The case study of education in Nagaland: A personal reflection

“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire”
~William Butler Yeats
In Nagaland, education has become a convention, a garment, and a badge of honour. It is not a journey of learning anymore, it is a competition. Here, education decides who is “High Class,” “Talented,” and who is “Useless,” or a “Shame,” all based on grades and certificates.
I have spent nearly sixteen years, and counting, within this system. To my tragedy, I must admit, I haven’t truly learned much, except perhaps that “A is for Apple.” What I really learned was how to score good marks, how to choose a good science stream, how to win medals and scholarships, so society would visit my house with gifts, envelopes, and endless compliments like, “Well done,” and “God bless.” And if I fail to achieve, we don’t call pastor or church members to pray. Instead, we hide our failure in shame.
Yes, it’s partly my fault that I didn’t learn more meaningful things during all those years. But if you ask me today about major historical wars or famines that took millions of lives, I might not be able to answer. If you ask me about English literature, about stories where protagonist kill their enemies. I might not even remember the chapter name. Because in this system, learning happens for a specific time frame, just long enough to pass the exam. Once the exam is over, the facts vanish. And I say, with confidence: it is not my fault alone. To deny this would be to deny humanity.
It breaks my heart when I see this system persisting in Nagaland, a place I call home. I was once a child who wrote in my diary :
 “I want to become a footballer”
 Then, “An army officer”
 Then, “ A Teacher”
 Then, “A writer”
 Then, “Someone who wants to live far away, where the branches are near and the smell of sunset taste like memories”
Today, if you ask me what I want to be, I’d say, “Assistant professor” not because my soul leans that way, but because that is what my degrees point to. I’ve seen Phd aspirant, when asked the same question, they’ll shyly say, “Professor,” or sometimes something even more profound, “Writer,” “poet,” “Journalist.”
But were they not once a children too, saying, “I want to be a doctor,” “I want to be a scientist or an engineer” to random guests who visited their house? Why then this hesitation today? Is it because they betrayed themselves? Or is it because reality hit them hard? Or is it because the system shaped them to meet society’s stereotypical expectations? The questions arises:
 Are you really living for yourself?
 Or have you compromised your dreams because someone told you that you were wrong?
I have seen enough aspirants and students stressing over competitive exams, memorizing endless dates, facts, events, worrying whether they will come in the question paper. If not, all their sleepless nights, their highlighted notes, will be in vain. This type of education. This type of “Success.” It feels absurd. It feels like an assault, an abuse of what education is supposed to be.
I do not blame the students. I blame the system that exists in Nagaland where education is no longer a path to learning, but merely a tool to get a stable job, to place food on the table, and eventually retire. And the cycle goes on. In Nagaland, we don’t learn through education anymore. Education has become a tool for boasting, a garment to show off, a badge to decide who gets first and who gets last.
When I sit alone and hold a book and read freely, it feels a hundred times more productive than attending a classroom just memorizing facts to score marks. So, before you judge me, or write articles against what I say, ask yourself honestly:
 Are you truly learning through education in Nagaland?
 Are you following your passion, or are you living for a society that tells you what you must do?
Believe me when I say this : If survival was my only goal, I’d rather become a beggar and fill my stomach, than let someone decide my dreams and passion.
That is the tragic case of education in Nagaland today. And unless we dare to question it, we will continue to raise children not to dream _ but only to survive.
Weching T Nekong
M.A 4th semester,
Department of English
Nagaland University Kohima campus.