Be it making precision farming accessible to smallholders who never went through formal education or retraining thousands of distributed teams on mission-critical operations at the peak of the pandemic — what made me fall in love with learning sciences is how implementing even the most basic principles not only elevated the user experience but drove exceptional business outcomes.

At Avenca, the startup I co-founded, we helped smallholders adopt cost-effective precision farming techniques to help improve their farm yield using smart sensors and predictive analytics. This was consequential as the ever-increasing water scarcity and inflated fertilizer costs made crop cultivation uneconomical for many across India.

The bigger challenge, though, was designing a digital product for farmers with diverse literacy experiences — some never went through formal education, while others were schoolteachers who did farming as a side hustle.

As for Volteo, new environmental regulations forced shipping companies to restructure their vessel operations, which meant retraining thousands of seafarers, all while the world was grappling with a pandemic.

The tension was palpable — to remain compliant, shore staff added several new procedures but lacked time to design quality learning resources. On the flip side, the crew believed they were already understaffed and overworked, dealing with more critical challenges, namely port congestions and crew change crisis.

This misalignment of expectations led to high attrition at shipping companies, especially when they needed staff the most.

Despite being two distinct contexts, the principles of computer-supported collaborative learning applied albeit differently, saved the day!

At Avenca, I noticed that existing training resources provided complex, technical explanations and focused more on individual mastery, overlooking the fact that most farmers made collective decisions and synchronized their farm activities.

So, I designed a learning app prototype that leveraged dialogic interaction and collaborative knowledge building — users with higher literacy but limited farming experience were paired with those who had decades of farming knowledge but lacked formal education, enabling them to scaffold each other to combine age-old regenerative farming practices with modern technologies.

And our bet paid off as we quickly gained market share, achieving a 98% customer retention rate for our core product.

Coming to Volteo, for our product Wayship to succeed, we had to foster cross-team empathy and make learning new tasks more intuitive.

To address this, I designed a feature, Ahoy Stream, a Twitter-style feed where every time a task was completed, it would auto-post on the team dashboard details of the task performed, names of the crew involved, and the total time spent.

This simple act of creating visibility of actions being performed thousands of miles away helped accomplish intersubjective meaning-making, giving the shore staff a richer context of what seafarers' day looked like, which helped resolve conflicts by a significant measure.

In addition, I collaborated with ship-shore teams to redesign their internal regulatory processes. By moving away from email threads and unmanaged spreadsheets, I focused on leveraging group cognition — instead of shore staff being passive creators of rules, we enabled them to actively participate in the tasks.

Acting as virtual teammates, they helped the seafarers learn to make compliant decisions and raised red flags much sooner, saving hundreds of hours spent on approvals and rectifying record entries.

The implementation was well-received, and today, Wayship is deployed on over 200 vessels transporting the world's cargo in a much greener way, loved by both the seafarers and beluga whales alike!

As advancements in artificial intelligence and robotics gain momentum, workplaces have to continually retrain their employees at unprecedented levels to meet their unique business challenges.

What's more fascinating is how digital tools are making pedagogical approaches that were previously considered uneconomical, be it project-based learning or cognitive apprenticeship, more accessible, and I can only imagine the impact of technologies like augmented reality and wearable brain-machine interfaces to accelerate this phenomenon.

Knowledge today is no longer rate-limited by the physical libraries one has access to — the internet happened, ChatGPT happened, and information has become an omnipresent commodity.

Now imagine a world where learners, be it a K12 student or an office-going adult learner, are no longer limited by the physical attributes of the tools they use or the environments they reside in. Digital tools can allow learners from across geographies to come together and create intricate virtual worlds to explore unique ideas that are no longer bound by what's locally possible.

As I progress in my career, I'm quite excited about the prospects of building products interweaving learning sciences principles with experience design, large language models and product management to foster lifelong, lifewide learning and build unconventional yet impactful solutions for the work paradigms of today and tomorrow.

Anyways, thanks for reading this short, personal note. If you too, have a tale to share, you know me — I'm only one call away!

For Malini George, the principal of a popular school located in a quiet neighborhood of central Bangalore, this morning seems nothing particularly interesting. She sifts through a bunch of wedding and birthday invites as well as a couple of brochures from edtech startups claiming how their new product features will 'revolutionize' schooling. And then, something catches her attention.

As she is about to open the curious-looking package, Sridhar, the school's newly-appointed IT administrator, knocks on her door and points at the clock on the wall, reminding her of 'the meeting.'

"Oh yes! I completely forgot it was moved to today. I'll join you all in 10 minutes. Second-floor conference room, right?" Malini responds with a smile, and as the creaky hinge closes the door, the smile disappears in a tick, and her eyes gaze at the ceiling filled with confusion, as yet again, like every other week over the past several months, 'the meeting' will leave her with more questions than answers, and the hours spent in the conference room continue to fail to answer that one portentous question — how to do it the right way?

The NEP-NCF conundrum

When the National Education Policy 2020 was first introduced three years ago, getting hold of the document felt almost festive — after all, I'd been waiting for this moment for about a decade now.

Because a decade ago, I wrote a policy memo to the Ministry of Education as a high schooler about the inadequacies in the K12 system, pointing out how the limited choice of subjects felt highly constraining — it directed students to a narrow set of career paths that were popular at the time and didn't encourage exploring beyond the bounds of assigned textbooks to find new, emerging possibilities.

Personally, I was lucky to have a terrific mentor, my maternal uncle, Dr. Anumakonda Jagadeesh. He was a distinguished scientist known for his contributions to the field of renewable energy — I worked with him after school hours, and that experience exposed me to the fascinating world of science journalism and product design that no one in school made me aware of.

But not every high schooler is lucky to have a Sigma Xi as their uncle, and I believed we needed more of a systemic fix to this problem that potentially had generational implications.

Cut to July 2020, and to my surprise, those decade-old suggestions finally make their way to the new National Education Policy. I was pleased to see the introduction of a new category of subjects, increased focus on making learning more experiential, and elimination of the hard separations between arts and sciences to foster more holistic learner outcomes.

As I read the new policy, a realization dawned upon me — I've been advocating for systemic changes solely from a learner’s point of view.

But now, a new question popped in my mind — how does this policy affect other stakeholders involved in the K12 system, be it the teachers, principals, admin staff, and school leadership?

And more importantly, how does one strategize and successfully execute these necessary yet radical changes without disrupting the well-oiled system that has been perfected over decades and not bring the entire school to a chaotic halt?

NEP 2020 provided limited tactical recommendations on how to implement change management in schools, and now, three years later the National Curriculum Framework 2023 is in effect, it continues to leave some important questions unanswered:

• How do schools handle operational uncertainties while introducing new subjects they have no experience with?

• How can leadership effectively communicate and convince a diverse set of staff to embrace a new organizational culture without causing loss of morale or even mass exodus?

