Schools need empathy, not excuses

THE recent suicides of students in Jaipur, Delhi and Madhya Pradesh are not isolated aberrations but part of a deeply worrying trend that indicates a breaking point in India’s school ecosystem. Each case has its own context, yet a consistent and troubling pattern emerges: ignored complaints, unchecked bullying, missing psychological support, undertrained teachers and school administrations that respond only after tragedy. These incidents are not simply personal failures. They reflect an institutional crisis in how schools understand and safeguard emotional wellbeing.

The Jaipur case is the most distressing illustration. A Class 4 student faced sustained bullying for over eighteen months. Her parents reportedly raised complaints at least three times since July 2024, yet nothing changed. On the day of her death, CCTV footage captured her pleading with classmates to erase something written on a digital slate that humiliated her. She then approached her teacher five times in the last 45 minutes of her life, trying to seek help. No protective action followed. The Central Board of Secondary Education’s enquiry report later revealed stark failures: no effective anti bullying committee, no functioning grievance redressal mechanism, no psychological support, inadequate surveillance and unsafe infrastructure. The school had more floors than permitted under safety guidelines and stair railings that were easily scalable. The child did not simply fall through the cracks of the system — she was left without one.

The tragedy in Delhi echoed similar failures. A Class 10 student died by suicide on November 18 after reportedly leaving a note naming teachers and alleging mental harassment. Families and friends protested outside St Columba’s School, demanding arrests rather than suspensions. Four staff members, including the headmistress, were placed under temporary suspension, but only after an FIR was filed. Parents made an important point. The response should not depend on death. There must be preventive systems, not only procedural reactions. They also demanded district level mental health guidelines, arguing that teachers need training not just in curriculum but in conduct, empathy and crisis response.

In Rewa, Madhya Pradesh, the story was painfully similar. A Class 11 student died on November 16, leaving behind a handwritten note that alleged physical intimidation by a teacher, including forcing her to open his closed fist and pressing a pen between her fingers as punishment. Her family insisted she was perfectly normal at home, suggesting that school itself became an environment of distress. The police are investigating her written statements and phone records to understand what may have led to the final step. Again, a pattern emerges: distress signals existed, but no one intervened effectively.

What links these cases is not just grief but silence — the silence before tragedy, when observation and intervention could still have changed the outcome. Schools often miss the moment when conversation can still prevent crisis.

The reasons for these failures go beyond negligence. They are structural. Teachers receive limited training in mental health awareness, adolescent behaviour or psychological first aid. Some mistake anxiety for disobedience and distress for disruption. In Jaipur, the teacher reportedly reacted with anger to the child’s repeated requests for help. Whether intentional or not, that moment reveals the absence of basic emotional literacy in classrooms. Teachers are frequently blamed, but many have never been equipped for these situations. They are trained to finish syllabi, not to detect despair.

Mental health systems within schools remain largely symbolic. Counsellors may exist on paper, but referrals are rare, and integration with academic life is weak. In some of the reports, counsellors were aware of student distress but did not inform parents — a silence that reflects both stigma and fear of administrative backlash. Instead of being support mechanisms, these roles often remain formal requirements to satisfy regulatory checklists.

Grievance mechanisms are another weak link. Complaints are rarely documented digitally, which means patterns of concern cannot be tracked or monitored. Parents are often asked to “adjust” rather than be heard. In the Jaipur case, the father reportedly witnessed bullying during a parent–teacher meeting but was advised that his daughter needed to adapt socially. That was a missed opportunity — perhaps the final one.

Academic pressure also plays its part. Emotional wellbeing is often treated as secondary, even optional. School timetables allow space for extra tuition but not structured emotional conversations. Marks are documented but mood changes are not. A child may perform adequately in exams and still be struggling silently with isolation, humiliation or fear. Our education system assumes that psychological resilience develops on its own — but it rarely does.

There are, however, concrete steps India can take.

Teacher training must be updated to reflect contemporary student realities. Modules on adolescent psychology, conflict resolution and mental health awareness should be made mandatory and tied to certification. Renewal should be periodic and partially based on feedback from students and parents.

Mental health support must become part of the everyday rhythm of school life. A weekly wellbeing period, confidential reporting mechanisms and digital risk registers could help pre-empt crises. Counsellors must not simply exist — they must engage, intervene and maintain early-warning systems.

Grievance procedures must become structured and transparent. Written complaints should be digitally logged, followed by mandatory responses within defined timeframes. District-level monitoring committees could regularly review case patterns. Anti bullying committees must include parents and trained professionals.

Infrastructure is also critical. Unsafe stairways, absent floor attendants and unmonitored corridors are not technical deficiencies — they are risks to life. Failure to comply with school safety norms must invite consequences, ranging from warnings to suspension of affiliation.

Parent partnerships need rebuilding. Parents are not adversaries. They often provide insights before schools do. Meetings focused solely on academic performance overlook a crucial dimension of child development. Schools must incorporate discussion of behaviour changes, anxiety signals and social challenges as part of formal communication.

Children themselves should have agency in shaping safe environments. Peer support groups, supervised by professionals, can detect distress early. Research across the world indicates that children often speak more honestly to one another than to adults. Their voices must be acknowledged, not sidelined.

Accountability must be clearly assigned. After every tragedy, reports surface showing warning signs were noticed — but no one was responsible for acting on them. Unless roles are defined, emotional safety will remain a grey zone in a system that deals only with grades and discipline.

The core question is blunt but necessary: Can a school claim to educate children if it cannot first ensure their safety? A nine year old girl asked for help five times before she died. The silence that followed is not just a moral failure. It is a policy failure. And it is a warning.