ARE TUITIONS THE NEW CHILDHOOD? OBSERVING LIFE BETWEEN SCHOOL AND HOME

Once upon a time, childhood stretched between home and playgrounds, between school bells and long, unmeasured afternoons. Today, it often stretches between school and tuitions — that curious space where learning continues, but play quietly disappears.

In cities and towns across South Asia, it’s a common sight: schoolbags slung over drooping shoulders, children moving from one classroom to another, not to rest, but to study again — this time in someone’s spare room, coaching centre, or a tutor’s living room. The line between “school” and “after-school” is increasingly thin, and in that blur, something essential is being lost.

Tuitions — once considered remedial, optional, even luxurious — have now become a norm, an expectation, almost a requirement. They are no longer for those struggling to keep up, but for those trying to stay ahead. The race is real, and so are the anxieties.

But here’s the quiet question no one asks: when do children get to just be children?

Between school in the morning and tuition in the evening, the hours left for play, curiosity, boredom — even simple silence — are shrinking. Childhood, once a wide open field, now feels like a narrow corridor of obligations.

And yet, tuitions aren’t only about academics. They’ve become a third space — not quite school, not quite home. In many cases, they offer companionship, routine, and attention that classrooms and busy households can’t always provide. Some students feel safer in tuition groups than in noisy schools or strict homes. For others, it’s a chance to learn at their own pace, away from rigid systems.

So it’s not about demonizing tuition. It’s about noticing how structural pressures have reshaped what we call childhood. The pressure to perform, to compete, to stay relevant — all of it now begins at an age where imagination and play once held priority.

We must ask: what kind of future are we preparing children for if their present is so burdened with performance? What happens when the joy of learning becomes just another checklist?

Somewhere in the rush between school and tuition, between math worksheets and mock exams, we must make room for unstructured time. For sitting on the floor, for drawing nonsense, for walking without purpose, for questions that don’t have marks attached to them.

Because childhood should be more than a schedule. It should be a space.