• What will be the financial implications, and how should schools address the increasing costs associated with these changes while dealing with external pressures to not raise the tuition?

These are not easy problems to solve, but the good news is that they're not unique to K12 education.

Over the past few years, I've worked with global teams to help them successfully implement their change management initiatives, where, similar to the K12 space in India, new regulations were introduced overnight with limited tactical guidelines, and in most cases, the whole organizational structure needed a rejig.

So, my goal with this multi-part series is to help you decode the challenges and share effective tactical strategies that will enable you to introduce change initiatives with minimal disruptions.

These essays encapsulate my personal learnings as well as insights from top academicians and change management professionals whom I was fortunate to meet during my time at Boston University and Techstars.

Why this? Why now?

The most significant change introduced by the NCF 2023 is moving away from the philosophy of instructionism which was designed to prepare students for the industrialized economy of the early twentieth century.

A century ago, in a world without communication technology – without phones and the Internet – it was not easy to find someone else who knew the information you needed; you had to know it yourself. Memorizing information was a large part of being educated. (The Cambridge Handbook of the Learning Sciences - Third Edition)

The conventional instruction methods that are in use today focus on teaching students to memorize information with a singular metric in mind — to successfully crack exams.

I know this statement might raise eyebrows, and some of you may argue not all teachers focus on that — some genuinely care about improving students' intellectual capabilities. But ask your students what their typical day looks like, and you will hear a bunch of conflicting keywords - after-school tuitions, weekly JEE/NEET mock exams, hyper-competitive peers, academic performance stress, and the list goes on.

Stories like high-school students consuming anti-sleep pills, ending up in hospitals with brain clots, and countless student suicides that spike right before board exams show that the intent of education seems to be distorted and gravely misunderstood, both among students and their parents.

By no means would I blame our schools for this. This systemic flaw was perpetuated by the obsolete education policy, which was, unfortunately, exploited by the market forces, robbing students and good schools of the energy and resources to focus on what really matters.

So, what's the new north star then? In a nutshell, K12 schools are now a sandbox for intellectual exploration, developing the scientific temper of future value creators from India, for the world.

Every single curricular and pedagogical change ties back to this new objective to unshackle K12 education from the baggage of the industrial era and bring it to the technology age.

The shift from the old 10+2 to the new 5+3+3+4 structure, consisting of the Foundational Stage (3 years of pre-school + 2 years in primary school in Grades 1-2), Preparatory Stage (Grades 3-5), Middle Stage (Grades 6-8), and Secondary Stage (Grades 9 and 10 in the first and 11 and 12 in the second phase) have specific considerations for curricular structure, content, pedagogy, and assessments for achieving these new goals of school education.

Moreover, the existing operating model of teaching new content relies on regular sit-down exams as a primary assessment mechanism. This needs an overhaul as well — NCF 2023 expects experiential learning to be the new approach for students to learn through hands-on experiences and reflection, connecting classroom theories to real-world situations.

Experiential learning within each subject, and explorations of relations among different subjects, will be encouraged and emphasized despite the introduction of more specialized subjects and subject teachers.

In school, assessment has mostly become mechanical and routinized. At best, assessment is focused on measuring rote learning of content rather than measuring achievement of Competencies and Learning Outcomes. At worst, assessment is an intimidating process that creates fear and leads to labeling and segregation of students based on the ‘marks’ they have scored in tests and examination (NCF 2023)

The aim is to deprioritize the ongoing standardized testing and introduce formative and summative assessments that contribute to positive learning experiences.

Formative assessments, such as projects, debates, presentations, experiments, investigations, role plays, journals, and portfolios, are low-stakes to track student progress and provide ongoing feedback.

On the other hand, Summative assessments are evaluations that measure what a student has learned at the end of a lesson or a specific period of teaching. These assessments are usually high stakes because they compare a student's performance to a benchmark and have consequences. Some examples of summative assessments are term-end tests, simulations, and writing an academic paper. (NCF 2023)

In Project-Based Learning (PBL), students work to solve real, meaningful problems that are important to them, and they work on those problems in the same way that professionals do. A PBL classroom allows students to explore phenomena, investigate questions, discuss their ideas, engage in disciplinary practices, challenge the ideas of others, and try out new ideas.

Research provides compelling evidence of the value of PBL in all subjects in promoting student engagement, improving academic learning, and enhancing social emotional learning. In particular, PBL has been shown to promote science learning and social and emotional learning for all students, including students who historically have not had access to STEM careers. PBL can equip all students with the intellectual capabilities necessary to understand their world and solve problems. (The Cambridge Handbook of The Learning Sciences - Third Edition)

The second important change is that schools are now expected to offer greater flexibility and broader choice of subjects to their middle and secondary-stage students. The traditional practice of segregating students into different streams is no longer relevant, and there will be no hard separation between curricular or extracurricular, nor between arts, humanities, and sciences, or between vocational or academic streams (NEP 2020).

The challenge is that most schools lack the experience to navigate this radical change. Do we now expect schools to no longer have sections, and students can hop in and hop out of classes as they deem fit? How does one coordinate and manage capacity based on evolving demands for both existing and new subjects?

The third change is the need for continuous professional development for teachers. Owing to technological advancements, teachers are now expected to stay up to date with pedagogy delivery, evaluation strategies, and digital teaching tools.

Schools are now expected to offer learning programs to their teachers, and this may become another challenge as several schools lack the required expertise to initiate and manage such programs.

Also, collaboration among teachers from different schools can lead to the sharing of best practices and novel ideas that can raise the quality of student outcomes. However, effective cross-school collaboration might be difficult as it requires strong leadership and cooperation between schools that might have conflicting interests.

As you can see, if the changes are not effectively communicated and implemented, they can inadvertently create a toxic culture where every stakeholder prioritizes and protects their own interests. This can cause a breakdown of trust within the organization, ultimately derailing the whole change management process.

And the magic potion is …

The short answer — change one variable at a time.

And, over the next set of essays, my goal is to introduce change management for K12 schools in phases so that you can start executing it the right way without disrupting your everyday operations.

First, we explore how technology-driven change management can be an effective way forward to tackle a novel challenge, i.e., introducing skill subjects. This will include identifying which new subjects to begin with, finding the right teaching talent, and investing in relevant digital tools and physical infrastructure to deliver a superior learning experience.

The intent is to ensure we don't overwhelm those impacted by these changes and implement strategies that lead to wider acceptance at an organizational level, all while fostering psychological safety across stakeholders.

Alright! That's all for now. Until next time :)

PS: In case you're new here, we have started an exclusive community for school teachers and administrators where you can share your feedback and let me know what topics you'd like me to cover next.

