After working with schools across cities big and small, modern and traditional, one thing remains constant: students still chase marks, not meaning.

Even in today’s digital era, where classrooms boast smart boards and tablets, the mindset hasn’t evolved much. Experiential learning often takes a backseat to rote methods. But real understanding doesn’t come from repetition; it comes from doing.

As an Education Coach, I’ve had the privilege of visiting classrooms in bustling metros and quiet towns alike. In some schools, children learn multiplication through real-life market games. In others, they still chant “two twos are four” in unison, with little idea of what that actually means. I’ve realised that while resources differ, the deeper issue is mindset. Teachers often teach the way they were taught — through textbooks and tests.

Parents, too, equate marks with intelligence and success. The result? A cycle that prizes memorisation over meaning.

I remember my first visit as an Education Coach in a small town near Udaipur. The school was tucked between narrow lanes, the kind of place where parents waited outside the gate every afternoon, chatting eagerly about exam results.

During a math class, a teacher proudly told me her students could recite all the multiplication tables up to 20. When I asked one student what “six times three” really meant, he paused, confused. Then, hesitantly, he said, “Madam, it means… I remember it.” That moment stayed with me. He wasn’t wrong — he did remember it. But he didn’t understand it. And that distinction captures everything wrong with our system.

Travelling to schools across Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan, I’ve noticed something striking: even in Tier 2 and Tier 3 cities, where parents work hard to send their children to “English-medium” schools, the dream often stops at getting high marks. Parents invest their savings in education, hoping it will secure a better life for their children.

But somewhere along the way, we’ve mistaken good scores for good learning. I’ve seen classrooms where children copy paragraphs from the board in perfect handwriting, yet struggle to explain the concept in their own words. The learning looks neat, but it’s hollow.

One incident in Dungarpur deeply reinforced this. I was observing a Grade 3 science class. The teacher was explaining “living and non-living things.” She asked students to list examples, and one child confidently said, “Fan is living.” The class laughed, but instead of correcting her with a definition, I asked, “Why do you think so?” She replied, “Because it moves.”

That moment turned the class into a discussion; children debated, reasoned, and questioned. The teacher later told me, “I never thought to ask why.” That day, learning felt alive. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real.

My travels have taught me that change doesn’t come from technology, training modules, or new textbooks; it comes from curiosity. It comes from teachers willing to unlearn and parents willing to see education differently. I’ve met teachers in remote schools who, despite limited resources, create beautiful learning moments.

One used bottle caps to teach place value; another took her students outside to estimate distances using footsteps. These small acts show that learning can be deeply meaningful, even in the simplest settings.

And yet, the pressure of exams looms large. Teachers fear parents’ reactions to low marks. Parents fear poor report cards will mean failure. The entire system is wired to reward answers, not understanding. I often remind teachers during my coaching sessions. “We’re not just teaching subjects; we’re teaching how to think.” When students touch, explore, and question, they learn in ways that stick far beyond exams.

One of my most memorable experiences was in a school near Indore. I conducted a demo class where students built their own rain gauges from plastic bottles. It was messy, loud, and chaotic, but every child’s eyes lit up as they saw the first drops collect inside their creations. Later, one student came up and said, “Didi, now I finally know how rain is measured!” That moment summed up why I do what I do. Because learning should spark wonder, not anxiety.

Over time, I’ve realised that my role isn’t just to train teachers, it’s to shift mindsets. To help schools see that learning isn’t about covering the syllabus, it’s about uncovering understanding. It’s about giving children the space to make mistakes, to ask questions, and to learn by doing. My dream is to take the power of hands-on learning beyond metro cities, into smaller towns where dreams are just as big, but opportunities are fewer.

Change won’t happen overnight. But every conversation, every classroom visit, every “aha” moment takes us closer. The real revolution in education will come not when students can recite definitions, but when they can connect those definitions to their lives. When they can feel learning, not just repeat it.

As I sit by the lakeside after another long day of school visits, sometimes in places where the roads are rough but the smiles are genuine. I often think about how education shapes not just minds, but futures. And I keep coming back to one belief: we don’t need more perfect students; we need more curious ones. Because the world doesn’t change through marks, it changes through meaning.

[Article written by Megha Paliwal, a Teach for India alumnus. Opinions expressed are their own.]