My words may sound harsh. They may even be misunderstood. But I do not write to please you—I write to awaken you. I do not write to pat your shoulder, but to place a mirror in front of you.
In an age of flattery, honesty becomes an offense. In a culture of hollow applause, the one who warns you is mistaken for the enemy. But tell me: can there be education without confrontation? Can awareness be built without shaking the walls?
What I write is not bullying—it is tough love. The same concept taught in Western schools of education under the title “Tough Love”: to love your children enough… to correct them.
We drown in “softening” reality until we no longer see it. We cover up the failure of education with polished words. We justify moral weakness in the name of “progress.” We sanctify mediocrity as “freedom.”
And I cannot tolerate this poisonous kind of flattery—for nations do not rise on makeup, but on courage. When I say education is sick, I am not insulting teachers—I am calling upon them. When I cry out against universities, it is because I fear for the nation from a graduate without an independent mind.
We don’t need more compliments. We need a moment of raw honesty, even if it hurts.
That is why I will continue to write—even if some cry: “You discourage us!” For sometimes, temporary discouragement is better than chronic illusion.
I do not write to discourage you—I write to awaken you, before the final door closes on our awareness.
I remember my high school teacher. He was not loved. He was strict, his voice sharp, he knew no flattery. But we succeeded because of him—not only out of gratitude, but out of fear of letting him down.
Years passed, and today, when we speak of him, we carry a respect we never carried for many others after him. He did not smile often—but he built our backbone.
That is the difference between the educator and the indulger: the first shapes you, the second soothes you. In our time, we confuse “criticism” with “hostility.” The one who points out the mistake is accused of being negative, pessimistic, discouraging.
But history is not written by flatterers. No renaissance was born from those who said “everything is fine,” but from those who dared to write on the wall: “Here lies the flaw.”
Educational criticism is not demolition—it is diagnosis. Not disdain—it is a search for cure. And if we all remain silent in the name of “positivity,” the nation will be left with nothing but echoes, a glass facade that cannot survive a storm.
So allow me to write with sharpness at times—for deep sleep is not awakened by whispers, but by shock.
What I write is not for your comfort, but for your future. Not for your eyes—but for your mind.
I do not write to discourage you. I write to awaken the human in you—before he sleeps forever, without even knowing it.