Hi! I'm here, on the adjacent table — those of you reading this from beyond the unpaved and #alwaysdugup microcosm of the 100 feet road, Paper and Pie, a hip work cafe here in Indiranagar, Bangalore, is usually crazy busy on weekends, filled with murmuring of hundreds of conversations and yet here I was, seeking a cure for my writer's block.

Back to Aditi and Pranav, uh, how do I know their names? Well, the way they greeted each other, ADITI! PRANAV! I'm pretty sure the entire cafe knows them by now. Typical teenage loud-talkers, I tell ya.

These two teeners wearing their oversized tees started their chatter with colorful exaggerations of their respective high-school drama, ordered some yum, yum food (which I approve of), and right before it showed up, Pranav asked the dreaded question, "So, how's the prep goin?"

The food was now on the table, and then there was silence — a minute passed by and then another. Aditi took a sip, dropped her head with a heavy sigh, and said "I don't know ya, it's too overwhelming! I'm, like, prepping for six exams. I'm giving JEE Mains, BITSAT, COMEDK, DAT, UCEED, and yeah, CUET. Is it just me, or there is no time at all for anything in life anymore?"

Pranav nodded vigorously in agreement — munching on his French toast, he declared, "I'm pretty sure I'm going to, like, flunk my 12th boards." Aditi, with a smirk, reacts, "Aye! Too much ya! You were like in the top 10 in your 11th na."

"Yeah, that was 11th, when I had time for school (in air quotes). The day 12th started, all I do is spend my waking hours preparing for these #%@*&%! entrance exams! I can’t even remember the last time I did something fun — the moment I wake up, all I do is lug around that 60,000-page study material from my coaching, where I spend more time than at my own house or those online live sessions, because why not? 12 hours of prep in a windowless cage is obvio not enough!"

Pranav responded in a visibly frustrated tone, and for some reason, I could feel the nerve-wracking stress of these poor young souls. But then my first thought was, "Don't you worry, it's just one year, this too shall pass."

Then I realized, does it though?

A quick guide on how to wreck your teens and 20s

Millions of Aditis and Pranavs across the country engage in this years-long endeavor of "cracking entrance exams," starting as soon as middle school when they are as young as 12, and the joyless (?) quest continues till they reach their mid-to-late 20s.

By then, the counterproductive spirit of zero-sum mechanics is so ingrained in one's personality that it becomes almost impossible to let go of the idea that for one to win, others must lose.

The following text is a satirical representation of the current state of education in India. If you do not enjoy satire, feel free to skip to the next section.

It starts right after one’s twelveth birthday when the newly minted teen is thrown into the arena of this Hunger-Games-styled battleground to compete with millions of others — all vying for the same glorious future of being part of a small set of extremely selective universities.

The perceived social capital of being part of an old, prestigious institute is so alluring that one is willing (or unwillingly forced to!) to sacrifice the best years of their life — it doesn't matter you're just turned 12, it's time to get serious about "securing the future" by giving up on frivolous activities like acting your age, being curious, experimentative — because, hey, if it's not part of the exam syllabus, you better not waste time on that!

So, you are dead set to play the game of setting-life-goals-based-on-unrealistic-societal-expectations? Welcome aboard, mate - the rules are pretty simple.

To begin with, spend the rest of your middle school living in self-doubt about your competence by constantly one-upping your peers, and the only metric to care for is your report card grades — make sure you score A+ and above across the subjects, as even a single B can push you to the bottom tier, so yeah, no pressure :)

Pro-tip: Don't bother about deeply grasping the subjects — you can forget what you learned the moment you step out of the exam center. Remember, grades matter, knowledge, not so much. This keeps you agile as you always remain empty-headed.

Done? Alrighty, time for Level 2

This level has two pathways, but both are equally miserable, so feel free to pick one with an inky-pinky-ponky knockout — you can either choose to stay at home and join a coaching center or go to a new destination, the cram-school capital of India and pick from hundreds of residential experiences that will push your mental wellbeing to its limits.

The sole purpose of these cram, oh my bad, I mean coaching institutes is to undermine your self-confidence and make you feel worthless, which they will mostly succeed in. Only a few leave these territories not being scarred for life, so just give in to the pressure and do what they say without questioning the authority. Got it, comrade?

The best part about this extraordinary experience — these centers are extremely good at sucking the humanity out of you and take immense pride in making you an exceptional exam-writing drone. Believe me, once you commit to the system, all you'll care about for the next two years is cracking exams and nothing else! Who cares about personality development and intellectual curiosity? It's for losers anyways.

They will employ every possible tactic in the book (or should I say study material!?) to convince your uninitiated prefrontal cortex that the way of life they are preaching is indeed the only way worth living and if you're not spending 16 hours a day preparing for entrance exams during your teenage years, especially using their number-one, best-ever prep resources, you're committing the greatest sin in the history of human existence.

Phew, alright, it seems you have survived the grueling two years, so now it's time for the final showdown (sort of!)

Dun, dun, dunnnnn! Be prepared to juggle half a dozen entrance exams along with your boards over the next several weeks.

This weeks-long showdown tests your context-switching and endurance skills, but no matter how good you are, it comes down to luck anyways — it's not that someone who scored a few points less than the cutoff is any less competent to pursue their desired undergrad major, but hey, it's an awful lot of fun to taunt and demoralize the teens — “you should’ve worked harder, now you go figure whatever that means!”

I guess it's time for a commercial break — so let me introduce you to Mr. Grinch while you wait for your results. Over to you, sir.

Hehehe, hello hello! I'm Grinch. Exam-prep grinch. I can twist my head, and I can trick your mind. I can make you believe whatever I desire 😈

I know, I know, now's a good time for you to self-reflect on your experiences so far and think about ways to make more independent, informed decisions about life, but hey, hey, you fellas are too exhausted to do any of that — so enjoy binging on Netflix K-drama and don’t you dare chill.

Finally, the results are out, and you ... hmm ... didn't clear the entrance with a “worthy” rank — sorry to call you out, but you're a LOSER! Oh, got a decent rank but couldn't secure an admit at one of the top 5 universities — you, my friend, are a bigger LOSER.

Oh, oh, got selected at one of the top five, but couldn't get into the specialization that offers 8-figure paycheck right after graduation? — haha, you're the WORST! It doesn't matter if it's the major of your interest — if we, the kingmakers at coaching institutes deem that it has no future, it has no future, period!

These exams are designed to leave exactly six students happy about their decisions and outcomes, so the rest of you million ‘lost aspirants’, it's time to aspire again!

Even before the first day of college starts, enrol yourself to prepare for the post-grad and civil services entrance exams. What college life? Nonsense! You losers need to realize that if you don't play this game of Great Indian Entrance Tamasha, you’re a burden to humankind.

