We knead our children into success—and send them into the world hollow. Minds are fermented under pressure, and spirits emerge without flavor. In our schools, a child is treated like dough: kneaded by a standardized curriculum, squeezed with mechanical assessments, and baked in the exam oven at a pre-set temperature. Then handed to the world as a “top loaf”—fragile in thought, empty of ambition, unaware of why they were made or how they’re meant to be consumed.
Is success merely conforming to a mold? Or is it being fired by the heat of passion and meaning? Do we want our children to be successful… or just ready to be produced by school?
A child once asked his mother: “Why is the sky blue?” Two years later, he asks: “How many points will I lose if I forget one word in the definition?” From asking about the universe… to worrying about grades. From the wonder of thought… to exam anxiety. From the love of learning… to the fear of mistakes!
A study published in Psychology of Education Review showed that 68% of high school students in the Gulf feel that school success doesn’t reflect their real abilities, and 59% say they’ve lost their passion for learning over time. Success has shifted—from conscious engagement… to mere numeric achievement.
We teach our children how to succeed—but not why. We teach them how to answer—but not how to question. We send them into school… and produce uniform copies—not unique individuals. Their success is designed to please us—not to express them. That’s why later, many excel at superficial presentation, hate failure, and fear the concept of an idea itself.
Many hesitate when asked a simple existential question: “What do you love to become?”
A generation of toppers… yet devoid of a first authentic idea of their own. They carry certificates like identical loaves of bread—matching molds, matching packaging—but with no taste.
Then we’re surprised when a top student collapses at the first real life challenge, or a hopeful child melts under self-doubt, or the achiever freezes when asked to make a real decision—and we ask in astonishment: “Why did they fall? Weren’t they supposed to succeed?”
We don’t prepare our children for success… we prepare them to accept someone else’s success. Safe, approved, repeatable success—but not one that belongs to them. A success that doesn’t come from within them—but is poured upon them from the outside.
We deny them the chance to self-combust. Not in the sense of destruction—but transformation! Every real maturity requires an internal fire—not a forced oven from outside.
So, you who shape the molds: ease your grip on the dough… and let it keep its humanity. Let our children bake their future in the warmth of their own choices—not the heat of your approval.
Here lies the paradox: the tighter the mold… the weaker the loaf. The narrower the path… the more the spirit gets lost. A human isn’t made through compulsion—but through discovery. And true excellence? It’s not canned—it’s fermented with meaning, freedom, and even the right to make mistakes.
