Lethal Pedagogy

It takes an extraordinary failure of judgment for a school to forget its prime duty of protecting the child. This is precisely what happened in Palghar, where a Class 6 student died days after she was allegedly forced to do 100 sit-ups with her schoolbag strapped to her back for the simple offence of arriving late. The 12-year-old’s death is a searing indictment of an education culture that remains in far too many corners of India both authoritarian and indifferent to the dignity of children.

The child, who was already burdened by fragile health, was subjected to a punishment that would test even the fittest adult. Her mother says she staggered home in agony, unable to stand, weeping from searing pain in her neck and back. When confronted, the teacher allegedly defended the ordeal as the sort of ‘strictness’ that is expected in a fee-paying school where parents demand results. Corporal punishment in India is supposedly banned. The Right to Education Act and various juvenile-justice provisions promise a protective, nurturing environment.

But the enforcement is sporadic, coupled with weak oversight and social attitudes often permissive. Many parents still regard physical punishment as a ‘normal’ and even a necessary instrument of learning.

This tragedy is not without precedent. From Tamil Nadu to Uttar Pradesh, students have died or been permanently disabled after being beaten, slapped forced into stress positions or humiliated in class. Such incidents rarely result in more than perfunctory inquiries or cosmetic training sessions. The deeper problem of schools valuing obedience over curiosity and rote learning over emotional development remains unaddressed.

Palghar’s case is especially chilling because it speaks to something darker than mere negligence. The punishment seems to have been carried out not in a moment of temper, but as standard operating procedure. The teacher’s alleged defence reveals a corrosive market logic invading the classroom. If education is treated as a transaction, discipline becomes a performance in which children ultimately pay the price.

The Palghar tragedy demands that the response must be more than the usual choreography of suspensions and inquiries. Not just Maharashtra, but India needs to confront the persistence of corporal punishment with the seriousness it deserves. That means mandatory reporting of all such incidents, real consequences for institutions that allow them and better psychological and pedagogical training for teachers. It also means an honest engagement with parents, many of whom still equate severity with quality. Countries that have successfully eliminated corporal punishment have done so not just by banning it, but by reshaping culture.

Children do not die because they are late to school. They die when the adults entrusted with their care treat them as instruments to be disciplined, not humans to be nurtured. The Palghar tragedy should shame a country that prides itself on its demographic dividend yet often treats its young with callous disregard. The lesson this time must not be forgotten. The price has already been far too high.