How do I explain this!? We’ve got a multi-billion dollar market to protect, fellas — and this exam-prep market feeds on your naive younghood and boundless optimism. It thrives when you give up on your own endeavours and make exam-prepping the ultimate purpose of your life — at least until you're 30, because after that, you’re too wise to fall for this bullsh*t anyways.

Hehehe, I guess my job here is done. You guys have been a lovely audience, and I hope to see you … never.

Renaissance or a generational crisis — Well, it’s on us to decide!

Alright, /end satire, time for some real talk.

As the most populous nation on the planet, we have hit a once-in-a-generation jackpot. We have the largest young working age demographics, a near-double-digit growth rate and a modern, progressive education policy (more on this in an upcoming post).

Add to that, a large base of tech talent that is globally sought-after and a collective shift of our political ideologies towards economic health is a welcome move too.

Turns out the sought-after talent represents just about 3.8% of the graduates — millions remain unemployed years after graduation. Most of them might have learned the technical skills in their undergrad, but no one taught them the value of the spirit of experimentation or exposed them to cross-cultural team dynamics to effectively collaborate with global teams, undermining their success in modern work environments.

What's worse? This phenomenon of mindless exam-prepping has already played out in other Asian nations with devastating societal effects.

In a number of Asian societies such as China, South Korea and Taiwan, there is a single exam that effectively determines the course of individuals' lives. In China, it is called the "gaokao," a shorter Chinese term for the intense multi-day ordeal that makes Western standardized university entrance exams look like a pleasant walk in the park. The test is so notoriously difficult, the competition so fierce, and the outcome so important, that parents across the entire socioeconomic spectrum spend exorbitant sums of money to send their children to "cram schools," or after-school tutoring academies where students continue studying late into the night. Tuition fees are so expensive that middle class and low-income parents spend most of their income on these cram schools, and for this reason most of them cannot afford to have more than one child due to all the costs involved.

The costs for schooling children is one reason that has led to a historically low birth rate for China (and South Korea) and presents a big problem for a nation with ambitions to maintain its status as an economic powerhouse. (Source - US News)

A lot many of us may not realize the power of a large, healthy, young population for our collective national prosperity. The India growth story and its economic engine is entirely dependent on it, and so are our young children and aging parents who need our well-deserved support in the form of quality social security systems.

A rising tide lifts all boats — by growing the economic pie, we can support both the economic and the unique socio-cultural characteristics of our society. When the economy thrives, culture thrives, art thrives, morality thrives.

So, a large, healthy, young population is enough to make this possible?

Nope! We need an intellectually curious, naively optimistic, and playfully anarchic "large, healthy, young population” to pull this off. Confused what that even means? Watch this inspiring commencement speech by Mark Rober, one of my favorite YouTubers, who talks about this in depth — I don't think I can do a better job than this.

And we grow this pie by creating exceptional value that the world consumes. We create exceptional value by nurturing the spirit of curiosity, collaboration and creative experimentation, right from middle school.

The new education policy has taken a step in the right direction by introducing several new skill subjects that prepare our young students to face the new economy and evolving social constructs — the very content they learn today might not be relevant by the time they graduate, but the meta-skills gained by being exposed to these hands-on subjects will have a tremendous positive impact in their professional and possibly in personal lives as well.

And to make this possible, we need to empower our schools with more firepower. It's time we all collectively redirect the billions of dollars spent on exam-prep mania to help schools invest in these ambitious new initiatives.

Just a fraction of the total money this country spends on exam-prep can have compounding returns, both in terms of economic prosperity and, most importantly, in nurturing a generation of well-rounded, bold citizens who believe they can tackle any challenge, be it economic or social, by working collaboratively with their fellow citizens.

By eliminating the propagation of this crabs-in-a-bucket mindset that the multi-billion dollar exam-prep industry aggressively pushes for, influencing our teens’ impressionable minds …

… it's high time we teach them the value of embracing unique individualities and the superpower of team spirit.

All right folks, it's time to wrap up! Thanks for reading, and I would love to hear your thoughts. You can reach out to me through email or LinkedIn. Not active on other socials for now. See ya!

She's pacing in her room, memorizing the important syllabus, and unfortunately, her nervous foot tapping, is keeping yours truly, awake.

To be fair, I don't blame her — I was in that boat not long ago. Every year, come March, Indian households thoroughgoingly plan for this turning point event, and no stone is left unturned to prepare teenagers for this grueling high-stakes affair of proving one's academicness and self-worth through memorization and writing speed in a tight three-hour window.

There may be redos in life but board exams, nada!

Know the answer but are slow to write, too bad; had a heavy meal last night and ended up in the loo for an extra five minutes, too bad again.

Lying on my bed, scrolling through the HN feed, a thought popped up — what this young teen is going through, I went through it a decade ago. My sister, who’s nine years older, went through the same, and I guess so did my parents.

But is this what we have been doing throughout the history of our civilization, and more importantly, is this what we will continue to do for the decades to come?

Well, it’s 1:40a now — I'm curious, I’m awake, and my favorite coffee shop is open for delivery — so a hot cup of Orange Zest Mocha Latte it is, and off I go digging the internet to understand childhood and adolescent education — from when it all began to where we are today.

A few weeks and 56 cups of Third Wave Coffee later …

Soooo, I have a lot to share, and it's incredibly fascinating. But I don't want to overwhelm you with a bunch of historical texts and thousands of sheets of research journals.

But first, here's a disclaimer — Although I might share my insights into the social, political, and economic constructs of those times, this essay aims to look at these historical phenomena solely to understand childhood and adolescent education.

I intend to offer no commentary on why certain power struggles happened, about cultural practices that don't make sense to us in the modern world, or if any particular political system or ruler was better or worse for the commoners. Observing history is already a biased activity, and the more variables one adds, the muddier and more unclear the core objective becomes.

Keeping the long story short, whatever I'm sharing in the following paragraphs is my opinionated view, trying my best to limit personal bias and focusing solely on, sorry to repeat it again, childhood and adolescent education through ages.

Now with that out of the way, here's how we're gonna do it — first, let's split the ever-expanding human history into five time periods that are relevant to our observation:

• Ancient Era - Pre-650s CE

• Medieval Era - 650s to Late 1700s CE

• Modern Era - 1800s to 1947

• Contemporary Era - 1947 to 2015

• Technology Era - 2015 onwards

Some of you might be curious why am I not sharing my observations about the times before the 650s — well, two reasons — one, the further away we're in history, the harder it gets to find documented evidence as for numerous cultures, spoken language was necessary for survival, reading and writing was not. Turns out, even today, one-half of the world's 7000 or so living languages do not have a written form.

And secondly, this essay intends to understand history to help design better educational outcomes for today and tomorrow, for which observing recent history is a more relevant endeavor as it still influences how we do things over something that happened several thousand years ago.

