By | Education | 05-Sep-2025 15:58:17
Every morning in rural Bihar, Shivani drapes a crisp cotton saree and squeezes into a crowded bus to reach the private school where she teaches. Inside the classroom, she is “Madam” — admired, respected, and greeted with a cheerful chorus of “Good morning.”
But once the school bell falls silent, she returns to a reality stripped of
that respect: a woman who has taught for nearly a decade yet survives on just
₹8,000 a month, without a contract, pension, or health benefits.
“If I fall sick or lose this job,” she says
quietly, “there is nothing to fall back on.”
Shivani’s story mirrors that of millions of teachers across India. According to UNESCO’s State of Education Report for India, 42% of the country’s teachers lack formal contracts. In private schools, the picture is grimmer — 69% have no contracts, and the majority earn less than ₹10,000 a month. In rural areas, women teachers earn on average ₹8,212 — nearly 40% below the national mean.
The crisis is not confined to private schools. In Odisha, thousands of junior teachers are demanding regularisation of their jobs. For six years, they are kept on contract with limited rights, no career progression, and no access to benefits — their service seen as cheap labour rather than nation-building.
Teaching in India is a profession dominated by
women, particularly at the primary level. Yet the very gender that shapes
classrooms is also the one most vulnerable to exploitation.
·
Many women are paid “honorariums” instead of
formal salaries, keeping them outside the protection of labour laws.
·
Demands for better pay are often dismissed, with
teaching romanticised as a “noble calling.”
·
Women juggle unpaid domestic responsibilities
with underpaid teaching hours.
·
During the pandemic, some private schools
slashed salaries by up to 65%, leaving women dependent on spouses or forced to
take up night tuition.
One teacher in Uttar Pradesh described her
double life: “I spend mornings teaching alphabets and evenings
stitching clothes for neighbours. My students think I am respected. They don’t
know I earn less than the man who sells them ice-cream outside the school.”
For many, the pain goes beyond low pay.
Teachers like Sunita in Haryana confess that while students hand them roses and
cards on Teachers’ Day, their minds are on unpaid bills, bus fares, and their
own children’s school fees.
What was once a safe and respected profession for women has become a trap — stable only in appearance, while insecurity defines its core.
Private schools collect lakhs in annual fees,
yet by some estimates spend as little as 2% of that on teachers’ salaries.
India celebrates its knowledge economy, but the women who carry classrooms on
their shoulders remain invisible, underpaid, and expendable.
This anger is spilling onto the streets. In Odisha and Mizoram, teachers boycotted Teachers’ Day celebrations in protest against unpaid salaries and exploitative conditions. Yet for women like Shivani, protest is not an option — losing a job could mean losing survival itself.
Teachers’ Day in India has long been about
roses, speeches, and handmade cards. But symbolism cannot pay rent or buy
groceries. What educators need is structural change:
·
Enforceable contracts for all teachers.
·
Minimum salary benchmarks across both public and
private schools.
·
Social security and health benefits, especially
for women who form the backbone of the teaching workforce.
This Teachers’ Day, India owes its educators more than applause. It owes them dignity, security, and fair pay.