aving taught over the past thirty odd years in Lahore, I feel there’s a complete shift in the way education, rather the teachers, are treated.

It is sad to see total degradation—an implosion of morals—in the societal fabric as a whole and the education sector, in particular.

Once teachers were given the utmost respect. Parents gave freer rein to teachers to instil concepts in and educate children. Now, I sometimes feel that we are no better than glorified maids, who perhaps speak and dress better; no disrespect to maids, they are just as hardworking and worthy of respect as any other professional. I say this with a sense of sadness because people generally tend to look down upon these professions, and the treatment meted out to them says it all. With a heavy heart, I say we are treated no better.

School administrations have seen a downfall as well. Where, once, they would mediate between parents and teachers, they now have little to no inclination to liaise effectively. Many have also burdened teachers with clerical work, which bogs them down along with demands of teaching children in the first place.

Teaching is no longer a place for self-actualisation. My passion for teaching has waned over the years. I have given my mind, body and vocal chords to this profession. I mention the latter with a tinge of self-deprecating humour.

In the beginning, I would look forward to going to school to learn something new along with my class. My curiosity was just as palpable as the eager minds I was willing to help, when a class would be filled with students ready to learn and be earnest in their struggle to do better. The general class composition would be: a few above average students; a majority of average students who could (and would) do better if they worked a little harder; and the tail end of strugglers, whose parents would still be involved with the teacher to ensure their child tried to do better.

Cut to today and we see a complete shift. Save for a few, a majority of the students are strugglers, who do not even wish to put in any effort. Their body language and attitude show a lack of interest and curiosity to learn or do better. You’d think parents would be more involved today or, at least, more aware of newer methods of learning. It is with regret that I say that parents are nowhere to be found. When I look at a student, I can almost immediately tell how involved (or not) a parent is in their education. More often than not, I am correct when I get the (dis)pleasure of meeting them at parent-teacher meetings.

I feel the PTMs need to be done away with. These have been reduced to a teacher-bashing session, where parents come to ridicule teachers; be rude to them; and question every single thing a teacher does. If a teacher seeks a parent’s involvement in encouraging or helping a student in some area, the response is often, “But they are with you the whole day. What are you doing during class?” The answer to this always falls on deaf ears.

The sense of entitlement over the years has been baffling. It has been growing at an alarming rate. Again, this can be detected in a student’s body language. With so many years of experience, I can safely deduce what is being said at home to make the student standing in front of me so impertinent. Whether said in as many words or not, what comes across during these encounters is something along the lines of, “We pay the school fee, hence, you (the teacher) need to do our bidding.”

I hope these words jar the parents a bit. May they understand their role in their child’s education. It is a triangle, where teachers and parents together form the base to inculcate the value of learning in the child. We do not teach to simply “earn big bucks.”

Teaching is already an underpaid profession; let’s at least not undervalue it. This is the profession that builds all other professions.

Seemeen Sadiq has over 30 years of experience in primary and secondary education in Lahore

By Sabeen Sadiq

aving seen my mother work as a teacher most of my student life, I kept digging my heels when it came to joining the profession.

I am practically a trained TA, thanks to my mum. From copy-checking, to test making and designing material for the boards, I have done it all. I rather enjoy it. But that’s where all the fun kind of ends.

Right after my university ended, my mother and her friend (also a teacher) started pushing me to become a teacher, several times in between various corporate jobs I was at. The reason was quite simple. “You go early; you come back early; and you have the whole day to yourself.” But what about the time you spend at home doing all the schoolwork, I would wonder: lesson plans, checking copies, preparing tests and so on. It was a never ending routine. I knew since I had seen my mother work late into the night.

Yet, I ended up joining the profession.

Some say that teaching is an easy profession to get into; perhaps, but it is much harder to stay in.

I have had the privilege of teaching in Lahore as well as Karachi. Trust me when I say this: there is a world of a difference between the two cities. Here follows my tale of two cities.

I feel that students and parents in Lahore act much more ‘entitled’ compared to their counterparts in Karachi. I believe that there is more respect for the working class in the latter. Parents, and in turn students, in Lahore think they own you, because they pay the school fees; in Karachi, such sense of entitlement is rare.

The administration in Karachi, too, respects teachers more and mediates between parents and teachers. I know of a school owner in Karachi, who ensures that parents do not harass teachers during parent-teacher meetings and follows them around to keep things running smoothly. This, by the way, is what is called an “elite” school, where students and their parents come from influential backgrounds. That has not deterred the management who stand by their staff. The headmaster at a leading school once stated: “Students are our clients; we need to keep them happy.” No points for guessing which city I’m talking about.

I feel sad for today’s children. While they are fairly nice students, the focus appears to be lacking. I wonder if it has to do with an increase in screen time or higher levels of ADHD?

Many find it hard to follow simple instructions. At times, it gets frustrating for the teacher. I keep sharing personal anecdotes with my students to help them relate to various situations. Once I told my class that the instructions I had given them had been shared with me by my Grade 3 maths teacher, a long time ago. I follow those to this day because those make sense and are easy to follow. As an educator, I worry that students these days have extremely short attention spans. The speed at which basic assignments are completed is abysmally slow.

As a student, I had enjoyed my studies and the time spent in class with my teachers. I was blessed to have amazing teachers throughout my schooling. I am still in touch with many of my teachers on social media.

At times, I feel quite disappointed. Time and again I am left questioning my worth and ability as a teacher. I wonder if others feel that way too. Sometimes, I laugh with my colleagues when they share their struggles. I tell them I feel bad about being glad that they, too, are struggling with their students. I feel relieved perhaps that I am not the only one having a hard time.

For all I am today, I am grateful to my teachers, including my mother. She was one of the best teachers in school but perhaps my least favourite. At home, I saw her as a strict mother; at school, I saw her as a strict teacher.

My teaching journey has just started. Let’s see where it takes me.

Sabeen Sadiq has taught at various schools in Lahore and Karachi