Education Views | Insightful Perspectives and Analysis - Edinbox

The tensions between the Delhi Public School (DPS), Dwarka, and the Directorate of Education (DoE) intensified on Monday when the school lodged a petition in the Central District High Court to challenge the DoE's order to reinstate more than 30 students who were previously expelled for not paying disputed fee hike. 

The case was adjourned and will be heard on Wednesday, with Justice Vikas Mahajan being present at the hearing. Following a controversial episode earlier this month, the petition alleges that the school removed 32 students from its rolls on May 9 and allegedly prevented them entering the building on may 13 by placing private security guards at the gates. Parents were outraged by the action and protested, refusing to pay any of their fees as the fees had not been approved by either the Department of Defence or the Government. 

The DoE issued a directive on May 15 to reinstate the students, in response to complaints from parents. Existing court directions, and that the department called the expulsions. (C) 

In its appeal, DPS Dwarka argued that the order from the DoE goes against the Delhi School Education Act and Rules, 1973, which allow school officials to dismiss students from their rolls for fee-paying irregularities. The school denounced the directive as "arbitrary" and claimed that it lacked any legal basis. The school has not been given a chance to voice its views, as stated in the petition.' 

Meanwhile, the high court is dealing with several cases that are related. A petition filed by more than 100 parents requesting administrative takeover of the school has been postponed by Justice Mahajan, who is leading the bench. An order will be given by Justice Sachin Datta to reinstate expelled students, as he has also made a plea.

In a country where access to higher education often stops at the doorstep of economic hardship, the Madras University Free Education Scheme (MUFES) quietly stands as a game-changer. Operational since 2010, this initiative isn’t just another scholarship; it’s a lifeline for students from economically backward families who aspire to break the cycle of poverty through education.

What sets MUFES apart is its targeted approach. Reserved for Tamil Nadu students with an annual family income of ₹3 lakh or less, it carves out a path for Plus 2 graduates to secure admission in professional courses across colleges affiliated with the University of Madras. And unlike most schemes that are lost in the fine print, MUFES is refreshingly clear in its eligibility criteria: you need to be a native student, pass Plus 2 in a single attempt, and fit into one of the three thoughtfully crafted categories—socially vulnerable groups like orphans and widows' children, physically challenged and first-generation learners, or pure merit-based achievers.

Equally noteworthy is the seat structure. By allocating at least three additional seats per college across Chennai, Thiruvalluvar, and Kancheepuram districts—specifically above the sanctioned intake—MUFES avoids displacing other students while still making room for inclusion. It’s a model many other universities would do well to adopt.

Yes, the application process involves scanning documents, validating income certificates, and navigating the university website. But what’s a few steps when the reward is a free college degree and the chance to change your family’s future?

In an education landscape often criticized for being exclusionary, MUFES proves what a public university can achieve when access is prioritized over privilege. If you know a student who just passed Plus 2 and dreams of college but fears the financial burden—tell them about MUFES. This isn't just a scheme; it’s hope, opportunity, and empowerment rolled into one.

In a country as fundamentally plural as India, where every classroom is a mini-representations of its multicultural nature, a recent incident in Panipat has once again brought to the forefront the thin line between pluralism and pedagogy.

A private institution, Saraswati Vidya Mandir in Panipat, Haryana, sacked a teacher recently after she had recited the Kalma, an Islamic creed, in a lesson on Class 8. The teacher, Mahjib Ansari, also known as "Mahi" by her students, was a teacher of Sanskrit. She has been accused of teaching religious content that, as per the school and concerned parents, lies beyond the purview of prescribed syllabi.

The uproar started when children were heard reciting the Kalma in their homes. The parents, in shock, lodged complaints to the school administration. This led to the teacher's immediate dismissal and by community groups, including the Hindu Mahasabha members.

As editors and journalists, we must tread warily here. Was the action an indoctrination ploy, or an impromptu outburst of cultural sharing as a response to student curiosity? The school principal subsequently clarified that the teacher had recited Kalma verses when asked by students about Islamic prayers. The teacher apologized, confessing that the action might have crossed professional etiquette, although perhaps not out of a malignant intent.

