Discipline: a system, not a speech

During a discussion with a colleague at the university, I was advised to rethink a complaint we often make in faculty rooms: "students have changed." His point was simple but uncomfortable. Many problems we face on campus are not produced inside the university; they arrive here already shaped by years of home training, routine (or the lack of it), and the habits children develop while growing up. A university can guide, mentor and correct, but it cannot reliably rebuild what was never built: self-control, respect for limits and the ability to tolerate boredom without running to a screen.

When we talk about discipline, we usually reduce it to attendance, deadlines and classroom behaviour. Yet beneath these symptoms lie deeper drivers: poor sleep, unlimited device access uncontrolled junk food, weak reading habits, minimal household responsibilities and a culture of instant gratification. A child raised with a phone in the bedroom and entertainment on demand trains the brain to seek stimulation constantly; later we expect the same mind to sit through lectures, read chapters, meet deadlines and concentrate without external scaffolding.

Parents often say, "We tried everything (advice, scolding, soft talk), but nothing works." I understand the exhaustion behind that line, but it also reveals a misunderstanding: discipline is not primarily a speech; it is a system. When access is unlimited and consequences are inconsistent, words (whether gentle or loud) become background noise. Long arguments teach one lesson only: if I push long enough, the boundary becomes flexible. Calm repetition, paired with consistent outcomes, teaches something better: rules matter.

The modern home is under new pressure. Screens are engineered to hold attention, AI makes shortcuts tempting, and junk food is designed for craving. Control cannot be occasional; it must be built into daily life. A practical start is a small set of non-negotiables: devices do not go to bed, homework comes before entertainment, meals happen without screens, sleep has a fixed time, and some physical movement is part of the day. These are not punishments; they are operating conditions for a healthy mind.

In many households, discipline collapses because love is expressed through indulgence, sometimes reinforced by elders: "Let the child enjoy." Elders can be a stabilising force if the family agrees on one principle: affection should never cancel boundaries. Offer time, attention, shared meals, stories and walks and not just unlimited screens, late-night viewing or daily junk.

Schools also carry responsibility. Many complain about phones but tolerate them; others overload students with work but do not teach reading habits, time management or digital hygiene. Clear phone policies, protected reading time, basic study routines, and guidance on ethical AI use as a learning assistant and not a cheating machine would help children arrive at university with stronger habits. The goal is not to demonise technology, but to teach children how to live with it without being owned by it.

Universities must reflect as well. If the problem begins earlier, we should not pretend we are helpless. First-year orientation should be practical: how to read, take notes, plan work and manage distractions. Counseling and academic support should be treated as essential, not optional. Assessment design matters too: in the age of AI, integrity improves when we value process (i.e. drafts, reflections, in-class work and viva-style checks) so understanding becomes visible and shortcuts become harder.

Indeed, discipline is a shared project across a child's whole environment. Parents provide routine, elders protect consistency, schools build habits and universities refine maturity. When one layer fails, the next struggles. The aim is not to raise robots with no leisure; it is to raise young people who can control leisure instead of being controlled by it. In that way one may become stable human beings who can live with limits, recover from setbacks and build a life on purpose rather than impulse.