The Indian education system is often critiqued for its focus on rote learning and its lack of emphasis on critical thinking. But what does this truly mean for a student who spends 14 formative years in this system? How does it shape their perspective on individuality, confidence, and their role in society?
There is a core difference between the global and Indian education systems, leading to an unintended, unfortunate consequence
When we look at education systems in countries like the U.S., the U.K., Finland, or parts of Europe, their approach to learning takes a fundamentally different route. A typical question posed to students in these systems might sound like this:
What does Person A think? What does Person B think? What does Person C think? Now, what do you think?
This simple question pushes students to engage at the deepest level, encouraging them to develop their own perspectives and thoughts. In contrast, the Indian system leans more toward:
What does Person A think? What does Person B think? Now, how much of this do you remember (because you’ll be tested on it)?
The focus is on retention and production of information rather than reflection. This message isn’t direct. And it is not that adults want children to think they don’t matter. But when no one consistently asks children for their point of view, they start to believe – ‘What I think does not matter’. By the time students graduate, despite having exceptional academic skills and inherent intelligence, many of them don’t know what they like or dislike, don’t know their strengths, weaknesses, and aspirations and feel that their value lies in aligning with successful people.
When these students apply to global institutions, they are suddenly asked to articulate their point of view. And this is often the first time they are confronted with the idea that their voice matters.Take, for example, the dreaded personal essay required for international college applications. It is common knowledge that a significant proportion of Indian students struggle with questions like – “What is your story?” or “Why do you want to pursue this path?”. This isn’t because they lack a story or ambition. It is because they have rarely been asked to think about themselves.
The contrast is evident when Indian students raised in foreign education systems tackle these questions effortlessly. They have been trained, through years of practice, to think for themselves.
My Personal Experience
My first attempt at reflective writing came at the age of 22, while applying for the Teach For India Fellowship. It took months to piece together a halfway-decent essay. Fast forward to age 30, with seven years of work experience and a child, answering “Why do you want to join ISB?” should have been easier. It wasn’t. The GMAT was tough, but the essay? Pure agony. And I take pride in saying that I have studied in one of the finer schools of the country.
There is often an environment, both at home and at school, that is perpetuating this issue.
The root of this issue lies not in India’s rich educational heritage but in the colonial-era model that unfortunately continues to shape our institutions and culture at home today. In the Gurukul system or Rabindranath Tagore’s Shanti Niketan, students not only learned academic subjects but also discovered their strengths, weaknesses, and purpose through debates, discussions, and mentorship from their teachers. The colonial legacy has bred a culture where challenging authority or expressing individuality is frowned upon, stifling the very qualities that once defined the essence of Indian education. We have all encountered similar situations:
Respect Over Questions: Children asking questions of parents or teachers are often seen as disrespectful. For instance, questioning religious rituals is met with chiding rather than explanations. “Don’t ask, just do it. It’s for the family’s good,” is a common refrain.
Obedience Over Individuality: Assertiveness—whether it’s a child saying “I don’t want to hug this relative” or an adult saying “I don’t agree to this approach”—is frowned upon.
International Schools are tackling this issue by leveraging what the privileged have always known.
When I taught at an IB school, I witnessed a practice that stuck with me: rubrics defining “excellence.” For every assessment, students, as young as 7-8 years, were given a clear rubric (put up on the board) explaining what was required to achieve different levels, from “poor” to “excellent.”
- A poor grade meant stating a fact without supporting evidence.
- An excellent grade meant presenting an original thought with supporting examples.
At first, I assumed every student would aim for “excellent” and quickly achieve it. But I was wrong. In a class of 25, only 7-8 students consistently scored “excellent” at the start of the year. By the end, this number would have grown to 18-19, across all subjects. This taught me two things:
Knowing what excellence looks like doesn’t guarantee success: It provides a roadmap for improvement, but achieving excellence requires constant practice.
Privilege plays a role. Students with the means to access guidance, resources, or experiences understand and practice critical thinking earlier. It is no coincidence that students from such schools often go on to pursue careers aligned with their interests and passions, often at the top, prestigious, global universities.
Here is what we can do. Like, Immediately. Starting off with a simple practice: Ask the child, “What do you think? What makes you think that?”
This is one small habit. But, a powerful one. This one habit changes how children process and respond to the world. And really, that’s all critical thinking is. At its core, critical thinking is about understanding why we think the way we do, identifying the logic behind our opinions, and being able to defend or evolve those opinions when challenged.
Now imagine this: for 20 years of their lives, children are consistently asked, “What do you think, and why?” This one shift could transform how they face challenges, make decisions, and engage with the world. We would be shaping a generation of thinkers—confident, curious, capable individuals who know their worth and their voice.
Let us start building a generation of original thinkers. One step at a time. One question at a time.
** This particular article steers away from systemic barriers like teacher training or policy reforms, focusing instead on straightforward, actionable steps that parents, teachers, and mentors can implement immediately.
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