The secular philosophy, as enshrined in the Indian Constitution, does not entail the elimination of religion from public life—it entails instead equal regard and responsible neutrality. In keeping with that spirit, for instance, while it is proper that parents take special care about what is being taught, we also have to ask ourselves: are our classrooms ready to teach about multiple faiths with no fear?

This episode is not one religion against another—rather, it is about how education has to navigate the landscape of India's religious diversity sensitively, professionally, and responsibly. A well-intentioned debate on religious practice, unattached to curriculum and context, can be a tinderbox, particularly in today's hyper-sensitive environment.

The firing of the teacher may have closed the book, but it needs to open a larger one—how do we teach teachers how to handle pluralism in teaching? Can we provide schools with enough strength to encourage comparative study of religions, within the boundaries of constitutional values and pedagogic integrity?

It is our responsibility to familiarize our students with their own faiths and those of others—not to convert, but to coexist. By this, we are reinforcing the secular fabric that unites India. May this not become an episode of fragmentation, but a lesson in unity through understanding.

As summers get increasingly deadly in India by the day, millions of daily wage workers are still bearing the brunt—with no compensation for lost wages. Heat insurance can help, writes EdInbox Senior Journalist Nibedita.

Nanda Kumar, 27, has to decide between health and livelihood every afternoon. After a recent bout of heat stroke that landed him in a Chennai hospital, the Ola and Uber driver now keeps away from roads between noon and 4 pm, losing up to ₹800 on a day's income. "The heat is just too much," he complains, "and there is no way to get our grievances heard by the companies."

Nanda Kumar is unfamiliar with the concept of heat insurance—but it strikes a chord. "We need it. Cases of heatstroke are widespread among us," he says. Without a platform to advocate for safer working conditions or better compensation, gig workers like him are left vulnerable and unprotected.

Across the country, Bengaluru's resident street vendor Krishna Kumar also faces the same challenge. By noon, he's compelled to shut shop as the sun is too harsh, losing half a day's income. In the lack of institutional loans, he's been compelled to take cash loans from private moneylenders, forking out ₹5,000 a month as interest on a ₹50,000 advance. "Which bank gives us loans?" he asks.

Heat Insurance for the Informal Sector

Some solutions already exist. Hasumathi Parmar, 50, a catering support worker in Ahmedabad, received relief through a heat insurance scheme launched by the Mahila Housing Trust (MHT). For just ₹354 a year, she is eligible for compensation when temperatures rise above certain thresholds—₹750 for two consecutive days above 43.7°C and ₹1,250 for above 44.1°C, with a maximum of ₹2,000 a season.

MHT, along with Global Parametrics, Go Digit Insurance, and broker Howden India, has rolled this out in a few cities. In Ahmedabad during last year, 2,000 women were each compensated ₹750 when temperatures crossed the lower threshold.

SEWA (Self-Employed Women's Association) has provided the same type of insurance to 21,000 women informal workers in seven cities. For a premium of ₹300, they can get as much as ₹2,100 per season if the temperature is more than 43.6°C on three or more days. Relief that took the shape of umbrellas, water jars, and solar lamps has now turned into financial compensation.

Why Governments Must Step In

Despite all these promising models, parametric heat insurance remains largely an NGO-led initiative with little government support. No mention of wage compensation mechanisms was noted in the heat action plans of nine Indian cities in a recent study for Sustainable Futures Collaborative.

"Private entities have adopted heat insurance in Ahmedabad, but no local or state governments," says Tamanna Dalal, co-author of the study.

Experts believe that cities will be able to implement location-based policies most effectively because heat impacts vary geographically. But some like Ulka Kelkar of World Resources Institute India prefer a national implementation. "The bigger the pool, the more sustainable the payments," she suggests. In the absence of scale, insurers will hike premiums or leave the market altogether—as occurred during California wildfires.

A three-tier system comprising private insurers, reinsurance, and government backing is crucial. Kelkar proposes this three-tier financing mechanism in order to render it sustainable.

