by Ravinder Kaur
We live in a time when parents are working harder than ever before to give their children the best possible life. Better schools. Online tuition classes. Branded clothes. Modern gadgets. Extracurricular activities. Every comfort that money can provide. Parents today are making sacrifices that previous generations may never have imagined. They work long hours, carry professional responsibilities, and dream endlessly for the success of their children. Yet, amidst all these efforts, a difficult question remains: Are we building our children’s future while unknowingly losing their childhood?
This article is not written to blame parents. In truth, this includes all of us. Because somewhere in our race to provide everything for our children, we may have forgotten to ask ourselves an important question: Do we know what our children are learning when we are not watching? Many parents know the name of their child’s school, tuition teacher, and favourite subject. But do they know what kind of videos their child watches every day? Do they know the language their children use with friends, siblings, cousins, and classmates? Do they know which voices are shaping their child’s personality?
Today, many children are growing up in homes where their strongest influence is no longer family conversations but digital content. Their jokes come from the internet. Their expressions come from social media. Their attitudes come from strangers they have never met. And gradually, their language no longer belongs entirely to their homes. The language children use today often surprises even adults.
Many words, expressions, and styles of communication carry meanings that never existed in our homes, our traditions, or our cultures. If we speak specifically about Kashmir, this concern becomes even more serious. Kashmir has always been recognised for its warmth, respect, hospitality, and soft-spoken culture. Whether in Kashmiri, Urdu, Hindi, or English, our conversations carried dignity and grace. Respect was not taught through lectures. It was absorbed naturally through observation. Children learnt manners by listening to elders speak. They learned kindness by watching families interact. They learned patience from the atmosphere around them. Today, however, many educators and parents ask the same question: What kind of language are we handing over to the next generation? Will they inherit the softness and politeness that once defined our society? Or will they inherit impatience, aggression, sarcasm, and disrespect learned from screens?
This is not merely a question about vocabulary. It is a question about culture. It is a question about identity. It is a question about who we are becoming. Another silent concern is the gradual disappearance of respect and self-discipline. Many children today know rules but do not understand discipline. They know instructions but do not understand responsibility. They know freedom but do not understand boundaries. Schools work tirelessly to teach values, discipline, punctuality, and respect. Teachers spend hours helping children become responsible individuals. Schools are giving their hundred per cent. But schools cannot replace homes. A teacher may spend six or seven hours with a child. Parents shape the remaining seventeen or eighteen hours. Schools educate children. Homes shape human beings. What happens when a child is emotionally absent from family conversations? What happens when a child spends more time with a screen than with parents? What happens when the real teacher becomes an algorithm? Children are not only learning information. They are learning attitudes. They are learning behaviour. They are learning language. And often they are learning these things far earlier than their age and emotional maturity can handle. Children today are exposed to conversations, jokes, and content that belong to much older age groups. Many repeat these words without understanding their meaning.
Many laugh at ideas they do not fully comprehend. The concern is not that children are learning. Learning is beautiful. The concern is:What are they learning? Who is teaching them?And are they learning it too early? Technology itself is not the problem. Screens are not enemies. Phones, tablets, and digital education are now an unavoidable part of modern life.
The concern begins when technology arrives without guidance. A two-year-old child holding a mobile phone has become a common sight. Many children are given screens during meals simply to keep them occupied. The child eats while scrolling. The parent feels relieved because the child is quiet. But something else is happening silently. The child’s mind is being trained to expect constant movement, constant stimulation, and constant change.
Later, the same child struggles to remain focused on a single task. Within minutes, attention shifts. The child wants to speak to a friend. Then they want to show something to the teacher. Then wants to play. Then they want to watch television. Then they want another activity. The child is not necessarily careless or disobedient. The brain has simply become accustomed to interruption. Attention span is not disappearing naturally. It is being trained away. And yet we often say, “Children today are different.” Perhaps the better question is the following: Are children different? Or have we created environments that make concentration difficult? Parents often fear that their children may experience loneliness, anxiety, or depression. These concerns are real and important. But perhaps another question deserves equal attention: Is my child learning values that I would not want them to carry into adulthood? Sometimes the first lessons of disrespect, aggression, impatience, and insensitivity are not learned in schools. Sometimes they enter quietly through our own homes. Hidden behind unlimited access. Hidden behind convenience. Hidden behind our assumption that children know how to manage what even adults struggle to control. Children need supervision. They need conversations. They need guidance. They need boundaries. Freedom without boundaries is not freedom. It is confusion. Exposure alone is not education.
A child may know how to operate every application on a phone and still not know how to speak respectfully to another human being. A child may have access to unlimited information and still not understand gratitude, patience, kindness, or responsibility. Respect for others begins with respect for oneself. And both must be taught deliberately. The greatest lessons children learn rarely come through lectures. Children learn through observation. If parents spend every meal looking at screens, children learn that screens deserve more attention than conversations. If a child approaches a parent and hears, “Wait, I am busy on my phone,” the child learns another lesson: The phone is important. People can wait. Children copy what they see far more than they obey what they hear. If parents read books, children become curious about books. If parents speak respectfully, children learn respectful speech. If parents practise patience, children learn patience. Homes remain the first schools of life. Schools strengthen values. Homes create them.
There may come a time when society starts teaching discipline, emotional intelligence, and moral values through expensive workshops and training programmes. But values were never meant to be purchased. They were meant to be lived. Just as no one can eat an entire year’s food in a single day, moral values cannot be taught in a single lesson. They are given slowly. Patiently,Repeatedly,Day after day,Conversation after conversation,Example after example,Values become habits,Habits become character,Character becomes destiny.
Parents have every right to pursue dreams for themselves and for their children. They should work hard. They should succeed. They should build better lives. But may we never reach a point where we achieve every dream we chased only to discover that the values which gave those dreams meaning were quietly lost along the way.
One day our children may forget the brand of clothes we bought for them. They may forget the tuition classes we arranged. They may forget the gadgets we gave them. But they will always remember whether someone sat beside them. Whether someone listened. Whether someone guided them. Whether someone taught them how to become good human beings. Because children do not only need parents who provide for them. They need parents who are present for them. And perhaps that is the greatest responsibility of parenting in the modern world. Har shay apne bachche ko paane do, Har manzil ko chhoone ka hausla do.
“Unhe thoda befikr hokar jeena bhi sikhaiye, Magar saath hi sanskaron ki chaabi bhi unke haath mein rakh dijiye, Kyunki Raumi manzilen insaan ko kaamyab banati hain, Par sanskar usse insaan banaye rakhte hain”
Author is Educator, poet, and writer. She can be mailed at rommykaur099@gmail.com
