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.
Thank you sir. A former educator who served as teacher, warden, and vice principal has nicely reflected Bhutan boarding school life. I guarantee that hostel life has changed drastically these days compared past. Besides that changes are in place to cater to emotional and social wellbeing of children in the boarding. As mentioned in your reflection only issue is resource constraint. [Pema Tshering via Facebook]
ReplyDeleteThank you for your thoughtful comment. I am glad that boarding school life has changed and that greater attention is now being given to the emotional and social wellbeing of children. That is reassuring to hear.
DeleteAs someone who experienced boarding school myself and reflected on those experiences in this piece, I recognize that many of the challenges I described belong to a different time. While the reflection draws on personal memories, it is encouraging to know that positive changes have been made and continue to be made for children in boarding schools today.
I agree that resource constraints remain an ongoing challenge. At the same time, it is heartening to see efforts to create more supportive, responsive, and child-centered boarding environments.
sir you have beautifully put down your experiences and dreams forward. I second that motion. Like your kind self I too shared the same journey as yours but for a brief moment as a teacher. I feel everything we see now is doable back home but should come in with a tons of effort from the parents and the system.
ReplyDeleteI have a pre-schooler and a wife working in early-childhood and I am kind of aware of the situations here. The support children receive here and the resources they have around to excel themselves but what about back home? In most of the hostel settings it was just a warden and a matron catering the needs of almost 100 plus students. Let’s not forget the classroom setting where a single teacher is mandated to cater the needs of a minimum 20 plus students, besides progressive assessments and the term end examination. How could these things have been done better in our setting which is still developing with many parents who are still illiterate and yes, those children who are with their aging grandparents. [Tandin Tshering Dorji via Facebook]
You raise a very important point. I agree that while we can admire many of the practices and supports available in countries like Australia, simply replicating them in Bhutan is not straightforward. Our contexts are very different.
DeleteAs someone who has experienced both systems, I believe the issue is not that Bhutanese educators or wardens cared less, but that they were often expected to do far more with far fewer resources. As you mentioned, a warden and matron looking after over a hundred children, and teachers managing large classes while balancing assessments and administrative responsibilities, leaves little room for the individualized support that children need.
At the same time, I think there are lessons we can learn that do not necessarily require large budgets. Stronger partnerships with parents, greater awareness of children's social and emotional needs, more play and experiential learning opportunities, and policies that place children's wellbeing at the school can all make a difference. Change may be gradual, but every step towards a more child-centred approach is worthwhile.
Your point about children being raised by grandparents and parents with limited literacy is also important. Any reform must take into account the realities of Bhutanese families and communities rather than simply importing ideas from elsewhere.
Thank you for sharing your perspective. It reminds us that improving children's experiences is a shared responsibility between families, educators, communities, and the system itself.