- Parents should begin discovering their children’s abilities from Form One instead of imposing predetermined career dreams.
- Constant comparison and unrealistic academic expectations can turn education from an opportunity for growth into fear.
- Hillary Muhalya argues that high expectations should be accompanied by understanding, support and respect for individual abilities.
There is a quiet crisis unfolding in many Kenyan homes and schools—one that may never appear in an examination report, a school register or an official education statistic.
It is the crisis of children who are constantly being told they are not good enough.
The marks come home.
The parent looks at them.
The comparisons begin.
“Why did your friend get an A?”
“Why are you always getting a B?”
“We are paying all these school fees for this?”
“You must improve next time.”
Sometimes the words are spoken out of love. Sometimes they are driven by genuine concern about the child’s future. But when repeated relentlessly, they can transform education from an opportunity for growth into a source of fear.
And by Term Three, when examinations are approaching and academic pressure is already at its highest, that accumulated pressure can become overwhelming.
This is why Kenya must have a more honest conversation about parental expectations.
Parents should not wait until Form Four to discover that their child has different abilities, interests, talents and learning needs. They should begin understanding the child from Form One.
A child’s secondary-school journey should be a period of discovery—not four years of being forced to fulfil an adult’s predetermined dream.
The child who was expected to be a doctor
Consider the experience of a Form Three learner we can call Brian.
From the beginning of secondary school, his family had decided that he would become a doctor.
There was only one problem.
Brian was struggling with the sciences.
He could spend hours trying to understand concepts that another learner absorbed relatively quickly. His grades remained modest despite considerable effort.
But at home, his performance was interpreted as a lack of seriousness.
“Doctors do not get these marks,” he was repeatedly told.
Brian became increasingly anxious whenever examination results were released.
Instead of looking forward to learning, he began fearing the conversation that would follow every report.
Meanwhile, teachers had noticed something else.
Brian was exceptionally good with computers. He could dismantle, understand and troubleshoot devices. He enjoyed practical tasks and demonstrated impressive problem-solving skills.
Perhaps his future was not medicine.
Perhaps his future was technology.
The tragedy would not have been that Brian failed to become a doctor.
The tragedy would have been forcing him to spend his entire secondary education believing that his genuine strengths were worthless because they did not fit the career his parents had selected.
This is the danger of unrealistic expectations.
Consider another illustrative case—Amina, a Form Two learner.
Her academic results were average.
Her parents were worried.
They saw other children performing better and began asking why Amina could not do the same.
But her teachers had noticed something her report card did not capture.
She was an exceptional communicator.
She organised classmates naturally. She could stand before a group and explain ideas confidently. She showed remarkable creativity in school activities and had a strong interest in entrepreneurship.
Her parents initially regarded these qualities as secondary to examination performance.
But those qualities were not insignificant.
They were capabilities.
They were potential.
And they deserved to be developed.
This is precisely why parents must understand that a child is larger than a grade.
The first year of secondary school is not merely another academic level.
It is a critical period of transition.
A learner is moving into a more demanding environment, encountering new subjects, different teachers, new friendships and greater independence.
It is the perfect time for parents to begin asking deeper questions.
What does my child enjoy?
What subjects come naturally?
Where does the child struggle?
Does the child learn better through reading, discussion, practical work, experimentation or demonstration?
What does the teacher observe?
What happens when the child fails?
Does the learner recover and try again, or become overwhelmed?
Does the child demonstrate abilities outside conventional academics?
These questions are more useful than simply asking for the position the child attained in class.
A Form One examination should be treated as feedback, not a verdict.
A low mark should initiate investigation, support and adjustment—not immediately trigger condemnation.
High expectations are good—unrealistic expectations are not
Perhaps one of the greatest enemies of healthy learning is comparison.
A child is told that a neighbour’s daughter scored higher.
Another is compared with an older sibling.
Another is reminded that the parents’ friend’s child has already been admitted to a prestigious university.
Eventually, the learner begins to believe that education is a race against everyone else.
But children do not begin from identical positions.
They have different abilities, personalities, backgrounds, interests, learning speeds and challenges.
Two children can sit in the same classroom, listen to the same teacher and use the same textbook and still produce completely different results.
That is not necessarily evidence that one is intelligent and the other is not.
It may simply mean they are different learners.
The question therefore should not be:
“Why can’t you be like that child?”
It should be:
“What can you do exceptionally well, and how can we help you develop it?”
That is a much more constructive question.
By Term Three, academic pressure can become particularly intense.
Learners are tired.
Teachers are racing against time.
Candidates are thinking about examinations.
Parents are thinking about grades.
Schools are thinking about results.
And the child can end up standing at the centre of all these expectations.
For some learners, this produces examination anxiety.
For others, it produces sleeplessness, withdrawal, irritability, loss of confidence or fear of failure.
Some become afraid to take risks because every mistake feels like evidence that they are disappointing everyone.
Others begin hiding poor results rather than seeking help.
The danger is that adults may misinterpret emotional distress as indiscipline.
