08/07/2025
My Son Wears Pajamas to School, and I Think of My Own Childhood...
Since there’s been so much discussion lately around summer vacations and schooling back home in Kashmir, I felt like sharing a few schooling practices here in Germany — not as a comparison, but in the hope that someone, somewhere, might take a small cue from this.
As someone who grew up in a small, forgotten village in Kashmir, this reflection comes from a deeply personal place — not one of privilege, but of lived experience.
My childhood was tough. We sat on cold jute mats, not benches. The classrooms were bare, the walls silent, and the air often heavy — not with curiosity, but with fear. Discipline came through sticks, not support. We were shamed publicly, called names, and made to believe that failure was a reflection of our worth. We memorized to survive — not to understand.
And now, decades later, I watch my own children go to school in Germany — and sometimes I’m moved to tears, not just with joy, but with the contrast. Not because they are better off — but because I see what could have been different for us too.
Here, kids don’t wear uniforms. My son once went to school in the same pajamas he slept in — and no one bothered him . There’s no pressure to polish shoes or iron shirts. They show up as they are — and that’s enough.
The playgrounds aren’t fancy, but play is sacred. Muddy boots, scraped knees, wild laughter — they are all part of learning here.
And then come the breaks
Summer holidays? Around 50 days long.
Spring break? 15 days.
Winter break? 10 days.
And in between, national holidays that are never “compensated” by extra classes or guilt.
But what touches me the most in this School system isn’t about fear here.
It’s about self-learning, growth, and kindness.
There’s no race to be a topper.
No humiliation in getting things wrong.
Children are not pushed — they are guided, trusted, and encouraged to become who they are.
They are allowed to make mistakes. To take their time. To breathe.
As a parent, witnessing this has been healing. Not just for my children — but for the little child in me who never got this chance.
I share this with deep humility — not as someone who thinks Germany is perfect or that our schools back home are broken. But as someone who knows how important it is to dream of better. To imagine a schooling system that lifts children instead of scaring them. One that trusts them, nurtures them, and allows them to simply be.
PS. Maybe it’s worth adding — my first job in life was in school education department in Kashmir , as a Rehbar-e-Taleem teacher in remote village. I couldn’t survive more than a year. Not only because the system was broken — I, too, was never trained to be an educator. I tried, but I didn’t know how to teach with care, because I was never taught with care. That truth still sits heavy with me.
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