2 weeks Ago By Aima Khan
Thousands of children in Punjab lack classrooms, while the government focuses on policing dress codes in schools. This distracted priority, where education reforms take a backseat to superficial control, demands scrutiny over the administration’s commitment to meaningful education reform. By imposing bans on jeans, makeup, and specific attire, the government prioritises surface-level fixes over tackling deep-seated issues like inadequate infrastructure, poor delivery, and lower literacy rates, which limit access to quality education, particularly in rural areas.
Ultimately, this theatrical show of morality does little to hide the systemic rot that continues to fester beneath the surface of Pakistan’s education sector. Pakistan’s educational reforms have long been undermined by empty promises with drafted plans then quietly shelved. Back in 2009, the National Education Policy was set with ambitious goals — universal education, better funding, gender inclusion, and a modern curriculum.
But like many things in our system, these goals appeared fancy, only on paper. And after 15 years, the ambitions just hang in there; unachieved. Literacy rates remain stagnant, public schools still lack basic amenities, and the gap between policy and practice has only widened.
Anti-polio campaign set for April 21-25 We are still stuck at asking the same questions: ‘Who gets to learn?’, ‘Where do they learn?’ , and ‘In what language do we learn?’ For thousands of children, especially those in rural and low-income areas, the answers are disheartening. Access to school depends not just on geography, but on gender and mainly on income. For many girls, the lack of secure and nearby schools becomes a lifelong barrier.
For boys in remote areas, a single underpaid teacher for five grade levels is the only chance at education. Meanwhile, policymakers remain fixated on how students dress rather than whether they can read, write, or think critically. The most basic yet most overlooked element of education is infrastructure.
Thousands of government schools in Punjab lack electricity, clean drinking water, and functioning toilets. Some don’t even have proper roofs. Students sit on cracked floors, scribble on broken desks, and try to absorb knowledge from teachers who, despite their dedication, have received little to no training for years.
In rural areas, the nearest school may be hours away — a journey that’s both unsafe and impractical for many. Girls, in particular, are forced to drop out, not due to a lack of desire to study, but because their safety, dignity, and access are constantly compromised. Steps being taken to make Vehari clean, green The numbers speak louder than any government press release.
According to UNICEF, nearly 22.8 million children in Pakistan are out of school — with Punjab carrying a major chunk of that burden, lagging behind in equity and access, but provinces like Sindh and Balochistan also bear the brunt. Chronic underfunding, weak policies, and uneven implementation across the districts fuel the crisis.
Bridging the gap between policies and practice requires concrete action: significantly increased funding for education, training of qualified teachers, investment in infrastructure, and efforts to dismantle social barriers such as poverty, gender, and social inequality, particularly in remote areas. These are not just luxuries but necessities. Millions of children are being denied their basic right to education while the government stays busy debating the dress code .
Nevertheless, curriculum reform remains painfully stagnant — marred by ideological bias and outdated content. Our textbooks continue to serve political narratives rather than educational ones, even as the world moves towards critical thinking, digital literacy, and problem-solving. The confusion over the medium of instruction — constantly swinging between English, Urdu, and regional languages — has left both teachers and students in a linguistic limbo.
Children are expected to master subjects in languages they barely understand, while teachers, often underqualified or unequipped, struggle to bridge the gap. Instead of uniting young minds under a coherent, inclusive curriculum, we’ve trapped them in a maze of contradictions where rote memorisation is still mistaken for learning. DPO secures healthcare welfare initiative for cops The pandemic exposed the harsh reality of Pakistan’s digital divide.
One would think the government would seize the opportunity to invest in online learning infrastructure. Instead, they seemed nowhere to be found, abandoning public schools to fend for themselves. While private schools upgraded to smart classrooms, the kids in public schools struggled without devices, internet, or support and were left disconnected from education until things slowly improved for some.
For many, their education simply came to a halt when schools shut down – and never picked up again. These are the conversations we should be having. Not about whether a student wore jeans to class or whether a female teacher put on winged eyeliner.
These moral diversions serve only to deflect from the government’s own failures. It’s easier to police women’s wardrobes than to fix broken schools and systems. It’s more convenient to block X (formerly Twitter) than to confront criticism.
It’s easier to pick up the WhatsApp group administrator for derogatory posts than to address the real issues plaguing our education system. It’s simpler to hand over schools than to build them back better. One dacoit killed, four escape after police encounter Children deserve better.
They deserve leaders who focus on what truly matters: textbooks, quality education, skilled teachers, and safe learning environments. Not dress codes, social media scrutiny, or stifling free speech. They deserve functioning classrooms, not just functioning rules! True reforms take place when we shift our focus from superficial fixes to meaningful reforms.
When we stop policing appearances and start investing in futures. When education becomes a genuine promise – a promise that every child, regardless of background, deserves the chance to learn, grow, and thrive. Until then, all the talk of “discipline” and “decency” is just noise; loud enough to silence dissent but never loud enough to fix what’s broken.
Aima Khan The writer is an educationist and a freelance journalist. Twitter: @aimaimrankhan Exam Chaos Tags: dress code.
