HOW CHILDREN FAIL — A HEALING DIALOGUE
- Madhukar Dama
- Apr 12
- 8 min read
SCENE 1: ARRIVAL AT THE HERMIT’S HOME
The mud path was still wet from last night’s rain.
Harish walked fast, fidgeting with his phone, trying to find signal.
Revathi followed, holding Aditya’s wrist tightly.
The boy’s schoolbag, almost empty, hung loosely on his shoulders.
They reached a clearing, where a neem tree cast a cool shade.
Beneath it sat Madhukar — cross-legged on a grass mat, shaping a lump of clay into a diya.
MADHUKAR:
without looking up
You’ve come a long way — carrying something heavier than that schoolbag, hmm?
HARISH:
We… we heard of you through a friend.
He said you help people when doctors and counsellors give up.
REVATHI:
Our son… Aditya.
He’s only in sixth standard.
But he’s already failing.
In everything.
MADHUKAR:
flicks water on the clay, smiling
Is he failing?
Or are the numbers failing to understand him?
HARISH:
With due respect, sir — he doesn’t study.
He stares out of the window.
He scored 21 in math.
No interest in anything.
His teacher says he’s “not serious.”
REVATHI:
We’ve tried tuition, discipline, even rewards.
But nothing works.
I taught for 10 years… I know children.
But this one… he’s slipping away.
MADHUKAR:
looks at Aditya gently
And what do you say, young one?
Are you slipping?
ADITYA:
barely audible
I like clouds more than numbers.
Silence. A breeze. A leaf falls near Madhukar’s knee.
MADHUKAR:
What if I told you — children don’t fail.
They hide.
When the world becomes too noisy, too scary, too sharp…
They hide inside themselves.
Behind “failure.”
Behind silence.
HARISH:
But how will he survive?
This world is a race.
MADHUKAR:
You say that as if it’s true.
But what if the race itself is the sickness?
REVATHI:
Then what do we do?
Just let him stare at clouds?
MADHUKAR:
Yes.
And maybe sit beside him.
And ask — what does that cloud look like to you?
You see, when children learn out of fear, they learn to pretend.
But when they learn out of curiosity, they grow roots.
ADITYA:
quietly
No one ever asked me what I see in the clouds.
MADHUKAR:
Then today is a good day to begin.
---
SCENE 2: THE BURDEN OF THEIR OWN SCHOOLBAGS
Madhukar pours warm herbal tea into clay cups.
The scent of tulsi, lemongrass, and memory rises.
Harish sits stiffly, looking at the hills.
Revathi gently brushes dust off Aditya’s shirt.
Madhukar places a cup in front of each of them.
MADHUKAR:
Have you ever asked yourselves — why are you so afraid of your son’s failure?
HARISH:
Because we’ve seen what happens.
One small slip… and a child gets left behind.
It’s a jungle out there.
MADHUKAR:
And who created that jungle?
Was it children?
Or frightened adults, running in circles, calling it progress?
REVATHI:
I was a good student.
Always top 3 in class.
But even I felt afraid… every single day.
MADHUKAR:
So the fear didn’t leave you.
You just changed roles — from student to parent.
Still carrying the same schoolbag, hmm?
Heavy with expectations, comparisons, shame.
HARISH:
But it’s our duty to prepare him for reality.
MADHUKAR:
No.
Your duty is to protect his reality from being crushed.
His joy.
His questions.
His wonder.
That is what the world needs most.
REVATHI:
But what if he becomes lazy?
Irresponsible?
MADHUKAR:
Then ask — did we nurture laziness?
Or did we drain his energy with our anxiety?
No child is born lazy.
They become tired… of not being seen.
ADITYA:
I don’t hate math.
I just don’t get why I’m doing it.
Why everything has to be a test.
MADHUKAR:
Beautiful.
The first spark of truth.
He doesn’t hate learning.
He hates being watched while he tries.
Harish lowers his eyes.
Revathi slowly lets go of the worry she’s been clutching like a diary.
MADHUKAR:
When a plant doesn’t flower, we don’t blame the flower.
We check the soil.
The sunlight.
The roots.
Shall we do the same for your son?
---
SCENE 3: THE FIRST UNSCHOOLING STEP
The wind is softer now.
Aditya walks barefoot near the vegetable patch.
A butterfly lands briefly on his thumb.
Revathi watches him — something is shifting inside her.
MADHUKAR:
Unschooling is not about removing school.
It’s about removing fear.
Removing labels like “bright,” “weak,” “backbencher.”
It’s about giving the child back to life.
HARISH:
But we aren’t trained for this.
We don’t know how to teach like this.
MADHUKAR:
Good.
Don’t teach.
Just learn beside him.
Become co-travellers in his curiosity.
Can you do that?
REVATHI:
I always thought teaching meant control.
Keeping things in order.
MADHUKAR:
That’s how fear teaches.
Love teaches through chaos.
Through experiments.
Through silence.
Through asking, “What do you feel?” instead of “Did you understand?”
ADITYA:
Can I learn about trees?
And stars?
And animals?
Not just what's in textbooks?
MADHUKAR:
Not only can you — you must.
Because real learning includes the world, not just the syllabus.
And your curiosity is the only real syllabus I trust.
HARISH:
But what about the future?
Degrees? Jobs?
MADHUKAR:
What is a job if the soul is sick?
What is a degree if the mind has gone numb?
The child who grows with joy will find a way.
The one who grows with fear will lose his way — no matter how qualified.
REVATHI:
I feel like I’ve been seeing him through the eyes of my teachers.
Not through my own.
Not through his.
MADHUKAR:
Then your real education begins today.
Let him teach you how to see again.
ADITYA:
Can I plant something here?
A seed?
MADHUKAR:
Yes.
Plant a seed.
