Privilege is when you think something isn’t a problem because it does not affect you. The silence in the auditorium when these words were spoken during the morning assembly remains one of my most rewarding experiences as an educator. That day, I felt an undeniable alignment with my purpose as a teacher and human being. It all began with a single question one morning: What do you understand by the word’ privilege’? The responses did not surprise me. Many equated privilege with success; some saw it as something earned and, therefore, valuable. I followed up with another question: What is success, for that matter? “To have all that you want—financial stability, power, respect, and peace,” came the responses, brimming with ambition shaped by the world they had known. And then, they were shown a different world—videos of children growing up in war-torn regions. What would success mean for them?
Their answers changed. Peace. Food and basic survival. Safety. A home, even if it’s just a single room without luxuries. The larger question emerged: How have we failed to see this alternate reality? Privilege was the answer—the fact that wars, hunger, and displacement did not affect us directly. And in that moment of realisation, the silence that filled the room was not one of dismissal but of reflection. My students had grasped a fundamental truth: their idea of success was subjective—one shaped by privilege. Success, in its truest form, is futile if it does not work towards uplifting those who are underprivileged. This is precisely what the Jaipurian ethos means to me. We strive to nurture students who are prepared to lead with empathy, kindness, and integrity. Success is not about donning a power suit as the CEO of a company; it is about wielding influence with ethics and a strong moral compass. The ethos of Jaipuria is also about perspective-building. It establishes that education is an acquisition of knowledge and developing informed, compassionate, and morally sound perspectives. One of the most profound manifestations of the Jaipurian ethos is our morning assemblies. A tradition initiated by our principal, Ms. Poonam Kochitty, these assemblies embody one of the most democratic practices in our school. Students and teachers engage with ideas that challenge their preconceptions every morning, invite discourse, and encourage introspection. Certain beliefs are reinforced while others are dismantled—but what remains constant is the process of knowing life a little more. This, I believe, is the very essence of education.
Jaipuria’s vision is not limited to academic excellence; it is about shaping students who are healers and lovers of their planet. As an educator, this ethos has profoundly shaped my ideology. It has reaffirmed my belief that learning should not be confined to the idea of objective certitudes and that right angles and congruence theorems might fail to come to grips with the abstractions of life. Education, like life, cannot thrive on absolutes. It must equip students to navigate the greys of life—to question, empathise, and act. And in that lies the true essence of the Jaipurian ethos.
Gurpreet
TGT English