On the very first morning of the school year, the teacher greeted his students: “Welcome back, everyone!” — only to hear one of them reply: “I wish I could die rather than come back to school!”
This is not a fictional anecdote, but a true story a high school teacher friend of mine told me — a story that shook him before it reached the ears of his students. A passing comment? Perhaps.
But it is also a slap in the face of both the education system and the family. It is not merely a joke or an expression of boredom — it is a muted cry that reveals the student’s relationship with school: fear, resentment, or a deep sense of alienation.
This is not the first time we have heard such complaints — but what is alarming is when school becomes a symbol of punishment rather than a gateway to life. In history books, we read about Al-Muʿtasim, son of Harun Al-Rashid, who — after the death of his servant — said to his father: “He died and found rest from the kuttab (school).” His father deprived him of education, and the boy grew up illiterate. A single word of hatred toward learning changed the destiny of a future caliph — so imagine the impact of a student’s words in the 21st century!
UNESCO reports indicate that over 30% of students worldwide suffer from “school anxiety” and think about running away from school — some studies even link school hatred to lifelong drops in motivation.
Education that begins with resentment is education that risks producing a generation that sees knowledge as a burden rather than an opportunity. When a student loses passion on the first day, we have already lost half the battle before it begins.
But the responsibility does not fall on the school alone — (one hand does not clap).
A home that talks about education only when grades come out, and never plants the love of curiosity and discovery, will inevitably raise a student who sees school as a temporary prison from which he awaits release. A teacher who merely recites lessons without opening dialogue or connecting knowledge to life only widens the gap.
The educational ecosystem is an interlinked network: the family plants the motivation, the school refines it, and society celebrates it. If one link fails, the entire system malfunctions.
Picture a mother packing her son’s schoolbag in the morning, placing inside it her dream to see him succeed — while in his heart he is whispering: “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
Picture a father dropping his child at the school gate, thinking he has sent him toward a brighter future — while the child’s eyes are already searching for an escape route. This disconnect between what we wish for them and what they actually feel is a wound that will never heal unless home and school join forces to address it.
The solution is not to force them back by power… but to redefine what “returning to school” really means:
- The home must create an environment that inspires children to love learning before they love grades.
- The school must become a space for dialogue and experimentation, not just a site for instructions.
- The student must feel that his voice is heard, that his struggle is understood — not scolded at every complaint.
- The start of the school year must feel like a celebration of knowledge — not merely the countdown to exams.
A student who wishes for death at the sound of the bell does not need a new timetable — he needs a new reason to live his school day.
The real question is not: “When will we take our children back to school?” but rather: “How do we bring the school back to our children?”