And with it, plant a promise —
That you will never again rush your own growing.
Aditya kneels and gently presses a tamarind seed into the soft earth.
The sun breaks through the clouds.
A silent lesson begins.
---
SCENE 4: THE RETURN TO THE CITY
The car winds down the mud path.
Madhukar stands at the gate, waving silently.
Revathi glances at the rearview mirror — his figure growing smaller.
Aditya clutches a notebook filled with leaves, sketches, and questions.
HARISH:
It already feels like a dream.
Will we be able to hold on to it back there?
REVATHI:
We’ll be tested.
The neighbors.
The school principal.
Even our own doubts.
But I want to try.
ADITYA:
Can we keep learning at home too?
Not just homework — but real learning?
HARISH:
We’ll try, son.
But we need to unlearn first.
Maybe more than you.
REVATHI:
No more shouting during studies.
No more “why can’t you be like others?”
I’m done comparing.
ADITYA:
Can I help in the kitchen?
And learn music?
And fix my old toy robot?
HARISH:
Yes.
Let’s start with music and cooking.
And build from there.
Slowly.
REVATHI:
It won’t be perfect.
But it will be real.
The car halts at a red light.
Outside, a large tuition center billboard flashes: “TOPPER FACTORY — IIT STARTERS FROM LKG.”
Harish looks away.
HARISH:
That’s not our path anymore.
We’re not sending our child to a factory.
We’re sending him back to life.
ADITYA:
Can I write to Madhukar sometimes?
REVATHI:
Of course.
Let’s all write to him.
Maybe even send photos of your plants.
HARISH:
And when we forget…
When the noise of the city gets too loud…
We’ll remember the silence of his home.
And the taste of that tea.
The signal turns green.
They drive on — not faster, but lighter.
---
SCENE 5: THE TESTS THEY NEVER EXPECTED
It has been two months.
The notebooks are now filled with doodles, stories, and soil stains.
Aditya hums while cooking with Revathi.
He names each plant on the balcony.
NEIGHBOR AUNTY:
You removed him from tuitions?
Are you mad?
How will he survive without competition?
HARISH:
He’s surviving.
He’s smiling.
That’s enough for now.
RELATIVE ON PHONE:
So no exams this year?
How will he get into college?
REVATHI:
He’ll grow.
And when it’s time, the path will find him.
ADITYA (WHISPERING):
Am I really allowed to learn this way?
What if I forget everything they’re learning in school?
HARISH:
You are allowed.
And we’ll help you remember what truly matters.
REVATHI:
Some days I panic.
When I see other kids in uniforms rushing with bags.
I feel like a bad mother.
HARISH:
You're a braver mother than most.
It takes courage to let go of fear.
That night, the family sits on the floor, listening to music.
Aditya plays a rhythm he created with spoons and bowls.
MADHUKAR (LETTER VOICEOVER):
Dear ones,
There will be many tests — but none on paper.
Your test is this —
Can you remain honest when the world rewards pretense?
Can you stay soft in a world rushing toward hardness?
Revathi reads the letter aloud, tears quietly forming.
MADHUKAR (LETTER CONTINUED):
Remember, the child is not failing.
He is feeling.
He is forming.
Don’t interrupt the miracle.
The world is quick to label what it does not understand. When a child struggles, when their behavior shifts or their progress seems slower than expected, the rush to fix, to impose, to "correct" can often drown out the quieter truths. In these moments, the child’s world is not something to be fixed—it is something to be observed, nurtured, and understood.
Children are not born as blank slates, but as intricate beings with their own experiences and perceptions. These perceptions might be raw, messy, difficult for adults to comprehend, but they are real. The way a child processes emotions, the way they engage with the world, is a tender negotiation. It is through this messiness that they form their sense of self, their understanding of love, and their place in the world.
The mistake lies in thinking that growth happens in straight lines, or according to a fixed timeline. When we impose the timelines of "success" onto children, we forget that each child’s growth is as unique as the rhythm of a heartbeat. There is no one-size-fits-all solution, no single path to a happy, well-adjusted individual.
The Pressure of Expectations
Parents often carry with them a mountain of expectations—some spoken, some unspoken—about how their children should turn out. These expectations are often rooted in societal norms, family traditions, or personal hopes. But do we ever stop to ask: are these expectations serving the child, or are they serving us?
Imagine, for a moment, that you are a child again. Now imagine the weight of someone else’s dream upon your shoulders. What if that dream is something that feels foreign to you, something that doesn’t resonate with your own inner rhythm? The pressure to succeed according to someone else's rules can stifle creativity, self-expression, and self-worth. It can prevent the child from exploring their own path.
The Dance of Support and Freedom
So, what is the role of a parent, a mentor, or a guide? It is not to control the dance, but to hold space for it. It is to offer the hand of guidance, not as a leash, but as a lifeline. To show the child that mistakes are not failures but opportunities to grow. To teach them that their worth is not measured by performance, but by their very existence, by their ability to feel deeply, to question, to wonder, and to learn in their own time.
The Art of Patience
Patience is the quiet art of trusting the process. It is the understanding that there will be moments of frustration, but these moments are part of the child's formation. They are the pieces of clay being molded, the brushstrokes on the canvas of their becoming. And in this process, there will be mess—there will be tears, tantrums, rebellion, confusion, and moments of silence. But they are all part of the dance.
When you stop expecting immediate results, when you stop trying to fix everything, the child can breathe more freely. They can explore the world in their own way. They can find their own voice.
In the end, the true measure of success is not in how quickly or neatly a child becomes what the world expects them to be, but in how deeply they are allowed to feel, explore, and form their own identity. So, next time you see your child struggling, remember: it is not a failure. It is the unfolding of something much more beautiful and meaningful.
Let them be. Trust them. And most importantly, trust the miracle of their growth.
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