(The forthcoming book: From the Principal’s Desk – A Journey of Lessons)
Dr Arun Prakash
I must have been in grade III or IV in my village school—a small, wiry boy, short in height but, somehow, the darling of the class. Some of my classmates were giants compared to me—four or five years older and towering in size. They treated me like their little mascot. Whenever we went out of school, they’d lift me onto their shoulders, worried that my tiny legs couldn’t keep up. Even years later, up to my graduation days, no one ever sat on a bicycle with me. Instead, they’d grab my cycle, pedal away, and insist I sit behind like a royal guest!
One chilly winter evening, our teacher, Mr. Jagbandhan Lal Ji, decided to show us something extraordinary. It wasn’t a magic trick with a hat or a rabbit—it was the magic of mathematics.
“Give me any five-digit number,” he announced, “and I will predict the total of five numbers you will write.” His confidence intrigued us. How could he possibly know the total before we even started? Eager to test him, I called out, “54321!” He smiled, took a moment, and declared, “The total will be 254319.”
Our eyes widened in disbelief. How could this be? He then guided us through the process, one step at a time:
- First, we gave: 54321
- Then, we gave another number: 23564
- Sir wrote down his number: 76435
- We gave a third number: 65432
- He added another of his: 34567
When we added them all together, the total was indeed 254319, just as he had predicted. We were amazed! It felt like magic.
“How did you do it, Sir? Please tell us the trick!” we begged, desperate to know. But he just smiled and said, “Not so fast. I will tell you the secret, but only if you earn it. Meet me after school.”
The suspense was unbearable. As soon as the last bell rang, we rushed to him, buzzing with curiosity. But he wasn’t going to make it easy. “I’ll share the trick,” he said, “but only with the person who pushes my bicycle the farthest.”
And so, the challenge began. Everyone grabbed hold of the cycle, eager to prove themselves. At first, it was chaos—a crowd of boys jostling for a chance to push it. Slowly, the excitement wore off. One by one, my classmates dropped out. Some got tired, others lost interest. Eventually, it was just me. My legs were shaking, my lungs were burning, but I kept going. Finally, when I thought I couldn’t take another step, Jagbandhan Lal Ji stopped me.
“You’ve earned it,” he said, his voice warm with approval. Then, finally, he revealed the secret.
“The trick,” he explained, “is in the way I chose my numbers. Look carefully. When you gave the second number, I wrote the third in such a way that their sum would always be 99999. For example, when you gave 23564, I wrote 76435—notice how each digit adds up to 9 (2+7, 3+6, 5+4, etc.). Similarly, when you gave the fourth number, 65432, I wrote the fifth number, 34567, to make their sum 99999 as well.”
“So, in total,” he continued, “the second and third numbers added to 99999, and the fourth and fifth numbers added to 99999. That’s a total of 199998. All I did,” he explained, “was subtract 2 from your original number and add a 2 to the left of it. That’s it. By doing that, I added 199998 to your original number.”
I was floored. It was so simple, yet so ingenious! It wasn’t magic at all—just clever mathematics.
Still catching my breath, I asked him, “But Sir, why didn’t you just tell us the trick? Why make me push your bicycle all this way?” He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said something I’ll never forget: “Because I wanted to see who had the greatest desire to know.”
Years later, I stumbled upon the story of Socrates, which struck a chord with that experience. A young man once approached Socrates and said, “O wise one, I wish to gain knowledge. Will you teach me?” Socrates, ever unconventional, led the young man to a river. Without warning, he plunged the boy’s head underwater, holding him there until he was flailing for air. Then, he pulled him out.
Gasping for air, the young man looked at Socrates in shock and demanded, “What are you doing? Are you trying to kill me?”
“When you were under the water, what did you desire most?” Socrates asked.
“Air! I wanted air!” the young man gasped.
“When you desire knowledge as much as you desired air,” Socrates said, “then you will truly be ready to learn.”
The message, then and now, is as clear as sunlight cutting through a foggy morning. A true seeker of knowledge must possess an unrelenting hunger for it. Knowledge isn’t for the passive; it’s for the ones who push bicycles farther than anyone else would dare. True curiosity and a burning desire to know—those are the keys to real learning.
