By Dr. Mushtaq Rather

A mother juggles two jobs in Anantnag just to pay her daughter's school fees.

She laughs nervously as she recalls the day she had to borrow money for some textbooks that cost five thousand rupees.“It felt like I was already failing before my child even stepped into the classroom,” she says.

She is not alone. Most middle-class families in Kashmir struggle to keep up with private school costs that seem to rise every year.

Private schools here have changed drastically.

A decade ago, respected educators ran small institutions focused on teaching and character-building. Today, investors dominate, bringing modern infrastructure, international curricula, and a promise of world-class learning.

Parents want the best for their children, and on the surface, these schools deliver. Digital labs, air-conditioned classrooms, and sprawling campuses suggest progress.

The reality, however, is more complicated.

Access depends heavily on wealth. Children from disadvantaged families, those with disabilities, or from marginalized communities often get left out.

The National Education Policy of 2020 emphasizes inclusion, but in most private schools, inclusion remains aspirational.

Families know the law, Section 12(1)(c) of the Right to Education Act reserves 25 percent of first-grade seats for socio-economically disadvantaged children, but steering the system is difficult, and reserved seats are often hard to secure.

Fees alone create barriers.

Monthly tuition in city and peri-urban schools hovers around ten thousand rupees. Annual charges add another ten to twenty thousand. Families even pay for winter transport when children don't use the buses.

In Srinagar and nearby towns, many parents spend over one lakh rupees a year per child. Every rupee carries sacrifices: delayed medical care, postponed repairs at home, and skipped groceries.

Textbooks reveal another issue.

Parents are led to believe that NCERT textbooks, low-cost and thoughtfully designed, cannot compete with expensive private or international publications. Schools insist on pricey books, even when teachers lack the training to use them effectively.

Educationists Waasil Farooq and Fazal Elahi explain that private publications are not the problem. The problem is how teachers implement them.

Hands-on projects and critical thinking exercises often give way to finishing exercises at the end of chapters.

One parent recalled that her primary class son carries fourteen books and notebooks every day. The weight violates the National School Bag Policy of 2020, which limits bag weight to 10 percent of a child's body weight.

Heavy backpacks can lead to posture problems, but schools ignore the guidelines.

Parents also notice how classroom practices differ from the promises of elite curricula.

In some schools, children memorize answers rather than explore concepts. In others, teachers rush to finish chapters while children struggle to grasp the material.

Wealthy families can hire tutors to fill the gaps, but less affluent families cannot. In effect, schools reward privilege rather than nurture potential.

Social media in Kashmir is full of these stories.

Parents share screenshots of receipts, complain about hidden fees, and debate textbook choices. They call for stronger government oversight. Capitation fees may have declined, but schools find other ways to maximize revenue, often at families' expense.

Private schools now operate at the intersection of privilege and profit. Modern infrastructure and international curricula provide real benefits, but only for those who can pay.

The system undermines equity. Education, which should be a ladder to opportunity, has become a gate only wealth can open.

Officials, educators, and communities face a simple question: Can private schools deliver quality education while remaining inclusive and affordable?

Families in Kashmir already live with the consequences.

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