Again, that's my approach, and if you disagree, feel free to do your own research and don't forget to share your awesome Substack post with me — I'm always eager to learn something new :)

Alright peeps, buckle up — we're about to time travel.

To make this expedition possible, I've got early access to an invite-only, pre-alpha version of a time-travel app built by a stealth-mode startup located here in the bustling urban neighborhood of Indiranagar. Hey, hey, I'm in Bangalore — we have an app for everything!

Off we goooo … see you on the other side! (such an original plot, or not)

Jumping into hyperspace, transversing the Ancient Era

Whoa, what a ride! I'm feeling super hungry — hope the Rameshwaram Podi Idlis that I packed remain as idlis and have not become a relic.

But this is such a stark, contrasting experience — from the busy concrete streets of 12th Main to this lush green jungle full of tall trees and rough trails, and hey, spotted a couple of endangered birds too.

Okay, enough with the distractions — let’s focus on why we're here.

You see that house with mud walls and thatched roof next to that Banyan tree — it's a hermitage, a guru’s (mentor) home that acts as a rural school located far away from the hustle and bustle of village life (I know it sounds ironic from our point of view, but compare it in relative terms)

In the early childhood years, mostly till the age of 8, kids stay at home with their parents, learn to walk, get potty-trained, cause ruckus and chaos that they deem as play, make parents experience both awe and terror, and of course, grasp the basics of spoken language that's prominent in the region.

Once they reach middle childhood, an initiation ceremony takes place, which marks the beginning of the child's educational journey, following which they are sent to a hermitage school which is led by a well-revered guru where the child spends the next 12 years getting educated by living at the hermitage — similar to a modern equivalent of boarding schools.

Alright, let's peek into the hermitage premises. The guru and some of the students are outdoors — sitting under the Banyan tree, he is reciting a story in the form of verses, and children of different ages all sitting together and listening with utmost interest, except that one drowsy kid who definitely had a heavy Udipi breakfast.

The pedagogy design focused on a transdisciplinary learning approach — instead of learning multiple subjects independently, the emphasis was on making the student's mind capable of comprehending the complexities and intricate linkages of the real world holistically.

This was achieved by interweaving disciplines like Grammar, Arithmetic, Biology, Politics, Ethics, Astronomy, Music, Fine Arts, and Crafts, which was imparted through epic poems and aphorisms.

This throws some light on why the famous Indian fables and epics, namely the Panchatantra, Mahabharata and Ramayana, are so elaborate — these act as extensive, all-encompassing textbooks to teach students the subjects mentioned above in an engaging, narrative-style format. So cool!

I see a bunch of students on the other side next to the freshwater stream flowing down the hill slope — it looks like a couple of older students are teaching arithmetic to the younger ones.

This learning-by-teaching approach was indeed an ingenious way of scaling academic instruction. But, you may ask, why not just hand out books to every student? Well, that’s because, back then, manuscripts were mostly handwritten on dried palm leaves by skilled artisans that took months to produce.

Remember, we are talking about times that predate the invention of the printing press, let alone the digital media and the Internet — man, when we look back is when we realize what fascinating times we live in today!

This approach was later introduced to the western hemisphere by Andrew Bell as the aptly named Madras System (also known as monitorial system and Bell–Lancaster method) in the early 19th century.

The guru just concluded the recitation session, and it looks like some students are heading to the village while others have started cleaning the hermitage premises.

Every day students are assigned responsibilities to tend the cattle, walk to the woods to collect firewood and visit the nearby villages to collect donations in the form of grains, clothing, and other necessities to run the hermitage effectively.

The idea is to teach students the value of the dignity of labor, student brotherhood, and humility, as the goal of education was to help students not just comprehend facts but apply them in their day-to-day lives and by basically running the hermitage, they are getting trained to become capable, productive contributors of society.

As students paid no fees for tuition and lodging, contributions in the form of grains, medicine, and clothing from the villagers helped in the day-to-day operations, while larger endowments from royals and the rich of the land supported the infrastructural needs of the hermitage.

Another interesting observation is that although power struggles led to wars and change in dynasties, the villages mostly acted as self-governing republics. Most rulers in the Ancient Era who conquered new regions in South Asia believed in the same faith and shared similar value systems and cultural practices; thus, the hermitage-based education system remained largely unaffected and continued to thrive.

Furthermore, the villagers actively supported these institutions as the graduates of this system were well-rounded individuals who, in turn, positively contributed to the village economy — and when the alums started a family, they would send their kids to the hermitage, so the cycle continued.

Most students would exit the heritage system after 12 years of education and start contributing from their early twenties onwards. The common professions for the time were trade, religious services, military, and kingdom administration services.

Back then, students generally tend to pursue their family profession — after graduating from the hermitage school, they start as apprentices to their parents, who teach them the ins and outs of their family profession, and after a few years of involvement, the apprentice takes over the family profession. This was a useful and cost-effective training approach for the time, as most villages had a small population and limited employment opportunities.

But a few students who sought to advance their quest for knowledge moved beyond their villages to explore Carakas, Parishads, and Vishwavidyalayas.

Some join Carakas, a union of students who seek to advance their knowledge through discussion among themselves as well as by the instruction of renowned specialists. These students would wander across the subcontinent in the quest for higher knowledge and act as peripatetic teachers conducting and spreading scientific and philosophical studies.

Others would join Parishads, an academy dedicated to advanced studies funded by the royals of the country. These are similar to research fellowship positions offered in modern times — the scholars were offered the required necessities, be it accommodation, stipend, and other allowances, to lead a comfortable life so that they could continue to focus on their academic pursuits.

The royals also organized multi-day conferences to invite students and scholars from all walks of life to share their learnings and debate with each other.

Some of the hermitages grew in size, hosting thousands of students and receiving generous endowments from the royals, making them the equivalent to modern-day universities or viswavidyalayas.

My #2Cents

Looking back at these simpler times, for most, education primarily prepared adolescents for adulthood who would continue to live and contribute to their local community. Considering the life expectancy, the early twenties back then were equivalent to the early thirties of our time — basically, the goal right after finishing 'high school' was to settle down, start a family, and be a responsible taxpayer :)

And for most job roles, you gained the required skills by working, not through academic instruction — and as only a few chose to pursue advanced studies, the university system remained a rather niche experience.

Another observation that I believe I will continue to see as a trend while observing the upcoming eras is that all academic entities were heavily reliant on top-down benevolence, as they were primarily supported by the royals and a few rich merchants.

If, for any reason, a generation of royals chose not to support these institutions, the entire system of adolescent education, as well as advanced studies, would be gravely affected, leading to a generational loss in literacy and academic spirit.

Alrighty! It's time to visit the next Era. Initiating hyperjump, here we … oh wait, where's Teddy!?

