Do Marks Matter?

The board results were out in Kashmir. Class 10 and Class 12. Numbers printed neatly on a sheet of paper. For some homes, there was celebration. For many, there was silence. And for a few, there was unbearable pressure. This is the part we rarely talk about.

Every year, after results, counselors and doctors hear the same stories. A child locking himself in a room. A teenager refusing food. A student crying through the night, terrified to face parents. In some tragic cases, the pressure turns fatal. Self-harm. Suicide attempts. Young lives ending because a percentage did not meet expectations.

Let us pause here. No exam result should carry the power to take a life. Yet we keep pushing children to the wall. Quietly. Repeatedly. Systematically. The pressure does not always come through shouting. Sometimes it comes through disappointment. Through silence. Through comparison. “Your cousin scored more.” “We expected better.” “What will people say?” “You took studies casually”....blah blah.

Children hear these words differently. They hear rejection. They hear failure. They hear that love is conditional. Parents often mean well. They want security for their children. They fear an uncertain future. But fear passed down becomes a burden. And children carry it alone.

Sadly, marks have become the language of worth. Not learning. Not growth. Not character. Conceptual understanding is gradually disappearing from classrooms. Students memorise. They reproduce. They forget. They are not encouraged to ask questions. They are trained to avoid mistakes. Education has turned into survival rather than exploration. Many students know this.

That’s why marks do not excite them as much as they excite adults. They sense the emptiness behind the race. They feel disconnected. They feel unheard. They feel trapped.

When a child harms himself after results, it is not about marks alone. It is about feeling cornered. About seeing no safe space to fail. About believing that one number has cancelled the future. This belief is taught. It is not natural.

Schools and tuition centres glorify toppers. Put their pictures on newspapers and hoardings. Broadcast their marks. Project them as letter-perfect on social media. This unhealthy trend equates human worth with marks, silently telling every other child that they matter less. Because we rarely show what happens to those who struggle. The anxiety. The shame. The loneliness. Real education was never meant to do this.

Actual education gives clarity. It helps young people understand who they are. What they are capable of. Where they can grow. It does not reduce a child to a rank. The world today is chaotic for a reason. We have produced enough intelligent minds with little wisdom. Skilled professionals with fragile inner lives.

Misplaced priorities in education have led to misplaced priorities in life. When success is defined only by achievement, failure becomes unbearable. Children need to know this truth early.

Let’s understand that marks are data. Not destiny. A low score is feedback. Not a verdict. We as families must create emotional safety first. Before expectations. Before ambitions. Ask our children how they are feeling. Not just how they performed. Listen without interrupting. Respond without judging.

Schools and Boards also carry responsibility. Assessment systems must stop pretending that one exam can measure a human being. They need to be realistic and less pretentious. Learning must return to understanding. To application. To meaning. Life does not reward those who never fail. It rewards those who adapt.

Parents and society need to stop living through children. Their lives are not unfinished dreams. Every child has a different rhythm. A different timeline. A different path. When we narrow success to marks, we broaden mental distress. When we lose that grip, we save lives.

Let us remember this during every result season. No percentage is worth a child’s silence. No rank is worth their tears. No comparison is worth their life. Education should open minds. Not close doors. It should offer hope. Not fear. And above all, it should protect children.