When Our Children Learn, the Whole Village Earns

I had never attended a workshop like this before. When my elder daughter’s teacher told me that UNESCO and NAEM were arranging a session on education in Cox’s Bazar, I was not sure what to expect. But she said it would help parents understand why learning matters, so I decided to go. I took both my daughters; 15-year-old Tasmin, who studies in class nine, and little Kobra, who will start school next year. 

The room was bright and full of people. Teachers, parents, students, and government officers sat around tables covered with yellow papers and pens. On the big screen at the front, colourful graphs and charts appeared. I didn’t understand everything, but one line caught my heart, “If learning stops, the loss continues for generations.” The presenter said this came from a global study called The Price of Inaction Report 2024. He explained that many children in Bangladesh either leave school too early or complete it without learning basic skills. Because of that, the country could lose 17 percent of its national income by 2030. 

Seventeen percent sounded like a small number, but when he said it meant billions of dollars, I thought of my own family. My husband works at the land registration office in Cox’s Bazar. Some months are steady, others are not. I realised how fragile life can be when opportunities depend on education. 

The speaker also said that when a child stops learning, it affects everyone, not just one family. The government collects less tax, communities face higher risks of unemployment, and society suffers more problems like early marriage and crime. I had never imagined education that way. For me, it was always about grades, exams, and fees. But that day, I saw it differently as something that shapes a safer, stronger community. 

During group work, a teacher shared that many students lose interest in science because they cannot connect lessons to real life. Another parent said her son spends too much time helping at the family store instead of studying. Listening to them made me think of my daughters Tasmin, who dreams of becoming a doctor, and Kobra, who already pretends to “teach” her dolls at home. 

 When the facilitator asked if anyone wanted to speak, I stood up. My voice shook, but I said, “We always say we cannot afford school. Maybe we cannot afford not to send our children.” For a moment, the room was quiet, and then there was soft applause. I felt something change inside me. 

Later, a woman from UNESCO talked about how every year of schooling adds to a person’s confidence and future earnings. She said when parents understand this, they do not just send their children to school, they protect their dreams. I looked at my girls sitting next to me and thought, this is why I came here. 

When the workshop ended, people stood chatting in small circles. I did not want to leave. The charts and numbers I had seen were still running through my mind, but now they looked like faces, like my own daughters’ faces. 

Before we left, one of the organisers asked, “What message will you take home?” I smiled and said, “Today I learned that education isn’t far from our lives. it is our lives. When our children learn, the whole village earns.” 

Outside, the air smelled of sea salt. Tasmin looked up at me and said, “Ma, I will study harder from now on.” Kobra, still clutching her crayons, added, “And I’ll go to school like Apa.” I held both of them close. For the first time, I truly believed in their words and in mine.