It was 1831, and Charles Darwin—a curious young man who had already disappointed his family by dropping out of medical school—was presented with an unusual opportunity. He was invited to join HMS Beagle on a voyage around the world. The job? To act as a naturalist and study plants, animals, and geology along the journey.
Now, here’s the twist: Darwin wasn’t the “rugged explorer” type. He got seasick. Often. And his father thought the entire idea was absurd—a waste of time. To top it off, the ship’s captain, Robert FitzRoy, wasn’t entirely thrilled with Darwin either. Why? Because he thought Darwin’s nose (yes, his nose) indicated a weak character. Imagine your career being judged by the shape of your face! Yet, against all odds, Darwin decided to adapt to this situation and set sail.
As the Beagle zigzagged across oceans and continents, Darwin was thrown into completely unfamiliar environments: the thick jungles of South America, the towering Andes mountains, and the harsh deserts of Argentina. At first, it was overwhelming. He wasn’t trained for this kind of hands-on exploration. His books, theories, and observations couldn’t prepare him for the unpredictable challenges of the wild.
But Darwin was a master of one critical virtue: adaptability. He learned to study animals in their natural habitats, endure difficult climates, and collect thousands of samples, even while battling physical discomfort and occasional homesickness.
One of his biggest moments of insight came in the Galápagos Islands. Here, Darwin noticed something peculiar about the finches. On each island, the birds had slightly different beaks, adapted to the food available—some long and slender, others short and sturdy. He realized that adaptability wasn’t just a personal skill; it was a rule of life itself. The species that could adapt to their environment thrived, while those that couldn’t, didn’t survive.
Darwin later distilled this into his famous idea: “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most adaptable to change.”
Now, let’s fast forward to his personal life. Darwin’s adaptability wasn’t limited to science—it showed in his character. Despite being ridiculed and criticized when he published On the Origin of Species, he calmly addressed his critics and continued refining his ideas. He didn’t view challenges as obstacles but as opportunities to grow and evolve.
Here’s the lesson: Adaptability is more than just surviving—it’s about thriving in the face of uncertainty. Darwin didn’t set out to change the world, but by staying flexible, curious, and open to the unexpected, he did just that. Whether you’re a young naturalist on a ship or a student navigating today’s fast-paced world, adaptability is your greatest tool. The world will throw storms at you, and like Darwin on the Beagle, you might even get seasick. But if you learn to adjust your sails, you’ll always find your way forward.
Curiosity and adaptability—these are the twin engines that drive success in life. Curiosity ignites the desire to explore, to ask questions, and to seek answers with relentless determination. Adaptability, on the other hand, equips us to navigate the challenges and uncertainties that inevitably arise on the journey. Together, they form a powerful combination: the hunger to know and the resilience to evolve.
As we’ve seen through the stories of Mr. Jagbandhan Lal Ji, Socrates, and Darwin, those who achieve greatness are not necessarily the strongest or the smartest—they are the ones who remain curious and adapt to change. It is this unyielding curiosity and flexible mindset that allow us to push the limits of what we think is possible.
Curiosity and adaptability—these are the twin engines that drive success in life. Curiosity ignites the desire to explore, to ask questions, and to seek answers with relentless determination. Adaptability, on the other hand, equips us to navigate the challenges and uncertainties that inevitably arise on the journey. Together, they form a powerful combination: the hunger to know and the resilience to evolve.
As we’ve seen through the stories of Mr. Jagbandhan Lal Ji, Socrates, Darwin, and others, those who achieve greatness are not necessarily the strongest or the smartest—they are the ones who remain curious and adapt to change. The question, then, is: how do we cultivate these traits in our children?
Let’s begin with a simple yet powerful idea: children need an environment where their curiosity feels safe and celebrated. I remember reading about Albert Einstein, who once said, “The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.” As a child, Einstein would bombard his parents and teachers with endless questions—questions that may have seemed trivial but were the seeds of his genius. What if his parents had silenced him or discouraged his inquiries? The world might have been very different. Whether at home or in the classroom, we can create spaces where children feel encouraged to ask, “Why?” or “How?” rather than fearing judgment or impatience.
