The new classroom

A look into the changes in student-teacher relationships over the years

Before she got married and switched cities some 30 years ago, my mother used to teach at a secondary school in Punjab. Recently, while attending a wedding here in Karachi, she was tapped on the shoulder by a woman I did not recognise. She looked to be around 40-something and was accompanied by who I assume to be her daughter. “Excuse me,” she said to my mother. “You look awfully familiar. Were you, by any chance, my 9^th grade biology teacher? I used to live in Wah Cantt, Punjab, around 1981?”

My mother put down her plate of gulab jamuns and eyed the woman carefully. “Yes, I did teach while I was in Wah,” she said before mouthing out a wild guess. “Wait! Are you, Ayesha? You were the one who caught measles and had to miss a whole term, weren’t you?” It was then that the two descended into a cacophony of laughter, family introductions and memories, followed by a warm hug and an exchange of telephone numbers. I, along with the lady’s teenage daughter, simply stood there lost and confused, not knowing how to react.

Well, I don’t know about the girl but I think I felt so awestruck because, as a teacher myself, I know none of my students would have come to me had we run into each other at a wedding. Times have changed and today, the student-teacher relationship is in stark difference to what it used to be during my mother’s time three decades ago. Few students today would want to socialise with a former or even current teacher after having left school, let alone while they remain their students. Based on my own experiences, if I encounter a student outside the school premises, the ensuing drama is nothing short of hilarious. For instance, on one occasion at a grocery store I had to break the ice myself by saying, “Nice to run into you here.” And unsurprisingly that was the last time I saw that student at the store. Other times, we simply avoid eye-contact and act like shampoo bottles and tissue boxes hold the secrets to our future and require our utmost concentration. Of course, there are some exceptions but in general, children and young adults today are reluctant to associate with teachers beyond the minimal interaction required at their respective institutions. But why is that?



To find out, I decided to take the matter up with some colleagues of my mother’s and myself. Narmeen Khan*, another former student of my mother’s, believes the deterioration of the student-teacher relationship is indicative of how the notion of ‘respect’ has evolved in our society. “During our days, children were brought up to respect authority, whether they are right or wrong. But today, children question such rules,” explains Narmeen. “These days, children are no longer content with simply being told to blindly respect their elders.” However, Salima Aslam*, who gave teaching over 10 years of her life, disagrees with this claim. According to her, the fault lies primarily in the quality of the education system prevalent across Pakistan today which focuses more on formal teaching and less on developing students’ interpersonal skills. “Schooling used to be a lot less structured than it is now. There used to be little emphasis on extracurricular activities, straight ‘A’ grades and cutthroat competition for college applications,” says Salima. “Also, children would start school at a stable age rather than at three when they can barely hold themselves up.”  According to her, the fact that most children attended schools within their neighbourhoods also meant that their families knew the teachers outside of school as well. “This is why there was respect for the teacher — not simply as a figure of authority but because they shared a more personal connection,” she adds.

The more I delved into the matter, the more I realised that Salima’s sentiments are echoed by many of her peers. Najma Qureshi*, a teacher at one of Karachi’s premier English medium schools, compares her pupils with herself back in the day and is left disturbed. “I remember thinking of my teachers as second to my parents,” she shares. “And this wasn’t out of fear! Yes, the superior at my convent school would occasionally wave a cane in the air to scare us but she never used it.” The feeling of admiration, Najma believes, was led by students’ keen interest in learning. She claims that previous generations were aware that being schooled at one of the best institutions was an honour their parents have tried hard to give them. Today, however, most young students seem to lack an understanding of hard work and shy away from building connections with their educators. “Most of them [the students] study here simply because their parents can afford to pay exorbitant school fees,” says Najma, adding that this materialism has taken a toll on social values and the passion for learning.

Although Najma’s perception seems a tad extreme and far-fetched, I personally know of students who entertain such rigid mindsets, such as A-level student Faraz Talib*. “In order to get into an Ivy League college in US, I have to get excellent grades, adequate experience of volunteer work and participate in sports activities as well,” says Faraz, when I asked about his career plans. In order to achieve all of this, Faraz doesn’t bat an eyelid before skipping a few of his classes so as to accommodate his co-curricular appointments. “I can always catch on the missed work at tuition centres,” he says, nonchalantly. So I suppose it isn’t surprising that an educational institution for most students today is simply a passport for a better life. Amongst this, teachers tend to become derelict remnants of a bygone era, rendered all the more obsolete by electronic exam guides, the internet and tuition centres.



Yet, my research highlighted an interesting aspect: students hailing from different social classes regarded teachers in different ways. I breached the question whether students from less privileged families were more interested in learning and therefore, treated their teachers better?  Sadia Mumtaz*, a teacher at a girls primary school in a lower-income area of Karachi, affirmed my suspicion. “You would be surprised if you see how eager these children are to learn; to read and write despite their challenging circumstances,” she says. “They admire their educators as they think they possess the power to shape their destinies,” she adds. Many times, Sadia is approached by old students of hers —  most of whom now have respectable jobs —  to thank her for the hard work and effort she put into their education. “They often leave me teary eyed because I know how hard they struggled to reach where they are today. The reason behind their humility is that they never forget where they come from,” adds Sadia.

All in all, it appears that somewhere during the last few decades, there was a trade-off between personal ambition and education. Students’ attitude towards their teachers and educational institute is determined by what they think they will achieve out of the time spent at school. In the yesteryears, people tended to be more respectful towards their teachers as they believed that a school was another home where they could learn about the world and become better human beings. Today, the same schools have become mere stepping stones for a better income. While this implies that today’s generations are much more ambitious, it has come at the cost of minimising the value they place in schools. Lost respect for teachers, however, as part of the schooling experience is an unfortunate corollary.

*Names have been changed to protect privacy

Saif Asif Khan is a political economist who has taught part-time at various academic institutions in Karachi

Published in The Express Tribune, Ms T, January 3^rd, 2016.