When the Bell Rings but Freedom Doesn’t Come
Every morning, I wake up to the same suffocating routine. The alarm blares at 5:30 a.m., and before my eyes fully adjust to the dim light, my mind is already weighed down by the dread of another day at school. This isn’t the kind of exhaustion that fades after a cup of chai. It’s deeper—a slow erosion of my spirit, a feeling that my school, once a place of curiosity and growth, has become a soul-crushing machine.
The Relentless Grind of Academics
Indian schools are often celebrated for their rigorous academic standards, but behind that reputation lies a system that prioritizes rote learning over genuine understanding. Our classrooms feel less like spaces for exploration and more like factories churning out students trained to memorize formulas, historical dates, and textbook definitions. Teachers rush through syllabi, their eyes fixed on finishing portions rather than nurturing curiosity. Questions like “Why does this matter?” or “How does this connect to the real world?” are met with impatient sighs.
Exams amplify this pressure. Every test is treated as a life-or-death event. Parents compare marks like trophies, and teachers use fear tactics to motivate us: “Fail this, and you’ll end up sweeping streets.” The irony? Many of us are too drained to care about the subjects we’re supposedly mastering. We’re not learning; we’re surviving.
The Invisible Chains of Routine
Structure is important, but what happens when structure becomes a cage? My school day stretches for nearly 10 hours, including “optional” coaching classes that everyone is pressured to attend. By the time I return home, the sun has set, and my brain feels like mush. Evenings blur into a haze of homework, revisions, and panic-induced cramming. Weekends? They’re just extensions of the same cycle.
There’s no room for hobbies, creativity, or rest. The few times I’ve tried sketching or writing poetry, I’ve been scolded for “wasting time.” Sports and arts are treated as distractions, not essentials. The message is clear: Your worth is tied to your academic performance. Everything else is frivolous.
The Isolation of Being “Ungrateful”
When I try to voice my feelings, adults dismiss them. “You’re lucky to have an education,” they say. “We didn’t have these opportunities growing up.” Guilt creeps in. Maybe I am ungrateful. But gratitude shouldn’t mean silence in the face of burnout.
The truth is, many of my classmates feel the same way. We bond over shared exhaustion, whispering about how we’re “counting days until graduation.” Yet, we rarely speak up. Fear of judgment—from teachers, parents, even peers—keeps us trapped in a cycle of pretense. We smile through parent-teacher meetings and nod when relatives boast about our “bright futures,” all while feeling emptier by the day.
The Myth of the “Perfect Student”
Schools here often glorify the “ideal student”: someone who scores 95%+, participates in every competition, and balances academics with extracurriculars effortlessly. But this archetype is a myth. Behind every top scorer’s smile is a story of sleepless nights, anxiety, and sacrificed passions.
The pressure to fit this mold is crushing. When I see classmates juggling tuition classes, projects, and Olympiad prep, I wonder: Are we raising a generation of achievers or a generation of burnt-out robots? The system doesn’t account for mental health. Counselors, if they exist at all, focus on career advice, not emotional well-being.
Finding Light in Small Rebellions
Despite the gloom, I’ve discovered tiny acts of resistance. During lunch breaks, my friends and I steal moments to talk about things that actually interest us—music, movies, dreams that don’t involve engineering or medicine. We’ve started a secret book club, trading novels under desks. These moments feel like gulps of air in a suffocating room.
I’ve also learned to redefine success. Maybe getting top grades isn’t the only way to thrive. I’ve begun writing journal entries at night, not for marks, but to untangle my thoughts. It’s a small step, but it reminds me that my voice matters beyond report cards.
A Plea for Change
This isn’t just about me or my school. It’s about an education system that equates discipline with control and achievement with suffering. Schools need to ask: Are we preparing students for life, or just training them to endure?
Teachers could start by fostering curiosity over compliance. What if exams tested critical thinking instead of memorization? What if timetables included mental health breaks or creative workshops? Parents could shift focus from ranks to effort, celebrating resilience as much as results.
Most importantly, students need permission to be human—to rest, to fail, to explore without fear.
The Way Forward
I don’t hate learning. In fact, I crave it. I want to understand how cells function, debate historical events, and solve math puzzles without the shadow of marks looming over me. Education shouldn’t drain souls; it should ignite them.
Until things change, I’ll keep carving out spaces for myself. I’ll daydream in boring lectures, scribble poems in margin spaces, and remind myself that this phase isn’t forever. My school may have dimmed my light, but it hasn’t snuffed it out. And that’s enough to keep going.
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