The Forgotten Purpose of Education
By: Dr Aftab jan
Once upon a time, education was a means of character-building, a sacred pursuit to understand the world, oneself, and the Creator. Today, education has lost its soul. It has become a commercial hub, a factory of degrees and competition, a race to nowhere.
We wake our children before the sun rises, push them into coaching centres, schools, and tuitions like soldiers in a battle they never chose to fight. We give them tiffin boxes and hopes that they will become doctors, engineers, IAS officers—our pride, our honor.
But in this journey, somewhere, the essence is lost. We never ask if they are kind, if they help their neighbours, if they feel anything when a poor child sleeps hungry across the street. Instead of values, we’ve given them pressure. Instead of compassion, we’ve taught them ambition. This is not education.
The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, “I have only been sent to perfect good character” (Bukhari). Yet today, we have children with straight A’s and dead hearts—unable to greet elders with respect, unable to offer a glass of water to their mother, unable to weep at another’s pain. Is this the success we envisioned? Is this the outcome of our modern education?
We build massive schools with tinted windows and English signs but cannot teach the child inside that arrogance destroys the soul. Our educated youth today mock their own parents, find them out dated, hand them over to old-age homes when they grow tired of their responsibilities.
But this is the same mother who left warm food in the pot just so her child could eat first, the same father who walked barefoot to save money for his child’s shoes. What kind of education allows such betrayal? The Qur’an says, “And lower to them the wing of humility out of mercy and say, ‘My Lord, have mercy upon them as they brought me up [when I was] small’” (Surah Al-Isra, 17:24). But we, the so-called educated, have become blind and deaf to these divine commands.
A society that disrespects parents, neglects neighbours, and celebrates degrees more than decency is already dead from within. Swami Vivekananda once replied to a man who asked why he didn’t wear good clothes: “In your culture, the tailor makes a gentleman; in our culture, character does.” This reply stings more today, for we have become obsessed with image.
What we wear, what car we drive, which brand we use—all these determine our worth in today’s society. Children grow up thinking that happiness lies in iPhones, foreign trips, and branded shoes. But they don’t know how to sit silently and reflect, how to pray with a weeping heart, how to spend a night without Wi-Fi. They do not know the pain of another soul because we never taught them. We taught them to be successful, not good.
We told them to win, not to care. And then we wonder why society is crumbling. Today, a child can explain quantum physics but not sit beside a grieving friend and offer sincere words. They can crack JEE, NEET, and IAS, but cannot greet a janitor with respect.
Is this what the Prophet ﷺ taught us? No. He taught us that the best among you are those who are best to others. He taught us that even a smile is charity. But our education system has stripped away such lessons and replaced them with rankings, entrance exams, and salary packages. Even schools are no longer centers of learning but centres of business—uniform shops, transport contracts, donation fees, and marketing tactics. The poorer the parent, the heavier the burden, and the child becomes a commodity. Where are the values of empathy, humility, and servitude? We have sent them out with the dust of blackboards that no longer echo truth.
Millions of parents stand outside school gates every morning, not knowing they are sending their children into an ocean where they may lose their souls. These children may become CEOs but will forget the warmth of human connection. A generation that never sits with its grandparents, never asks about the struggles of their fathers, never lifts the burden off a laborer’s head. We are producing educated zombies—mechanical, competitive, and cold. What did the Prophet ﷺ teach us about being human? He cried with the poor, ate with the orphans, and stood with the oppressed. When a woman who used to throw garbage on him fell ill, he visited her.
Today, we teach our children to cross the road if they see a beggar. Are we not ashamed? The Prophet ﷺ said, “He is not one of us who does not show mercy to our young and respect to our elders.” (Tirmidhi). But this mercy is missing. Parents are proud their children study abroad, but forget to ask if they still pray.
We have confused literacy with education. A person who speaks English fluently, holds a degree from a reputed university, but cannot wipe his mother’s tears or carry his father’s medicine, is not educated. A person who cannot ask his neighbour, “Have you eaten today?” is not educated.
A person who abuses his wife, insults his maid, mocks the poor—is not educated. Education is not what you wear on your body, but what you carry in your soul. Education is not the certificate on your wall, but the way you treat the waiter at a restaurant.
We have taught our children how to earn crores but not how to live. We have taught them how to argue but not how to apologise. We taught them how to compete but not how to forgive. What kind of education is this? Our schools must teach love. Our homes must preach compassion. Our mosques must revive values. And we as adults must practice what we wish to see in our children. Otherwise, the child we raise may become powerful, but never peaceful. They will know how to fly rockets, but not how to sit with a crying sibling. They will know everything, but understand nothing. That is the curse of our modern system.
When will we realise that education is not just learning, but becoming? Our schools need not be palaces, but sanctuaries. Our teachers need not be experts, but examples. The best lesson is not on the blackboard but in how we treat people. Remember, Mother Teresa had no classroom, but she taught the world compassion. She had no chalk, but her silence healed hearts. That is education. So let us not confuse success with goodness.
Let us not call a selfish man educated just because he owns a company. Let us not admire a cruel achiever and ignore a kind failure. Education is to make you human. And if your education has taken away your humanity, then you are worse than illiterate. It’s time to rewrite the aims and objectives of education—not in policy papers, but in our lives, in our homes, in our hearts. Only then can we hope to see a generation that not only builds skyscrapers, but also raises their hands for dua. A generation that not only earns in dollars, but also gives in zakat. A generation that knows that true success lies not in being known by the world, but in being loved by Allah.
