Child Education

Status of child education after the pandemic:  A Case Study 

Slowly and gradually the pandemic paced in the month of February, 2020. Before it all came to our lives then also the condition of education system was not very satisfying but with the arrival of this pandemic the education system worsened. 

First the lockdown came and all the schools and colleges country-wide shut due to the danger of disease. The children who were not mature enough to understand the virtue of education, lost their focus on their mind was washed neither their parents were literate to teach them nor they have any source. It is not like that their parents don't want their children to be educated but they don't want or they don't feel the need of educating their wards by the money which they spent on their daily bread. This is the first phase or better called as the lockdown phase. 

Now we'll see to the online education phase where the children were given classes through the help of smartphones and internet. 

Some people lost their means of education because of poverty and lack of knowledge but some luckies were there who who were having smartphones and somehow managed to get education. 

There were some who were having smartphones but that wasn't enough. They had to also manage for high speed internet connection and a periodic data package. 

Except these strugglers there were some who got everything but didn't felt the need to take classes and we're least bothered. 

Some schools charged fees for online classes which really was not only a burden on middle class parents but also was not right to charge fee for online class. 

All of these things made the children more careless, lethargic and unreasonable. This made the education system worst then before.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THE LAST LESSON

Mrs. Martha settled into her wagon once again, the same journey she had made every day for thirty years—same route, same rhythm, same steadfast purpose. The fire in her heart burned as fiercely as it had on her very first morning in the classroom, though time had etched its weight upon her. Her knees, once tireless, now ached with a dull persistence; some mornings demanded a visit to the doctor instead of the blackboard. And where she once stood for hours without thought, she now scanned the room for a chair after thirty minutes, her breath shallow but her resolve unbroken. The planet had not changed. The children had not changed. Only her body whispered reminders of the years passing—yet still, she went.   Mrs. Martha never bowed to mediocrity. The world had offered her easier paths—gleaming offices, salaries that would have draped her in comfort, the quiet dignity of a life unburdened by chalk-dust and rusted blackboards. She could have taken them all. She chose this instead...
Read more

BRUISES BENEATH THE ROOF

We inhabit a world that measures itself by the clamor of its streets, yet the soft, aching sighs within its homes dissolve into shadows. It is not always the blow of a crime that wounds most deeply, but the quiet varnish of normalization that lets it linger like a stain on the soul. This is the age of women-she is at once the steady flame of the hearth and the fearless wind that builds empires. She can be the hand that earns the bread and the heart that kneads it, the unbound spirit who charts her own sky, and the sheltering mother who folds her children beneath her wings. She is everywhere; she can become anything. She owns a home, steers a business, and holds a family together, yet is still kept in the quiet shadows of the very place that gave her life. Those who once championed her independence now seek permission from others before allowing her to follow it. She is expected to be beautiful, a drop of diligence dissolved in the liquid of grace-an alchemy of charm and labor. She pa...
Read more

Pain is Personal

The abyss of this eternally enough night, Where the world swallowed an impenetrable void. Neither the sign of sun nor the spark of moon’s light Just the air humming in whispered dread and sinister glow of corpse-light . What I scream in silence, May not be heard with deaf ears but Heard and echoes in empty Cathedrals Like a hymn of shattered glass, Sung in language of wounds  whispered in a tongue of fire and thorns.  Is this chisel-stroke, unwanted sculptor Carved with stains deeper than blood, Was all liturgy of my own venom Or it wears your voice and shadow.? By whose design it pierces my ribcage, Making my mind a borrowed ghost Learning to haunt in safest of places, What once was proudly mine, Now stands in shameful harvest.?
Read more