Whose Responsibility Is the Child? Rethinking the ‘Absent Parent’ Narrative

Whose Responsibility Is the Child? Rethinking the ‘Absent Parent’ Narrative

Many issues related to school life, conversations, and even heated exchanges—issues that were once settled in my mind because of my experience of over a decade and a half in the field—have started unsettling…And this is largely because of the new observations my trainee students are making. Some of these observations are: “Sir, aap samajhte nahi ho, yeh bahut badmash bacche hain” (Sir, you don’t understand, these are very naughty children), “yeh kaise gharon se aate hain?” (What kind of homes do they come from?), and even, “yeh gaaliyan bhi dete hain” 

There is a sense of wonder in their voices, and also a quick acceptance of the narratives they hear in the school. I ask them to listen to these narratives, yes — but not to believe them blindly; instead, to pause and question, rather than simply become a part of them. They are in a new phase of learning, and the first lesson, I feel, is to question established narratives. A very strong narrative in the school space is that parents are not supporting their children, and that the entire responsibility has been left to the school and the teachers. Many teachers strongly believe that most problems in education cannot be addressed without the active support of parents. And on the surface, this appears to be a legitimate belief.

But I think we need to pause and ask: Where are these parents?

The new economic order that is shaping society — especially in urban spaces — is very different. Typically, and particularly in the context of children who come to government schools, parents are unavailable. And it is not because they want to be unavailable. It is because the economic design does not allow them to be present. Most of them are working double shifts. In many cases, both the mother and the father are working. I have seen young, school-going children supporting their families — taking care of younger siblings, cooking, and providing whatever help they can. In this situation, the roles almost reverse. It is not that parents are unwilling to support their children; it is that the system has made them unavailable.

So, in this context, the expectation that parents should simply “be available” does not seem convincing. We need to understand this larger picture. The economic design has deeply disturbed the way we once understood family and society. And this is not limited to the poor. Even the middle class is facing similar struggles — both parents working long hours, and yet barely managing to make ends meet. It is a harsh system: one that benefits a handful, but leaves the majority living an excruciating life.

In my own teaching life, I witnessed many such stories. Farha Farooqi has vividly captured the lived realities of many such children in her book Ek School Manager Ki Diary. After visiting the homes of some of my students, I often wondered: how do they manage to come to school at all? How do they survive twelve long years of schooling? In circumstances where everything is against them, their mere presence in school feels like a significant achievement.

Now the question is: in an increasingly mechanised school life, where do teachers find the time to pause, reflect, and visit the homes of their students? I am convinced that the moment teachers step into the living spaces of these children, they stop asking, “Why don’t parents support?” What exists, often, is not negligence — but a lack of awareness about the context in which children grow up.

Seen through this lens, the narrative that parents are not interested, or not supportive, seems deeply ill-informed. If we truly look at the larger picture — at migration, at how people are treated in cities, at their struggle for basic necessities like water, clean air, and sanitation — the reality is horrific. And once we face this reality, our expectations from parents will soften. Perhaps, instead of blaming them, we will start asking a different, more urgent question:

Why don’t we have a more enabling, more human-centred, welfare-oriented system — one that allows parents the time and dignity to be present for their children?