Teach, Don’t Traumatise

Last week, my inbox was inundated with texts from people from all walks of life. Thank you, my dear readers. Your response to, “Are Teachers Killing Creativity?” gave birth to this piece. Many of you shared heartbreaking experiences, stories of humiliation, ridicule, and emotional harm caused by teachers who were supposed to guide and protect young minds.

But one email, one soul-crushing story, refuses to leave me. It was about a professor in one of Kashmir’s varsities. Her cruelty shattered a bright, young topper so deeply that he not only abandoned the degree but continues to live with lifelong trauma. He appeared for an external viva, (CCTV footage is the proof) but he was marked absent on his grade card. The surveillance tool is installed at the coordinator’s chamber where the exam was conducted.

Dear educators, you often take a high moral ground in public, but what happens behind classroom doors tells a very different story. Too many of you have turned into something unrecognizable, using your authority to hurt, not heal. You were meant to nurture. Instead, you destroy.

A few months ago, nine-year-old Anam from Srinagar fainted after being punished for forgetting her notebook. A child was punished so harshly that she went home unconscious. What have we turned our schools into? They were supposed to be safe spaces for learning, not places that scar children for life.

In Kashmir, children carry trauma as early as they carry schoolbags. Some have seen violence with their own eyes. Some have lost parents too soon. Others grow up in a constant state of fear. And yet, we rarely pause to notice their pain. We label them as “disobedient” or “lazy” when what they really need are softer hands, patient hearts, and understanding minds.

I had mentioned Numan’s story as a passing reference in my last article, but it deserves to be told again, loudly. His teacher called him immoral just because he was trying to understand himself, to explore his identity. Is that a crime? No. But Numan was ridiculed, mocked, and emotionally torn apart by the same people who were meant to protect him. When the weight became unbearable, he took his own life.

How many more Numans do we have to lose before we admit that all schools are not always safe for our children? What will it take to hold such teachers accountable for the emotional harm they cause?

Before enrolling your child in any school, ask one simple question: Do you have a full-time counsellor? Someone trained to support a student’s emotional well-being. If not, walk away. Because no child should have to sit in a classroom that doesn’t understand their pain. And no teacher should be allowed to teach without proper training in child psychology and trauma care.

Vanessa Lobue writes in Psychology Today that children learn best when they are allowed to make mistakes. Think about a baby learning to walk. It doesn’t happen overnight. It takes weeks and months, with countless falls along the way. Every fall is part of learning. When we don’t let children fail, we rob them of resilience, the ability to face challenges and manage emotions. Babies aren’t afraid of mistakes. But as they grow up, we teach them to feel ashamed of failing. And, that is, my dear readers, where we go wrong.

Licensed Teachers?

In the US, teaching is a licensed profession. If a teacher contacts students outside of school hours, her license can be revoked. In Kashmir, the teacher of the secondary school sends inappropriate texts to a minor at odd hours. This is how low a teacher can go.

A teacher shapes minds, and that’s a huge responsibility. Without empathy, that power becomes dangerous. Let teachers observe each other’s classes and learn together. Connect with students every day to build trust and make the classroom a safe space. Take time to understand the student as a person, not as a roll number. Ask students for feedback and improve based on what they say. Use the “I do, we do, you do” method — teach practice together, then let students try independently. Focus on emotional well-being and social learning, not just academics. Encourage volunteering and internships during vacations to help students understand responsibility and humility. Let students form opinions and express them. Having an opinion is not disrespectful. Drop the bossy attitude. Respect and fear are not the same.

A reader once wrote to me, “I was the quiet kid in school. My teachers called me gumsum but never asked why. At 27, I discovered I am autistic. All my life, I thought something was wrong with me.”

That broke me. Because it is not one story — it’s hundreds. Our teachers don’t understand the complexity of children’s minds. Not every B.Ed degree holder deserves to be a teacher. Do our teachers truly prepare students for real life? If they did, our postgraduates in Biochemistry or Geography would not be working as front-desk staff in hotels and hospitals. They would be thinkers and creators.

Relearn Kindness

Teachers should undergo regular training, every month. Because teaching is not about showing off authority. It is about service. Yet, in our classrooms, arrogance rules. When a student gives a wrong answer, don’t humiliate them. You can simply say, “That’s a good try, but let’s look at it another way.” This small kindness can build confidence.

If a student’s attendance is poor, ask why. Did something happen at home? If a student fails, ask if the class was too difficult or boring. Maybe you need to change your approach. Teaching is not about blaming students; it is about understanding them.

An ideal classroom is not one where you can hear a pin drop. Silence often means fear. The best classrooms are lively — filled with curiosity, laughter, and questions. Noise means children feel safe to express themselves. Try this once, instead of making students stand to greet you, stand at the door and welcome them with a smile. It will change the atmosphere instantly. Spend a few minutes each day asking, “How are you feeling today?” It is called Social Emotional learning (SEL). It might sound small, but those few words can make a world of difference.

Inclusion and Social Intelligence

In many countries, children with and without disabilities study together in public schools. The state provides everything, books, food, stationery, even therapy, all free of cost. Here, schools still demand uniforms and fees that many can’t afford. Compassion should not be a privilege.

By the time students finish school, they should have at least 100 hours of volunteering or fieldwork. That’s how you build empathy and social responsibility. But here, we laugh at such ideas. Our education system still believes that discipline comes from fear, not understanding.

Older generations proudly say, “We were beaten by teachers, and we turned out fine.” No, you didn’t. You just learned to live with pain and call it normal. Violence, physical or emotional, leaves invisible scars that last a lifetime. Private tuitions, endless homework, and marks-driven learning have sucked the joy out of education. A real teacher is not the one who fills notebooks, but the one who reaches hearts.

Not everyone can be a teacher. You have forty different minds in your classroom, each thinking differently. Teaching is not dictating notes; it’s understanding those minds and guiding them with patience. And it begins with one promise: Teach—don’t traumatize.