So, who am I? Born in the 'burbs of Bombay, raised by a banker dad and a veena enthusiast mom who, to pursue their ambition, moved from a quiet little town nestled in south India to the megacity that never sleeps.

I'm an architecture buff with a knack for building digital products, and I care deeply about positive social systems, especially the effect of physical and digital spaces on human behavior and social interactions.

By the way, you can call me Venkata or Venca if you're from East Asia. Venca? Well, it's a funny story — remind me about it when we meet IRL.

Note: The following section is my personal story giving you a glimpse of what motivated me to start ForwardEd. It’s a 20-minute read, so grab a cup of cappuccino or chai latte and read on. But, if you're more interested in knowing what ForwardEd is all about and how you can be a part of this exciting community, feel free to skip and scroll down to the Quick Intro section.

The 'curious' beginnings

To understand my deep passion for positive educational outcomes and its ability to propel the human spirit, allow me to take you on a journey — starting with three individuals who unknowingly shaped my childhood and teenage learning experiences. Think of these stories as a peek into what the next decade in education holds.  

Say hello to Arora uncle, Medha ma'am, and my beloved Jagadeesh Mamaiya.

Cut to the late nineties; yours truly is five, and we lived in a gated township in Bombay with hundreds of families of various origins from across the country who called these apartments their new homes.

These ambitious yet neighborly folks left their hometowns filled with hope and brought along with them their value systems, cultural practices, and culinary diversity.

I remember the evenings of my early childhood — buzzing corridors and lively play parks with several dozen kids playing several dozen games, aunties gossiping about the latest episode of their favorite TV series and uncles (or should I call them armchair political geniuses) with their passionate current event debates.

Our common spaces were a great representation of a chirpy third place, and I believe everyone looked forward to spending their evening hours together. We loved being together so much that we just needed excuses to celebrate each others' presence — religion, culture, no bar!

Amma tells me I started walking when I was 7 months old — I guess I didn't want to miss out on the fun!

So, why did I spend the last couple of minutes telling you about my childhood? Well, a safe, joyful environment exposing me to these unique people and experiences was fundamental to my early childhood development that set a solid foundation to foster my innate curiosity.

Act I — The Arora Adventure

Now, back to the story, amongst these wonderful people were the Aroras and my favorite Deepak Chandra Arora — an IIT Kharagpur alum who became known for his engineering chops building probably the best conveyor belts the country has seen. 

Although his business office and manufacturing plants were a few miles away, he had set up his home office in the flat right opposite ours.

The five-year-old me never felt that his office was not my home — I would just walk in with my teddy tucked in my arms, spending hours attending business meetings sitting on Arora uncle's lap, staring at massive charts of engineering drawings and business models (tbh, I had no clue what they were back then) and of course, sharing my valuable feedback with deep-red crayons (phew! thank god they were erasable).

The family-like bond that made Arora uncle extend his warmth, letting me hang out and continue my shenanigans, had an unintended consequence — the more time I spent at his office, the more I learned and gained an acumen subconsciously. He would answer all my silly, curious questions with utmost patience and with no expectation in return.

This adventure continued for the next six-odd years until our family moved to a new city.

What I do today has its origins in this pure, innocent relationship we shared, for which I'm ever grateful for.

Act II — Merlin to junior high me

Did I tell ya that my dad's a banker!? — so we ended up switching cities every few years (I've lived in more than half a dozen cities so far), and this time I landed in Hyderabad — the city of pearls, Nawabi lifestyle, and lip-smacking biryani.

Throughout middle school, I was a decent student but lacked deep passion for any of the subjects I learned — until the day I attended Medha mam's class.

The approach to education during my schooling years was primarily focused on fact-based learning and the ability to recall in standardized assessments. It's the way that was widely accepted and not questioned by many — except for a few and among those was Medha mam.

She taught social sciences focusing on civic education with a unique approach for that time — something that we call today the flipped classroom strategy.

She expected her students to be inquisitive, to question the facts and be willing to defend one's opinions openly with logic and rationale. No points for guessing, but this became my favorite class, and I guess I became her favorite student (some might argue that it was both Eshwar and me, but I strongly disagree!)

I would frequently skip sports and yoga periods and end up in the staff room, sitting next to her, reading not just the textbooks but books written by renowned subject-matter experts and having candid conversations while she prepared study plans and evaluated answer sheets. She would give me 'extra' homework’, and I would spend hours in the evening in front of my computer scouring the internet and share my findings with her the next day.

She is the one who introduced me to scientific inquiry for both objective and subjective knowledge — again, as I look back, I owe a good part of my career and the way I lead my life in general to her for nurturing my curiosity and giving me the knowledge of tools to express it.

Thank you, Medha mam, you will always be my favorite and … Eshwar, back off!

Act III — Meeting a superhuman in disguise

So, this time, we time travel to my high school years — yes, we moved again, and it's my parent's hometown, a small coastal city known for its centuries-old temples, flamingo festival and ghee karam dosas.

For someone who has resided in metropolitans all his life, Nellore is a city that feels like it's stuck in a time warp — nothing much has changed since my parents left the city decades ago — this slow-paced city lives in its own microcosm untethered by the rapid progress of the rest of the world around it.

What brings us to Nellore? Well, my Akka decided to pursue her master’s here, and my parents felt it would be a good idea to have both siblings in the same city.

So, Amma, Akka, and I moved from Hyderabad to our 80-year-old ancestral townhouse situated on the busy streets of Nawabpet, a bustling commercial and business center of the city.

What was fascinating about this house was the moment you closed the doors and windows that faced the main street, the street noise magically disappeared, and the calm revealed these intimate, cozy spaces where my mother, along with her six siblings, spent their childhood in.

All seven of 'em born and raised under these beautiful teak-wood ceilings, playing caught-and-escape on the red-oxide flooring of the verandah, star-gazing from the back garden and pestering my grandma impatiently to serve the yum yum delicacies she was world-famous for (well, at least amongst the relatives).

As time passed, they left the nest, one by one, moving away from the city, some even moving to other countries. They built new homes, a new world and this home was left with just sweet memories.

Except for one, who, even though had spent four decades living in more than thirty countries, would always fly back to this home that bought him a sense of calm and true belonging. This was his safe place, his one true home.

And his name was Dr Anumakonda Jagadeesh, my maternal uncle (Mamaiya in my mother tongue Telugu) and a superhuman in disguise.

The world knew him as a distinguished scientist and a celebrated professor known for his contributions in the fields of wind energy and biofuels. An IIT Roorkee alum who was nominated as a Member of the Sigma Xi Society and Fellow of the Royal Meteorological Society; served as a working member at MIT Media Lab Programme and UN Foundation for Sustainable Energy for All, among several other international positions and accolades.

Spending almost all evening hours of my highschool years at his home office, I witnessed the inner workings of this man's exceptional curiosity, relentless grit, and work ethic that made him successful — his innate drive that seemingly made him younger, every passing day.

