For generations, boarding schools in Bhutan played an important role in giving children access to education, especially those from remote villages. Many students walked for hours, sometimes days, to reach schools that became their second homes. Boarding schools helped build literacy, opportunity, and the modern Bhutanese state itself. But behind the achievements and success stories, there were also silent struggles.
This reflection is deeply personal for me because I was also a boarding student from grades 7 to 10. Later, I spent 13 years working in the Bhutanese education system as a teacher and Vice Principal. I experienced boarding school life from both sides, first as a student, then as an educator.
As students, many of us accepted hardship as normal. Homesickness was normal. Emotional loneliness was normal. Strict inspections were normal. Public scolding was normal. Fear of punishment was normal.
In many boarding schools, students lived highly controlled lives shaped by bells, routines, rules, and academic pressure. Obedience was often valued more than emotional wellbeing. Students learned to suppress emotions because vulnerability was sometimes mistaken for weakness.
And in many schools, corporal punishment was simply part of the culture. Caning, slapping, humiliation, standing outside classrooms, cutting students’ hair, and public punishments were often seen as discipline rather than harm. Even today, discussions about corporal punishment continue within Bhutanese communities and online forums. Some former students openly describe how fear shaped their school experience, while others still defend strict punishment as necessary for maintaining order.
Looking back now, I realize many educators, including myself, genuinely believed we were doing the right thing. We wanted students to succeed. We wanted discipline, respect, and academic excellence.
But experience changes perspective. After living and working in Australia, especially in early childhood education, I began to see children differently. I saw education systems placing more emphasis on wellbeing, emotional safety, play, inclusion, and relationships.
At first, this culture felt strange to me. It even felt too soft. But over time, I started noticing something important. Children who felt emotionally safe often became more confident learners. Students responded better to guidance than fear. Respect built through trust lasted longer than respect built through punishment. Research globally now strongly links corporal punishment with anxiety, low self-esteem, emotional distress, and behavioral problems.
Even in Bhutan, debates around child protection and corporal punishment have become more visible over the years. Bhutanese leaders and laws have increasingly questioned harsh punishment practices in schools.
Looking back at boarding schools now, I feel many students needed more than discipline and academic pressure. They needed joy. They needed emotional support. They needed time to play, laugh, explore hobbies, make memories, and simply experience growing up. Many boarding students were separated from their families during their most important developmental years. For them, school was not just a place of learning. It was their whole world.
I wish there had been more focus on pastoral care, mental wellbeing, creativity, sports, storytelling, arts, life skills, and genuine human connection. I also wish teachers had been given more support and time to reflect, collaborate, and understand child development beyond academic performance.
This is not about blaming teachers or schools of the past. Many educators worked under difficult conditions with limited resources and enormous responsibility. Boarding schools also gave countless Bhutanese children opportunities they may never otherwise have received.
But acknowledging the value of the system should not stop us from reflecting on its shortcomings.
Some former boarding students became resilient because of those experiences. But resilience should not have to come through fear, emotional suppression, or pain alone.
Today, if I could begin again, both as a former boarding student and as an educator, I would try to create schools where children are not only academically successful, but also emotionally healthy, confident, creative, and genuinely happy.
Because children do not only need education. They also need childhood.
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