Imagine turning the dinner table into a “Question Hour,” where everyone, including adults, asks one question they’ve been curious about. Or picture a classroom with a “Wonder Wall” where students can pin their curiosities for group exploration. When children see that their questions matter, they start seeing the world as a puzzle waiting to be solved.
But it doesn’t stop there. To foster curiosity, we must lead by example. Sir Ken Robinson’s famous TED Talk, “Do Schools Kill Creativity?”, recounts the story of Gillian Lynne, the choreographer behind Cats and Phantom of the Opera. As a child, Gillian struggled in school, fidgeting constantly, until a teacher noticed her love for movement. Instead of scolding her, he suggested dance classes. That small act of recognition helped her channel her energy and creativity into something extraordinary. Robinson’s story reminds us that when adults model lifelong learning—exploring new hobbies, reading widely, and pursuing their passions—it inspires children to see learning as a journey rather than a task.
This ties directly to another critical lesson: adaptability thrives in the face of challenges. Think of Thomas Edison, who famously said, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” Edison’s story isn’t just about perseverance—it’s about the willingness to approach problems creatively, try different solutions, and embrace failure as part of the process. Whether it’s allowing children to build something with random household items or giving them a real-world challenge like organizing their room efficiently, open-ended tasks let them experiment, fail, and refine their ideas. It teaches them that life rarely goes according to Plan A, and that’s perfectly fine.
However, for children to embrace challenges, they need to see that their effort matters more than the outcome. Carol Dweck’s research on the “growth mindset” offers a valuable lesson here. She found that children praised for their effort rather than their intelligence are more likely to embrace challenges and persist through setbacks. A simple shift in how we talk to children can make a huge difference. Instead of asking, “What grade did you get?”, we can ask, “What did you learn from this?” Similarly, teachers can reward creativity or persistence in problem-solving rather than just the correct answer. When we celebrate the process, we teach children to value growth over perfection.
Curiosity also blossoms when children are exposed to diverse experiences. Take Malala Yousafzai, for example. Growing up in Pakistan’s Swat Valley, where girls’ education was often restricted, Malala could have accepted societal norms. Instead, her exposure to the wider world fuelled her curiosity and adaptability, driving her to become a global advocate for education. Even small exposures—visiting museums, attending cultural events, or exploring cuisines from different parts of the world—can spark a child’s imagination. These experiences teach them that the world is vast, complex, and full of possibilities.
Another overlooked but essential ingredient in nurturing curiosity and adaptability is play. Play allows children to experiment, take risks, and learn without fear of failure. Sir Ken Robinson recounts a delightful story of a little girl in an art class. When asked what she was drawing, she replied, “A picture of God.” Her teacher laughed and said, “But no one knows what God looks like.” The girl confidently responded, “They will in a minute.” This kind of bold creativity, Robinson argues, is what we must preserve in children, rather than stifling it with rigid rules. Whether it’s giving them paints, building blocks, or even just cardboard boxes, letting children engage in unstructured play unlocks their creative potential.
Of course, adaptability often requires resilience, and resilience grows from hearing stories of others who’ve faced and overcome adversity. J.K. Rowling, for instance, was rejected by 12 publishers before Harry Potter found its home. Imagine if she had stopped after the fifth rejection—or even the eleventh. Sharing such stories with children shows them that struggle, and failure are not the end but stepping stones to success. Creating a “Resilience Story Hour,” where parents or teachers share biographies or moments from their own lives, can inspire children to persevere through challenges.
Lastly, let’s not underestimate the power of asking the right questions. Instead of quizzing children with questions that have one correct answer, why not pose open-ended ones that spark their imagination? Questions like, “What do you think would happen if plants could talk?” or “How would you design a school for astronauts?” invite them to think creatively and explore multiple possibilities. Bedtime, car rides, or even mealtime can become opportunities for “What if?” conversations, where curiosity and adaptability naturally take root.
To nurture curiosity and adaptability, we need to value creativity over conformity and exploration over perfection. As Sir Ken Robinson so eloquently put it, “If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.” In a world changing faster than ever, the children who thrive will be those who ask why and embrace the unknown.
Parents and teachers, let’s guide them not with rigid rules but with open hearts and endless encouragement. Let’s nurture the explorers, the questioners, and the resilient problem-solvers of tomorrow.
Next: Technology and Traditional Values: Striking a Balance