Too young for a costly race

John J Kennedy writes about the dilemma of spending lakhs of rupees on the education of a three-year-old

School admissions have begun at many institutions, while in some ‘progressive’ elite schools, the process may already be complete. Amid this frenzy, the sad plight of parents and their little ones deserves attention. Across India’s cities and rapidly growing towns, a child’s first step into education has become one of the most stressful experiences for parents and families.

Nursery admissions, meant for children barely three years old, now resemble an obstacle race marked by uncertainty, competition, and exorbitantly rising costs. Expectation of a smooth introduction to childhood learning has become an exhausting test of emotional resilience and financial capability. From the metropolises and the numerous Tier-2 towns, parents describe the process in strikingly similar terms. They say rules appear clear but confusing in practice. 

Of course, schools publish admission criteria, make forms available online, and even announce timelines, but the uncertainty and unpredictability of the outcomes make parents anxious. So, many families often apply to multiple schools, track deadlines obsessively, calculate distances and eligibility points, and rely as much on luck as on planning.

It's also true that parents approach nursery admissions with various expectations. Some prioritise safety and care; others, perhaps, values or discipline. Almost everyone seeks early exposure to English, social interaction, or an environment where their child will “fit in”. Schools, on the other hand, operate within a dense web of regulations, court directives, parental demands, and, above all, competitive pressures. Consequently, we have a system that seems transparent, at least on paper, but parents are worried.

Cost of education

Additionally, the rising cost of nursery education is a grave concern. Annual fees run into tens of thousands of rupees. When transport, uniforms, books, activities, and various “optional” charges are added, the total cost over two or three years can stretch into several lakhs. For middle-class families already coping with housing costs, healthcare, and daily living expenses, this is a severe burden.

Of course, school managements justify these fees by pointing to rising operational costs: land prices, infrastructure, safety requirements, teacher salaries, compliance norms, and technology. Valid arguments. Quality education requires trained teachers. Safe spaces are mandatory. And these need resources. However, the flip side is that nursery education is viewed by many school managements as very lucrative. Hence, branding, air-conditioned classrooms, glossy campuses, and promises of “international” exposure are aggressively marketed to anxious parents, turning early education into a high-stakes consumer choice.

All this raises uncomfortable questions: does it make sense to spend lakhs of rupees on the education of a three-year-old? At what point does providing a service slip into exploiting parental insecurity? When early schooling begins to resemble a corporate product rather than a developmental space, the line between care and commerce obviously blurs.

Silent propagation of inequality

In this sordid saga, do not overlook how the admissions process quietly reinforces inequality. Parents with digital access and English-language proficiency can navigate easily. But those in the informal sector, migrants, and first-generation learners feel overwhelmed, as they see the entire process as intimidating and exclusionary. No doubt the system rewards cultural and social capital. Knowing how criteria are interpreted, which documents matter, or which schools to prioritise becomes an invisible advantage. Sadly, access to education begins not with learning, but with the ability to manage complexity.

Hence, the emotional toll many parents experience is considerable. Some parents apply to multiple schools, anticipating rejections. Sadly, for the parents and the child, anxiety sets in even before schooling starts. For both, what should have been an exciting moment becomes, unfortunately, a prolonged period of stress.

Let us not forget that the children at the centre of this process are toddlers. Yet they are taken to multiple school visits, exposed to adult anxiety and, at times, subtle forms of evaluation. Even in the absence of formal testing, the atmosphere of competition seeps in.

Nursery education, we must acknowledge, occupies a particularly sensitive space because it deals with very young children and deeply held parental hopes. Against this backdrop, the larger question therefore becomes unavoidable: is early schooling still a public service shaped by care and development, or has it become a marketplace driven by fear and aspiration?

Ironically, multiple regulations alone have not resolved this tension. Rules are frequently changed; criteria are often revised by governmental agencies, and even the courts intervene at times. However, parental anxiety always remains constant. Why? Perhaps we need to understand that the issue is not just procedural but also conceptual.

If all the stakeholders approach nursery education as a shared, child-centric space and discard the notions of race and competition, there could be some relief for parents. Until that happens, schooling will begin with stress and spending, certainly not learning.

(The author is a former professor and former dean of a university in Bengaluru)