Amid all the classroom noise, it was the quiet brightness in her eyes on that last bench that caught me first, as if she had been waiting all along for her “new didi”, someone who would finally see her.
Some children walk into our lives and quietly leave a mark that never fades. For me, that child was a “little girl in 4th grade” that I met in my very first week of the Teach for India (TFI) fellowship in Sangam Vihar.
While the other students quickly followed instructions, she often mixed up letters while reading, skipped lines without realising, or wrote words in the wrong order. She would forget what I had just said, hesitate when asked to read aloud, and sometimes avoid writing altogether. At first, I thought she only needed more practice. But soon, I realised it was something deeper.
Recognising the deeper struggle
Even before I knew her full story, I could sense it, learning wasn’t her biggest barrier. Feeling safe was. Without that, the books, lessons, and practice sheets would only ever skim the surface. She had dyslexia - something I had read about in my BEd books and seen in movies like Taare Zameen Par, but I only truly understood it when I met her.
What stayed with me most was not her struggle, but the shame I saw in her eyes each time she couldn’t do something “right.”
She would pull her sleeves over her hands, her shoulders curling in like she wanted to disappear.
The adults in her life didn’t see the root of her struggle. To them, teachers, even her parents, she was a "headache".
Mistakes were met with sharp words, public shaming, and sometimes physical punishment. Slowly, she began to believe those words. Some days she stayed silent, avoiding all attention. Other days, the frustration spilled over in loud bursts she couldn’t hold back.
Why safety comes before learning
Research shows that children in unsafe environments struggle with memory, attention, and emotional regulation - the very skills needed for learning. I didn’t need data to prove that. I could see it in front of me every day.
For her, the first lesson had nothing to do with books. "What she needed wasn’t fixing - it was someone to simply stand beside her." So I began showing up for her each day, sometimes just with a small question: ‘How are you feeling today?’ Every tiny task she managed became a celebration, every effort a step forward. To me, she was never ‘a child who couldn’t,’ but a seed waiting for the right care to grow.
Over time, I saw her change, her shoulders relaxed, her eyes met mine, and one day, she even raised her hand to answer. A small moment for many, but for her, it was huge. For me too. The warmth around her slowly melted the shame she had carried for so long.
The ripple effect of being seen
One thing that stays with me is how love and acceptance from even one person can spark a change. Initially, her classmates would make fun of her or get into fights with her.
But slowly, they also began to notice her efforts and the warmth she brought into the classroom each day. They started including her more, showing patience when she struggled, and even celebrating her small successes.
Sadly, the adults in her life were a different story. Despite my efforts to help her parents and other teachers understand her needs, their attitudes didn’t change. And this is the part we rarely admit, our education system often defaults to shaming or labelling children like her because it’s easier than understanding them.
We are quicker to assign blame than to ask, "What is getting in the way of this child’s learning?"
The need for a mindset shift
We pour money into new books, furniture, or training sessions, but the shift that matters most is in mindset, and that costs nothing but will.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt as an educator is that creating emotionally safe classrooms doesn’t always mean big programs or expensive resources. Sometimes it’s as simple as:
- Checking in with students who seem withdrawn or tense.
- Appreciating effort as much as achievement.
- Using a calm tone, even when correcting mistakes.
- Avoiding public shaming - keeping feedback private when possible.
- Learning about needs like dyslexia, ADHD, or anxiety, so we respond with understanding instead of frustration.
These small acts tell a child: “You are safe here. You belong here.”
I often think back to her and wonder how she taught me that before we can teach a child to read or calculate, we must teach them that they are worthy of love and respect. That their value is not just tied to grades or speed of learning, but the courage they show each day in trying again.
We can’t remove every challenge from a child’s life. But we can be the adult who makes them feel seen, valued, and capable - the adult who plants a seed of self-belief that might grow long after they leave our classroom. I wonder how many children are sitting in classrooms right now, quietly carrying the weight of feeling unwanted.
And I wonder - who will be the one to make them feel safe enough to bloom? Because when a child feels safe, learning is no longer a fight for survival. It becomes a chance to grow, to bloom, and to finally feel like they belong. And as long as I have a classroom to call home, I will keep planting those seeds, hoping that one day we will all choose to water them - until every child blooms.
[The article is written by Afsana Khan, Program Associate, Simple Education Foundation, Teach For India Alum. Views expressed are her own.]