To me, home offices are such unique spaces to witness as one unleashes one's true self without the facade of aesthetics and self-restraint to host others — it's intimate, it's messy, it's an extension of your mind, it's a symphony that only you understand.

Okay, give me a few more minutes to help you understand why this was such an important phase of my life.

So, it's been about a couple of weeks since we moved to Nellore, and everything feels different. I'm not able to relate to my classmates, be it the cultural differences or the world views; the broadband folks are taking ages to process the connection request — I was feeling a void, unsure of what the next couple of years hold.

Back from school, it's early evening, and I was on our verandah staring at the passing vehicles and street vendors — waiting for the sun to set and prepping my school bag for the next day … #smallcitylife

My mum handed me a cup of hot chocolate and said, "why don't you go upstairs and say hi to your uncle? He returned from the US yesterday". Honestly, I was disinterested (you all know the typical relative talk we all wish to avoid!) and said, "yeah, maybe later".

You see, my mumma knows me well. She took the empty cup from my hands and murmured, "your wish … just to let you know, I think he has internet."

Well, in no time, I, with a gleam in my eyes, was upstairs knocking on his door. His wife, Sarada aunty opened the door — I pointed my fingers up and asked, "Is Mamaiya upstairs?" She nodded and showed me the way to his home office.

I have met Jagadeesh Mamaiya once or twice before, but I was too young to understand what he really did. All I knew he was a scientist and everyone in the family called him 'scooter mamaiya' because he loved going on scooter rides whenever he was back in the city.

As I enter his home office, I see a computer desk overflowing with files and science magazines, walls cocooned with full-length bookshelves, a bed for power naps, and several cartons on the floor filled with more books and more files. Right opposite this room was an open terrace where he had his roof garden and a single outdoor chair to enjoy the serene coastal evenings.

Mamaiya was typing an email and asked me to sit next to him. I pulled the wooden stool and sat down, staring at his computer screen with utmost anticipation — waiting for him to finish his email, getting my hands on the computer, logging into Facebook and chatting with my good 'ol friends from Bombay and Hyderabad. Ooo, what bliss!

You see, the thing is, it was not an email … it was an email list. A list of 500-odd high profile contacts he would regularly send emails to, sharing the latest in the world of science and tech, his research updates and his conference experiences. He had been doing this long before the newsletter economy was even a thing!

He looked at me and said it might take about 40-45 minutes to finish his work. I said, "no problem!" with a big fake smile and, out of boredom, picked up the magazine lying next to me. If I remember correctly, it was the Nature journal.

I started by skimming through the pages — but the more I read, the more I slowed down. I was amazed by the research breakthroughs and all these new inventions and discoveries that no one in school ever mentioned about. By the time Mamaiya finished his work, I was engrossed in the journal — he later told me he saw a spark in my eyes that day, and I'm so glad he did.

Half hour later, he tapped on my shoulder and pointed I could now use the computer. I spent the next hour liking posts and chatting with my friends, and when I was about to leave, I asked if I could borrow the magazine? He nodded, and I spent a good part of the night reading it in awe and amazement that I don't remember feeling before.

The next day, sorry evening (remember, I'm 17, I have school to attend), I showed up at his place again, but the room looked a bit different. The cartons were all gone except for one.

Mamaiya, again in front of his computer, this time on one of his favorite sites, Yale Environment 360, asked me to grab the carton and go through it. There were a bunch of science magazines, memorabilia from his conference visits and a hardbound notebook.

He asked me to read up the magazines, pick a couple of articles that I found interesting and write a small memo summarizing the said articles.

You see, I was the kind of student who never brings homework 'home', and I was mostly free in the evenings … so why not? I was more than happy to try it out.

I picked up the carton, landed in my room and for the next few days, I’M ON AN ADVENTURE! I'm discreetly reading these magazines during school hours, penning down notes in my pocket notebook as I eat my lunch, skipping my favorite TV shows and game nights to write the memo — and finally, a week later, I show up in his room with my writings but this time with a genuine, heartfelt smile.

Of all the stuff I read, I was spellbound by the research and technology breakthroughs in renewable energy and sustainable farming. And guess who was the subject matter expert in these fields — Mamaiya! — I guess it's in the genes man!

I showed him my notes and the memo, and I still vividly remember when he said, "Somehow, I had this feeling that you have a knack for scientific writing. You have a long way to go, but this is a good first memo. How about this? Do you want to join my think tank and work alongside me?"

That moment, that gut feeling, that opportunity, changed my life's trajectory. A seventeen-year-old getting a chance to work with one of the greatest minds, call it luck, fate — I was excited beyond words!

The next fourteen months were a pure adventure. I joined him as a part-time research analyst, and my job was to summarize research publications and write executive memos for the non-scientific audience.

I would tag along with him visiting conferences and award ceremonies — meeting people who were stalwarts in their fields, be it the top researchers, business leaders, UN directors, politicians and observe how all of them came together, bringing different viewpoints and agendas trying to solve a common challenge. It was truly a magical ride for this curious teenager to witness.

With all the work and time away from school, my parents couldn't find a reason to ask me to stop doing this as somehow, I managed to study and still be one of the top students in my class even after spending several all-nighters working on the executive memos and proposals.

But hands-down, the best time I had was working alongside him at his home office — back from school, I would freshen up and quickly rush upstairs to spend the rest of the evening until midnight struck, and my mum would have called for the sixth time, but this time on his landline so that we can't avoid the call, to send me downstairs.

The evening starts with a roof garden walk — he with his filter coffee and I with my hot chocolate — I would share the updates of what I had worked on, and he would be watering the houseplants while sharing feedback on what I can improve.

After a quick 20-minute walk, we are back indoors, and I start working on improving my memos. While writing, I would observe how his mind works through his browser tabs. 

Here's how it goes — he comes across a new scientific publication, and within a few seconds, he would recall related publications from the past, sometimes spanning decades ago; multiple new browser tabs pop open of SpringerLink or Google Scholar, he speedreads the papers to understand what has evolved and what shortcomings still persist, share his thoughts with the fellow researchers, make notes for future reference … now, onto the next publication.

Imagine spending all evening doing this, sharing at least half a dozen detailed reviews by midnight and then waking up early in the morning, heading to the university to pursue his own research and guide his grad and PhD students.

What makes this man, in his mid-60s, who had a successful international career with enough accumulated wealth to spend an extremely comfortable retirement, work every day like his life depends on it?

The closest answer I could find when I look back as a young adult was that his curiosity and grit made him feel alive. Challenging himself every day gave him a child-like joy that many of us, as we grow older, tend to stray away from.

There were times I just couldn't write anymore and felt like giving up — call it a brain fog, writer's block — he would sense my frustration and say, "Not in the zone? Go take a break, do something else and then come back. Taking a break is an option, giving up is not." 

