The Potter Wasp and My 7-Year-Old

The last few days have been a bit turbulent. Our 7-year-old has been storming home from school, frustrated and irritated: “My teachers never let me answer anything. K, keep quiet, you can answer later - they say all the time but never let me answer!", "They use words like ‘idiot’, ‘good for nothing’, and ‘I’ll break your bones’” (not to him, but in general). “I got scolded for talking to my friend!", "I asked a teacher to teach me something, and she said I’ll learn it in higher classes. But why not now?” His rants tumble out between sighs and grunts.

Then he fell sick and missed two days of school. I got a call from the school: He better come soon—exams are on, and we don’t allow retakes. I was stunned. Isn’t the first response to a sick child supposed to be, “How is he doing?” But here we were. If basic courtesy was too much to expect, how could I possibly trust them with my child’s education?

All this—and more, much of which I can’t bring myself to write—has made me question everything I had once envisioned for his education.“You’ve taught him too much. That’s why school bores him,” says my mother. So what then? Shouldn’t I have answered his questions? Should I have held back, dimmed his curiosity, just so he could fit in? Were we wrong to expect better from a mainstream school? Is it just this school? These teachers? Or is the flaw deeper—in the system itself?

Thirty-plus children. Same age. Same room. Sit still. Don’t speak. Listen to one voice for 45 minutes. Eight periods. Two short breaks. Raise your hand to speak. To ask. To use the bathroom. Is this really normal? This doesn’t even align with a child’s development—it works against it. Children need to move. To speak freely. To question without fear. To listen to their bodies. And somehow, every child is expected to be good at math, English, science and sports. If they aren’t, they’re reprimanded. Graded. Compared. Punished.

So what do I do? What’s the solution? How do I protect my child’s love for learning? How do I stop the system from stifling it?

This morning, while cleaning the shoe rack, we found a wasp nest inside one of my shoes. We’d seen it hovering around our terrace for weeks. Carefully, we removed the mud nests. Tiny larvae fell out. With a heavy heart, we placed them gently on a leaf. My son covered them with a bit of mud: “They were in a mud house before. This might keep them cool.” he said. I thought they'd soon become food for some bird. But to our surprise, the mother wasp came—again and again—carrying each larva away. We don’t know where. Hopefully, somewhere safe.

Meanwhile, the questions poured in.“Why were you saying sorry to them? Isn’t it their fault for coming into our territory?”. When you answer such questions, you learn so much about yourself.

But my favourite part was when he lit up and said, “It’s a Potter wasp! They build nests out of mud. And the larvae are bright green! I’ll show you…” He dashed inside, fetched a book, flipped to the page, and read out loud everything he knew about Potter wasps. And showed me some pictures too!

All about potter wasps

The book from which we learnt about potter wasps - no, it is not a textbook!

Learning doesn’t have to happen inside four walls. It doesn’t need raised hands or perfect posture or gold stars. It happens everywhere. All the time. And many times, the child is the teacher and you are the student - learning a bit about potter wasps but more about yourself.

And my question however remains unanswered—How do I stop the system from hindering my child’s love for learning?