By: Dr. Muhammad Imran, Department of Education, PMAS-ARID agriculture university Rawalpindi
In the upscale cafes of Pakistan’s metropolitan hubs, if you ask a group of vibrant youngsters about their career aspirations, the air is filled with ambitious buzzwords: “Software Engineering,” “Data Science,” “Foreign Service,” or “Tech Startup.” Amidst these dozens of dreams, the mention of becoming a ‘teacher’ is conspicuously absent. A profound question arises: why has a profession once revered as ‘prophetic’ and placed on the highest pedestal become the absolute last resort for our youth?
What is the visual representation of a teacher in Pakistan today? It is often an old motorcycle, a tattered register in hand, and eyes heavy with the burden of domestic inflation. Unfortunately, we have transformed the teacher from a ‘stature of dignity’ into a ‘character of pity.’
When a young graduate witnesses their mentor struggling in the heat during election duties, administering polio drops door-to-door, or wandering streets for census data, their idealism shatters. They realize that after years of rigorous academic struggle, the reward is not intellectual leadership but administrative drudgery. Naturally, they pivot toward becoming ’empowered’ officers rather than ‘under-resourced’ educators.
In the wake of Pakistan’s current economic crisis, teaching has become financially untenable. In the public sector, the salary of a Grade 16 or 17 officer is dwarfed by that of a junior manager in a modest private firm. The private education sector is even more alarming; dominated by an ‘education mafia,’ it exploits the youth by offering pittance in exchange for grueling labor. When a PhD scholar is offered a meager twenty or thirty thousand rupees, they find more dignity in manual labor abroad than in a classroom at home.
The new generation is a product of the digital age—they are creators and innovators. Yet, our educational infrastructure remains shackled to a 19th-century colonial model. Teachers are suffocated by non-teaching duties, endless SOP compliance, and redundant paperwork. The youth do not want to be ‘clerks’ in classrooms; they want to be catalysts for change. However, our rigid system offers no room for such creative autonomy.
To attract the brightest minds back to our classrooms, we must move beyond rhetoric and implement structural reforms.The government must introduce a dedicated ‘Teacher Pay Scale’ that surpasses the general bureaucracy. Additionally, a ‘Teacher Card’ should provide educators with subsidized healthcare, travel (PIA, Railways), and utility discounts, ensuring they hold a distinguished financial status in society.Much like the PMDC for doctors or the Bar Council for lawyers, Pakistan needs a “National Teaching Council.” Teaching must be a licensed profession. A mandatory professional license will bar irrelevant entrants and elevate the seriousness of the vocation.Classrooms must be modernized. When a teacher is equipped with laptops, tablets, and digital tools, the tech-savvy generation will naturally gravitate toward the field. We must transition from ‘chalk and duster’ to ‘coding and creativity.’Stringent labor laws must be enforced on private schools to ensure a dignified minimum wage (at least PKR 50,000 or above) and job security.
We must acknowledge a hard truth: as long as a teacher enters a classroom worried about their child’s school fees or the monthly rent, they cannot cultivate an enlightened generation. The youth are ready to teach, provided we return the profession to its lost glory—where the teacher is seen not as an ‘underprivileged employee’ but as a ‘National Leader.’
Pakistan’s future lie within the walls of an assembly or a corporate office; it is hidden within the chalk and pen held by a teacher.
