanence. And yet, we continue. Because giving up is not an option, in Kashmir, these challenges are amplified by the region’s socio-economic realities. Years of instability have already limited opportunities. The education system, which should serve as a pillar of growth and empowerment, is itself struggling with structural issues.
For many, it is not a choice but a compulsion. Within this challenging environment, teachers, contractual or otherwise, play a crucial role in shaping the future. They are the bridge between uncertainty and possibility, between limitation and aspiration. But how long can this bridge sustain itself without support?
A System In Need Of Reform
The issue is not with individuals, but with the system. A system that undervalues qualifications, overlooks training, and normalises instability cannot sustain quality education. There is an urgent need for reform. Recruitment processes must be designed to recognise and reward genuine academic achievement and professional training. Merit should reflect depth of knowledge, not just memory-based performance. Contractual positions, if necessary, should include pathways to permanence. There should be clear policies, fair evaluations, and growth opportunities. Teacher training must be prioritised, not ignored. Those who have invested years in learning how to teach should not be sidelined.
And above all, there must be recognition of effort, of dedication, of humanity. At its core, this is not just an employment issue. It is a question of dignity. Every teacher, regardless of their employment status, deserves respect, stability, and recognition. To be called “contractual” should not mean being treated as temporary in worth. We are not placeholders. We are educators. We are shaping minds, guiding futures, and contributing to society in ways that cannot be measured by contracts or merit lists.
Despite everything, there is hope. Hope that the system will evolve.Hope that voices like ours will be heard. Hope that one day, qualifications will be respected, efforts will be acknowledged, and stability will replace uncertainty.
Until then, we continue. We teach, we guide, we inspire quietly, consistently, and often without recognition. Because even in a system that lacks stability, we choose to create it for our students, if not for ourselves. And perhaps, that is the true essence of being a teacher. Not the title, not the contract, but the unwavering commitment to educate, no matter the circumstances. In Kashmir’s classrooms, behind every lesson delivered by a contractual teacher, there is a story of resilience.
A story that deserves to be heard. A story that must not remain silent.
um***********@***il.com