From ‘Star Sirs’ to show-off culture, how post-pandemic learning is losing its soul, and what we must do to save it
By Sahil Majeed
Allama Iqbal once said that the purpose of education is to awaken the self to build character before competence and faith before fortune. Real education must shape both the intellect and the soul. It should teach humility before knowledge and purpose before power. Yet today, that spirit seems to be fading.
After the COVID-19 pandemic, education shifted from classrooms to phone screens. Online platforms grew everywhere, and suddenly every home became a mini coaching centre. Parents with good intentions gave their children mobile phones, even those under 16, to study online. At first, it seemed harmless, but soon the change ran deep. Even primary, middle, and high schools formed WhatsApp groups for classes. Teachers shared notes, but students discovered a world that had little to do with learning.
This temporary shift quietly reshaped education. It changed not only how students study but how they think, talk, and behave. Many argue that online platforms produce toppers, but most of those achievers are droppers who had already studied in offline coaching. The platforms claim their results as marketing success, not creating them.
Then, something strange happened. To attract attention, many platforms began inviting social media influencers to teach physics, chemistry, and biology. Classes turned into performances. Instead of concepts, content shifted toward appearance, gossip, and personal life. Students stopped calling them teachers; they called them Star Sir or Glam Maam. Education began to resemble a reality show.
This is not progress. It is the commercialisation and objectification of learning. Education was once about discipline and respect. Now, it revolves around entertainment and engagement metrics. Show-off culture has risen, modesty has faded, and girlfriend-boyfriend trends have spread even among schoolchildren. Covid did not just move classes online; it moved childhood and character online.
Yet, offline teachers in Kashmir remain unmatched. I have been a NEET aspirant myself, and I know what real guidance looks like. The intelligence, patience, and clarity of Kashmiri teachers are unparalleled. No flashy online lecture can replace the personal touch of a teacher in a classroom. Kashmir has brilliance in its classrooms—if only society recognised it. Our teachers awaken minds, not just coach marks. When will Kashmir understand that knowledge without guidance and intelligence without values are not enough?
Every generation faces its own test. Ours is distraction. Screens teach everything except patience, humility, and reflection. Students grow up in a virtual crowd that never stops watching. Worth is measured not by understanding but by visibility. They compare scores, looks, and lifestyles, all filtered through the camera lens. They speak loudly but listen rarely; they know information but not introspection.
Discipline is fading. Respect for teachers now competes with sarcasm and slang. Classrooms have become chatrooms; learning has become performance. Influencer culture has entered education. Posing replaces pondering. Knowledge becomes entertainment dressed in filters and music. When education becomes entertainment, its soul quietly dies.
Allama Iqbal warned that a nation’s decline begins when its youth forget the purpose of their knowledge. That warning feels painfully real in Kashmir. From Srinagar to Kupwara, students are glued to screens late into the night, not to study, but to scroll. Coaching centres compete for popularity; students chase reels instead of reflection. The warmth of a teacher’s guidance is replaced by the cold light of the phone. Technology is not the enemy; misuse is. A device can connect a Kashmiri child to wisdom or trap them in vanity. The difference lies in guidance. Parents must not hand over devices without direction. Teachers must remember that they are mentors, not performers. Students must rediscover humility, the first and finest lesson of real learning.
Balance can return only when values are restored at the centre of education. Schools must teach ethics, empathy, and respect, not as slogans but as daily practice. If we fail, we may produce children who are clever but not wise, informed but not inspired. A valley full of clever minds without clear morals is not educated; it is endangered.
The writer is a Vet student at SKUAST-Kashmir
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