Bridging the Insurance Gap

India still lags behind in low insurance penetration. "Most vulnerable communities lack even basic life insurance," states ICRIER's Dr. Saon Ray. She refers to Japan's earthquake insurance model—a model of public-private partnership—as a possible template.

There are also attitudinal barriers. Insurance is perceived as an investment of money, and not as a climate safety net.

In order to promote the efficiency of heat action plans, the specialists propose the following:

Involvement of insurance companies to introduce parametric heat insurance for informal workers.

Provision of budget funds for compensating lost income on the days of intense heat.

Financial triggers through heat signals and periods of rest.

As the planet heats and summers get longer, the talk of climate resilience must include financial resilience. Heat insurance may be that missing piece of the puzzle that turns India's short-term mitigation into long-term adaptation.

While schools across the country are set to re-open, there is a very significant question hanging in the balance: how well are India's children actually learning? Beyond grades and figures, the answer is a whole lot more nuanced—and the measures that track it today may not be collecting the whole picture.

India relies on three big surveys to quantify learning gains: NGO Pratham's Annual Status of Education Report (ASER), National Achievement Survey (NAS)—now overhauled as PARAKH Rashtriya Sarvekshan, and Foundational Learning Study (FLS). The trio collectively attempt to take a snapshot of what is being done in schools about the performance of children. But according to experts, they fail to capture the nitty-gritty, structural issues India's education system is confronting.

A Short Overview: ASER, NAS, and FLS

Ever since inception in 2005, ASER has led the way in assessing elementary reading and math ability. It is the only nationwide large-scale home-based learning survey that covers over 600 districts. It tests children aged between 5 and 16 years—school-going and out-of-school—and therefore does not include classroom coaching in its estimates.

Though NAS was conducted at school level and tested students in Grades 3, 5, 8, and 10 in language, Mathematics, Science, and Social Science, it tested only government and aided schools. This is in contrast to FLS, which was an NCERT one-time exercise conducted during the year 2022, trying to provide national norms for basic literacy and numeracy.

But somebody needs to make inquiries: Are these tools giving an accurate representation? Or are they just spewing out figures in the vacuum?

The Larger Issue: What the Figures Do Not Reveal

"It is very simple to capture enrollment or dropout figures. But these surveys try to suggest how the system is actually functioning—or not functioning at all," states Prof. Srinivasan Ramanujam, retired faculty member, IMSc, Chennai.

India's education sector is struggling with a serious deficit of teachers: more than 9.8 lakh positions, more than 2.5 lakh at secondary level alone. Add to that that only 25.5% of schools possess the absolute minimum of infrastructure required of them by the RTE Act, including toilets, drinking water, and functioning classrooms.

"How can you forecast learning with such precision under such conditions? It is like conducting haemoglobin tests on an individual without ever feeding them a healthy meal," comments educationist Niranjanaradhya V.P.

Methodology Matters

Both ASER and NAS are faulted on methodological grounds. ASER is based on the use of volunteers to test at home but ends up creating inconsistency and some children becoming uncomfortable in a new environment. NAS, as conducted in schools, could be coaching or memorizing rather than actual understanding.

"These are unscientific. Under a system of continuous and comprehensive evaluation, the teacher, who knows the child, must also examine them," asserts Niranjanaradhya.

Moreover, education is a state subject, syllabi, pedagogy, and exams come under state control. So how representative of what children in deeply diverse contexts are actually learning is one national test?

Tamil Nadu and states such as it have begun to have their own evaluation, done to local command. But as educationist Prince Gajendrababu points out, national surveys do not really tell us why the children are doing well or poorly, and if there are concerns about access and equity. "What can we have in a multi-grade classroom with no infrastructure support? Equitable outcomes?"

The Missing Link: Community Participation

While the surveys provide good information, their impact at the grassroots level is negligible, says experts. "Unless School Management Committees (SMCs) are informed and informed of the findings, nothing will follow," opines former Vice-Chancellor, Manonmaniam Sundaranar University, Dr. Vasanthi Devi.

