The Roots before the Fruit
We are a strange people those who claim to speak the truth, follow principles, and value sincerity but only as long as our personal interests remain safe. The moment the winds shift against us, our commitment to values conveniently melts away. We say honesty is the best virtue, yet when it affects our benefit, we justify dishonesty with the phrase: “Everyone else does the same.” Hypocrisy, once considered a flaw, has become a common excuse to escape the burden of doing the right thing.
We are slowly becoming a nation that knows the truth, acknowledges the truth, but hesitates to act upon it. We teach our children lessons of honesty, punctuality, duty, and truthfulness in their textbooks, but when the time comes to model those lessons in our own lives, we are often standing elsewhere. This double standard is not only damaging it is destroying the very soul of our education system.
These are not just philosophical musings. This is a bitter, undeniable reality deeply rooted in the veins of our schooling structure. The corruption of values does not begin in college or even in secondary school. It begins at the very foundation the primary level. And until we accept this truth, we cannot hope for real reform.
I once witnessed a striking and unforgettable conversation between a primary schoolteacher and a high school principal. What they said wasn’t just an exchange of opinions it was a mirror to the conscience of every teacher, every administrator, and every parent. It was a conversation that, if we truly listened, could shake us into much-needed introspection.
The primary schoolteacher, seemingly concerned, said:
“Sir, last year you failed many students in the board exams. This year, please be a little lenient. Don’t be too strict.”
The principal, calm and composed, replied:
“Leniency can only come through hard work. Your staff must focus more on the children so that their foundations are strong and results improve.”
The teacher, rather bluntly, responded:
“What does our hard work have to do with your students’ results? That’s your department.”
The principal paused, then replied with an honesty that carried weight:
“I don’t run a factory that receives well-trained, pre-assembled students for Class 6th . I have to teach the same children that your department prepares. If they come to us without basic understanding or discipline, how can we perform miracles?”
This is where our crisis begins. We blame each other, point fingers, create justifications but we never stop to hold ourselves accountable. We want to build tall, impressive buildings without laying strong foundations. And when the walls begin to collapse, we blame only the mason never the architect.
The principal continued, giving an example:
“If you sow seeds in two types of land one fertile and one barren but you fail to water, fertilize, or till the barren land, will crops grow there? Of course not. And yet, every year, we expect miracles from barren preparation.”
His analogy struck a chord. It painted a painful but accurate picture of our education system. A child in primary school is like a blank page. Whatever you write there love, discipline, knowledge, or neglect remains imprinted for life. This is the most crucial phase of learning. And if we, the educators at the base of this system, fail to nourish young minds, if we focus only on covering textbooks, conducting exams, and maintaining attendance registers, we are setting them up for failure.
What’s more tragic is that the failure won’t show immediately. It will appear years later, when that same child, now in Class 9 or 10, is unable to write a sentence correctly, solve a simple math problem, or express thoughts clearly. And then, we blame the high school teachers for poor results.
The teacher in the conversation still wasn’t convinced.
“But sir,” she insisted, “your staff doesn’t teach well either. I’ve heard complaints from parents.”
The principal, with patience, replied:
“If my teachers spend the entire academic year trying to undo what your teachers left undone, when will they cover the current syllabus? The board has strict standards. Students must attempt full-length papers with understanding. If they don’t, they won’t receive marks. Yet we are expected to show 100% results.”
This wasn’t just an argument between two professionals it was a tragic testimony to the slow collapse of an entire educational structure. On one hand, we have parents who are often indifferent treating school as a formality, rarely checking homework or attending meetings. On the other hand, there are teachers, overburdened and under-resourced, who often see the job as routine and the students as numbers.
And as if this weren’t enough, government policies constantly shift the curriculum. One year it’s English medium, the next year it’s Urdu. Rationalization transfers shuffle teachers like pieces on a chessboard. Funds are delayed. Training is rare. Supervision is inconsistent. In such chaos, the only constant is the student and it is the student who suffers the most.
The principal added wisely:
“If the government is truly serious about educational reform, it must go beyond slogans and seminars. It should legislate compulsory education till matric. It should penalize parents who fail to ensure regular attendance. And it must strengthen the base primary education through proper teacher training, accountability, and resources.”
He then sighed and said with quiet pain:
“You speak of your students but I also know that cheating happens during board exams. We don’t report it, not because we support it, but because we know: if the roots are weak, no fruit will be sweet. We are trapped in a system where silence seems easier than truth.”
That statement hit me like a lightning bolt. Is this really what we’ve become? A system that accepts weak roots and demands sweet fruit? A chain of teachers where each link shifts blame to the other, forgetting that we are all one system one mission one nation?
My heart trembled at that moment. We expect our secondary school teachers to turn unprepared children into scholars. We expect principals to ensure 100% results even when the foundation is filled with cracks. But how can you expect a building to stand tall when the bricks were never laid properly?
We must think seriously, deeply, urgently.
If we truly want progress for our children, our communities, our Pakistan we must begin with the root. With primary education. We must change our attitudes. We must rise above petty blame games and short-term conveniences. We must side with truth even when it hurts our personal gain.
Let us not be a nation known only for chasing “success” let us be a nation remembered for nurturing character. Not just for producing results, but for valuing effort. Not for rote memorization, but for promoting understanding.
If we truly believe in sincerity if we truly believe in integrity we must prove it in our classrooms, our staffrooms, and our examination halls. We must be the kind of teacher who lights lamps, not just corrects papers. The kind who teaches not only the syllabus, but also life.
Let us teach our children with love not fear. With responsibility not indifference. With honesty not shortcuts.
Let us become the kind of educator who, years later, a student points to and says:
“This is what a true teacher looks like.”
