The Poisoned Well: How Coercion Breeds a Hatred for Learning
You can force a student to the library, but you cannot force them to think. An investigation into how negative conditioning in schools poisons the water, turning the joy of discovery into a source of anxiety.
I. The Complicated Relationship:
I often hear parents complain, "My son hates Math," or "My daughter hates History." But when I sit down and talk to the students, I realise that "hate" is too simple a word.
They have developed a very complicated relationship with their books.
Children are not born hating knowledge. A child who spends hours mastering the complex rules of Cricket or the mechanics of a video game clearly has the capacity to learn. They have the hardware. So, why do they resist the textbook? The answer is uncomfortable: They don't hate the subject. They hate the pain associated with it.
We have accidentally engaged in a psychological process called Conditioning. In our system, every time a student opens a textbook, they feel pressure, fear of judgment, or the confusion of being lost. Over time, the brain connects the two. The Book = The Pain. Eventually, the student stops "touching the hot stove." They develop a deep, visceral aversion to the subject itself. They don't avoid the book because they are lazy; they avoid it because it hurts.
II. The Trap of the Double Bind:
This leads to the state of mind you see in every classroom: a constant state of psychological turmoil. A coerced student is trapped in a "Double Bind". It is a situation where every choice leads to suffering.
Consider a Class 8 student staring at a Math problem he doesn't understand.
Choice A (Rebellion): If he refuses to open the book, he faces the pain of punishment (scolding, parents called).
Choice B (Compliance): If he forces himself to look at the numbers, he faces the pain of feeling "stupid" and helpless.
There is no joy in Choice A, and there is no joy in Choice B. Living in this constant state of "Which pain should I choose today?" is exhausting.
This is why you see the "Blank Stare." The student is physically looking at the teacher, but their mind has fled the building. They are not daydreaming because they are bored; they are dissociating to protect themselves from the stress of the Double Bind.
III. The "Success" Trap (The Hollow Topper):
This is the most critical observation from my field studies. Even if the student manages to overcome this turmoil and "succeeds" (gets good marks), something is lost.
We celebrate the "Topper." But in many cases, the Topper is just the student who has found the most efficient way to avoid pain: Rote Memorisation.
I have seen students memorise entire paragraphs of History or steps of a Science experiment without understanding a single word. Why do they do this? Because "Understanding" is risky—you might get the logic wrong. But "Memorising" is safe—you just reproduce the text.
These students are not learning; they are performing a "Copy-Paste" operation. They scan the textbook, print it onto the exam paper, and then delete the file from their brain. This is a Hollow Victory. The parent sees 95% and thinks, "My child is a genius." I see 95% and thinks, "This child has learned how to mimic intelligence to survive the system."
IV. The Myth of the Lifelong Learner:
We often talk about preparing students to be "Lifelong Learners." It is the buzzword of modern education. But how can we expect them to be lifelong learners if we have conditioned them to hate the very process of learning?
If the only reason a student opens a book is fear of the exam, then the moment the fear is removed, the book stays closed forever.
By pairing "Education" with "Coercion," we have ensured that the moment the Board Exam is over, the student will never touch a Logic puzzle or a Literature book again. We haven't created a Scientist or a Scholar; we have created someone who views problem-solving as a trauma to be avoided.
We treat the student like a prisoner who dreams only of his release date. And you cannot teach a prisoner to love the prison. No matter how much time we give them—if they are forced to be there, they are not learning; they are serving a sentence.