And it always worked! A few hours (sometimes a few days if it's an important, detailed proposal) away from my work, strolling around the city streets, especially the lovely flower market next to the bus depot and biking through the green patches under the beautiful evening sun rays, just observing, not thinking of anything, just … living the moment. When I returned, I was reinvigorated, and my next set of iterations was always far more superior.

This idea of forcing creativity and innovation out of individuals in constrained, stuffy indoor environments sounds extremely superficial to me — without igniting true curiosity and grit, without acknowledging the deep impact of letting the mind and thoughts wander, not realizing creativity is an outcome of living vivid experiences beyond the pursuit of mastery of just that one thing — without realizing this, the expectation of breakthrough creativity is nothing but a lofty dream.

Mamaiya had varied interests, and this was candidly expressed during the dinnertime — both of us slurping on sambar rice and him sharing his travel stories, childhood mischiefs, and his action-packed life lived over six decades full of unique experiences across continents — facing conflicts, and how his wit and sometimes his charm got him out of messy situations. If you ask me, some of the top shows would find it difficult to beat his stories and narration.

So, your lad is now officially an adult heading to pursue his undergrad. I was torn between pursuing industrial design and science communication but ended up choosing the latter. Back then, there were no undergraduate courses in India offering specialization in science communication/journalism, so Mamaiya suggested that I join a journalism school, and he would help me find opportunities in science journalism.

So, I joined a college in Hyderabad, but I guess life had other plans. In my sophomore year, I had a realization — although I liked writing about scientific and technological breakthroughs, I was more excited about building businesses that made these "breakthroughs" a reality.

This was the beginning of my startup journey. India was going through an agrarian crisis, and I saw an opportunity in making small-scale farms more energy and resource-efficient using smart sensors and predictive analytics.

However, I wanted to validate the problem statement — so to understand the ground realities, I went on an expedition visiting several villages, interacting with hundreds of farmers, merchants, NGOs and state officials to comprehend the problem more holistically.

Ten months later, I founded Avenca. I led a small team, and as we had limited funding, I donned multiple hats — I was responsible for product management, design, finance, marketing, and sales.

I had no formal training in building products or leading a team, but I taught myself what was needed along the way. Although we were not as successful as we intended to be, I was proud of what we achieved as a small team, especially the exceptional product experience and customer retention rate.

Anyhow, on the other end, my conversations with Mamaiya never stopped. We would exchange emails every day, call each other at least once a week, and have hour-long conversations about his research, my startup challenges, what's new in science and tech, and of course, his life adventures that I just couldn't get enough of.

As time passed, I became busier with my new job — although the email exchanges became less frequent, I would still call him every fortnight, and the excitement of hour-long conversations never faded.

Then came the day - May 2, 2021. The second wave of the pandemic was reaching its peak. The medical infrastructure in the country was collapsing — hospitals were out of beds, and a shortage of oxygen cylinders and medical supplies became a nationwide phenomenon.

Early Sunday morning, Mamaiya had a cardiac arrest — the first responders were a little too late to show up — the ambulance was a little too late to arrive — the oxygen in the ambulance ran out — and by the time they arrived at the hospital, Mamaiya … was no more.

There are moments in life when you feel jolted — moments so shocking, so abrupt that you just can't comprehend what has happened, unable to express any emotions.

When the family was grieving, I was blanked out — a void I was unprepared for. 

I was not ready for a world where I would email him and not get a response; I was not ready for a world where I would call him and not hear the voice of a joyful man ever excited to share his life stories. I was just not ready for a life … without him.

It took me several months to process this new reality and accept that he was no longer with us. It was months later, when I was staring at my unkempt beard in front of the washroom mirror, a tear trickled, followed by a heavy-hearted groan and then finally … a tearful smile reminding me of memories and life lessons that he left with me.

This is my story, the story of a curious yet confused kid and how these wonderful souls, my teachers from different phases of my life, found a spark inside me, nurtured it and made me who I'm today with no expectations in return.

And this is my reason for starting ForwardEd — to embrace, to appreciate the profound impact a teacher has on their students and to assist them in whatever way possible in achieving their noble pursuit of nurturing the next generation of inquisitive, thoughtful individuals.

Quick Intro

ForwardEd is an invite-only close-knit community of teachers, administrators, and management from schools across the country who come together on a safe, non-judgmental forum to converse about the future of K12 education.

Think of this forum as a support system that helps you navigate the shifting paradigm of K12 education necessitated by the new economy and evolving social constructs. With the introduction of the National Education Policy of 2020, crucial yet radical changes have emerged, challenging how we design and deliver pedagogy and curricula that engages students and helps them achieve meaningful outcomes.

By bringing together a diverse set of K12 educators, the intent is to offer a platform to engage in conversations, including the uncomfortable ones, with the sole purpose of helping you become more resilient to these imminent changes and thrive as education providers.

Here's a glimpse of what the community will offer:

• This Week in Ed is where we share interesting developments and trends impacting K12 education. These can be articles, research studies, excerpts from books — basically anything that talks about the shifting landscape of schooling. We can have thoughtful, enlightening conversations, sharing our personal experiences and experiments.

• Tea Party Meetups is something I'm super excited about. Once every fortnight, mostly during the weekends, we can all meet on a live video call, sharing our stories and good laughs over some yum yum tea and cookies.

• Interesting Finds is where one can share technology tools, software products, education frameworks, basically anything that will enrich the lives of your fellow teachers and administrators in their everyday work.

• Need Help? Not sure how to set the evaluation criteria or study plans for a new chapter? Whatever you're stuck on, ask the community, and I'm sure the lovely souls here will be more than willing to help. In case of technical help or anything the community cannot help with, I will make sure to put my resources and connections to use and help you find the answer. Pinky promise!

• Mental Wellbeing Safe Space - Thanks to a few friends who have decided to extend their support, consider this your hotline, an ally during those tough times. I'm sure the community would extend its help when needed, but if you wish to seek professional help, just drop a message, and my friends, who are professional therapists, will be more than willing to help. Don't worry about the expenses; it's on me — it's the least I could do. But promise me, you will reach out when you need help, okay?

• K12 Job Board is to share the new K12 job opportunities your school has posted or if you come across some through other channels.

So this is it! I just can't wait to host our tea parties and facilitate the thought-provoking conversations. I'm sure, if Mamaiya was around, he would be proud.

Alright, see you soon, byee! :)

Click here to join our invite-only, close-knit community of K12 educators.

PS: Curious about what I do beyond ForwardEd? Learn more about me here.

PPS: A special bear hug to Deepthi Rajan for bringing the essay to life with her phenomenal illustrations — thanks so much for putting in the extra effort to capture my emotions and life experiences so beautifully :)