Kerala provides a glimpse of success. Activated SMCs there have used survey data to know about gaps, increase accountability, and improve children. Elsewhere, though, awareness is shocking. "Until 2022, most individuals in Tamil Nadu did not even know that such committees existed," adds Dr. Devi.

She has a very strong last point: "The poorest of the poor attend government schools. If we wish for these surveys to be the reason for real change, the community should be at the forefront."

In today’s India—where WhatsApp forwards can ignite riots and political narratives often prey on linguistic sensitivities—the following story of a Bihar-born girl acing Tamil in a state board exam is more than just heartwarming. It is timely. It is relevant. And, as Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan aptly put it, it is an "eye-opener." On the other hand, as debates over the National Education Policy (NEP) continue to polarize, incidents from Bengaluru and Mumbai forced to speak regional language. 

Dharmendra Pradhan quotes Bihar-born girl topping Tamil exam

In reference to the case of a student from Bihar-origin who topped the Class 10 Tamil exam of the southern state this year, Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan has said that the incident is an eye-opener for "those who are attempting to create divisions on the basis of language".

Pradhan was addressing a function on Monday to initiate a Bharatiya Bhasha Summer Camp, which is being conducted in government schools this summer to introduce children to the study of Indian languages. He also initiated study material such as primers and special modules in Indian languages. He dedicated the function to D Jiya Kumari, the Bihar student who achieved 93 out of 100 in the Tamil exam of the Tamil Nadu state board.

"We see this in the newspaper now. She was born in Bihar, and her father came to Chennai to make a living 17 years ago. His three daughters have now learned Tamil in school. Jiya Kumari got 93 out of 100 in Tamil and 467 out of 500 in total," Pradhan said.

Pradhan's remark follows a confrontation between the Centre and Tamil Nadu over the refusal of the State to adopt parts of the National Education Policy 2020, such as the three-language policy. The State that adheres to the two-language policy and educates the student in English and Tamil has found the three-language policy to be an effort at imposing Hindi.

Speaking the same language?

Two recent incidents—in Bengaluru and Mumbai—have thrown a harsh spotlight on India's long-simmering language tensions. A State Bank of India (SBI) branch manager in Bengaluru refused to speak Kannada with a customer, insisting on Hindi. In Mumbai’s Ghatkopar area, a customer threatened a shopkeeper with closure if he didn’t learn Marathi within two weeks. Both cases—starkly different in geography and direction—point to a deeper problem: when language becomes a battleground for identity, respect gets lost in translation.

Kannada- https://www.instagram.com/reel/DJ4EdUzzCGg/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link 

Marathi- https://www.instagram.com/reel/DJ6dcyxvTHD/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link 

Let’s be clear—language is powerful. It connects people to their culture, their roots, and their communities. But when it becomes a weapon for either asserting dominance or punishing others, we miss the point entirely. A bank manager refusing to speak the local language in a state-run institution isn't just unhelpful—it’s tone-deaf. Public-facing roles in multilingual India should be rooted in empathy and accessibility. It’s not about rejecting Hindi or English; it’s about embracing the language of the people you serve.

On the flip side, threatening a shopkeeper to learn Marathi under duress is equally troubling. Language cannot be forced. Coercion breeds resistance, not integration. It’s one thing to expect local businesses to communicate effectively in regional languages; it’s another to issue ultimatums and threats.

Sashi Tharoor- https://www.instagram.com/reel/DDbfHrQv-DV/?igsh=MXZuaGduYWdvYmZ6aQ== 

Prakash Raj- Instagram 

India is not monolingual. It never has been. With 22 official languages and hundreds of dialects, we are a linguistic mosaic. The only way to hold it together is through mutual respect—not mandates.

Public institutions should lead by example—staff fluent in local languages should be the norm. But individuals must also recognize that language is not a purity test. It’s a tool to connect, not a license to bully.

Let’s not turn our multilingual heritage into a fault line. Language should open doors, not close them.Let us not let regional pride turn into exclusivist. If we are able to let the Bihar girl adopt Tamil open-heartedly, then we are all able to learn each other's language—literally and metaphorically.