A withdrawn child may be labelled lazy.
An anxious child may be called unserious.
A struggling learner may be accused of deliberately refusing to work.
Yet behind the behaviour may be a child who is simply overwhelmed.
Parents should not be told to lower their expectations.
Children need standards.
They need discipline.
They need encouragement to work hard.
They need to understand that success requires persistence.
But expectations must be realistic, informed and accompanied by support.
There is a profound difference between:
“I expect you to give your best.”
And:
“You must get an A, regardless of everything else.”
The first encourages effort.
The second can turn a grade into a measure of personal worth.
A parent should be able to say:
“I know this subject is difficult for you. Let us find out how we can help.”
Instead of:
“After everything we have done for you, how can you get such marks?”
The first statement opens a door.
The second may close one.
Parents and teachers must discover the child
Parents should also recognise the importance of teachers.
A teacher may notice that a learner who performs poorly in written examinations becomes outstanding during practical activities.
Another may notice that a quiet learner has exceptional analytical ability.
Another may discover that a child who struggles academically is exceptionally talented in sport, music, art, technology or leadership.
That information matters.
Parent-teacher meetings should therefore go beyond:
“What position is my child?”
They should include:
“What are my child’s strengths?”
“What areas require support?”
“How does my child interact with others?”
“Has the learner’s behaviour changed?”
“What learning strategies seem to work?”
“What potential do you see?”
Those conversations can help parents make better decisions about subject choices, career guidance and additional support.
There is another uncomfortable issue that must be addressed.
Some adults still believe that humiliation produces academic excellence.
It does not reliably do so.
Publicly shaming a learner for poor marks may make the child fear failure, but fear is not the same as learning.
A child who is constantly told, “You are useless,” may eventually begin behaving as though the statement is true.
Discipline should correct behaviour without destroying dignity.
A learner should be made to understand:
“Your current performance is not good enough, but you can improve.”
Not:
“You are not good enough.”
The distinction could shape an entire life.
When school becomes demanding, home should not become a second examination centre.
Parents should provide a place where children can breathe.
They should encourage healthy sleep, proper nutrition, reasonable study schedules and moments of recreation.
A learner cannot spend every waking hour revising and still be expected to remain emotionally fresh.
Rest is not laziness.
Recreation is not necessarily wasted time.
Emotional stability is part of learning.
Children also need to be heard.
Parents sometimes make decisions about their children’s futures without ever asking the children what they want.
A learner may have a completely different vision of the future.
That does not mean every childhood ambition should automatically become a career decision.
But it deserves to be heard.
A child who says, “I enjoy building things,” may be revealing an important strength.
A child who says, “I love helping people,” may be revealing another.
A child who says, “I understand things better when I practise them,” may be explaining how they learn best.
Listening is not surrendering parental authority.
It is gathering information.
And informed parenting is better parenting.
Education must move beyond the report card
Kenya’s education conversation must become broader.
We cannot continue measuring children almost exclusively through examination performance and then wonder why some learners develop intense anxiety around school.
Marks matter.
Examinations matter.
Academic achievement matters.
But so do creativity, communication, resilience, practical competence, problem-solving, collaboration, leadership, innovation and character.
The learner who does not become a doctor may become an outstanding engineer.
The learner who does not become an engineer may become an exceptional teacher.
The learner who does not excel in conventional academics may become an entrepreneur, artisan, technologist, farmer, artist, athlete or innovator.
There is no single road to a meaningful life.
Parents have every right to dream for their children.
But they must also allow their children to reveal themselves.
The parent should provide direction without dictating destiny.
Challenge without humiliating.
Correct without crushing.
Expect excellence without demanding perfection.
And, above all, discover ability before demanding achievement.
That process should begin in Form One.
By observing a learner over time, consulting teachers, paying attention to interests, recognising weaknesses and nurturing strengths, parents can help children choose pathways that are both ambitious and realistic.
This does not mean accepting mediocrity.
It means pursuing excellence intelligently.
As schools enter the demanding final stretch of the academic year, parents and teachers should remember that behind every examination number is a human being.
Some learners are confident.
Others are frightened.
Some are excelling.
Others are struggling quietly.
Some know exactly where they are going.
Others are still trying to discover themselves.
They all deserve support.
The ultimate question should therefore not be:
“How do we force this child to become what we want?”
It should be:
“How do we help this child become the best version of what they are capable of becoming?”
That is the difference between education and pressure.
A parent who understands a child’s abilities from Form One is not lowering the bar.
They are positioning the child to jump over the right bar.
And perhaps that is the message Kenya needs most as Term Three unfolds:
Children need ambitious parents—but they also need parents who understand them.
They need teachers who demand effort—but also recognise difference.
They need schools that pursue results—but never forget the human being behind the result.
READ ALSO: Mr Principal, your best teacher didn’t resign overnight—you just noticed too late
Because an examination can measure what a child answered on a particular day.
It cannot measure the full potential of the child.
By Hillary Muhalya
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