Children in the boardroom : Why Observing Children Might Make You Better at Business

The adult-child relationship begins on an unequal footing—blame it on the size. Adults tower over children, both physically and metaphorically. The default mode, even in the most well-meaning of grown-ups, is to look down—sometimes literally, but more often figuratively. Add to that a generous dose of cultural conditioning, and you have a cocktail of assumptions: that adults know better, that some truths are only grasped with age, that children should listen, not speak.

To be fair, these arguments aren’t entirely without merit. Age does bring perspective. But what I’ve learned through countless observations and conversations, particularly in the course of my research with everyday people, is that the world is rarely ever black or white. It's layered, complex, and textured with nuance. The same applies to the adult-child dynamic. Over time, this relationship, if unchecked, can become overly skewed, polarising to a point where children feel invisible, their voices muffled under the weight of adult authority. And that height gap can obscure something magical: the clarity, creativity, and wisdom children carry in their hearts.

Which is why Vobble’s initiative to create a 'Kid Board of Directors' caught my attention. A brand that targets kids actively invites them into the decision-making process. Intriguing, to say the least.

The first session took place yesterday. The co-founders, Neha Sharma and Sowmya Jagannath, introduced a group of children to the idea of a startup and what it means to solve a real-world problem. And what followed was a reminder of just how perceptive, imaginative, and emotionally intelligent children can be.

One child envisioned a car that could expand or retract—a dream solution to Bangalore’s legendary traffic snarls. Another pitched the idea of a kid’s credit card, with parents able to monitor expenses via an app—cleverly addressing the tiring negotiation ritual that precedes every small purchase. A third spoke passionately about the rising screen time in babies, proposing a ‘co-working-baby-explore zone’ that would let parents work while their toddlers explored a screen-free world.

From frustrations with piano lessons to dreams of a turbo-charged version of Minecraft, each idea reflected not only a unique problem but also a slice of the child’s lived reality. These weren’t whimsical, disconnected fantasies. These were practical, emotionally grounded solutions stemming from observation, empathy, and lived experience. And like all good ideas, the feeling one is left with is, “Now why didn’t we think of that earlier?”

The experience was equally revealing for the adults in the room. Watching children walk confidently into the boardroom, take their seats, and engage with the startup lingo was both heartening and humbling. The children quickly realised that adults, too, are just playing roles—sometimes pretending to be more serious and responsible than they actually are. Toys on desks and candies in drawers told their own story.

Neha and Sowmya guided the children through the basics of building a startup, thinking not just about the problem and solution but also about monetisation, information dissemination, and target audiences. All of this was done in a spirit of fun, with no pressure, and plenty of encouragement.

These moments at the cross-section of childhood and adulthood are deeply meaningful. They offer children a chance to step into the adult world—not as imitators but as equal stakeholders. At the same time, they allow adults to reconnect with the playfulness and clarity of their own inner child. The benefits, in my opinion, are mutual and healing.

Over the next few weeks, these young board members will test Vobble’s product, interact with it, and share their thoughts—likely with more candour than any adult focus group could ever offer. When I saw them at the office, even the six-year-olds moved about with a quiet confidence. Ironically, it was the adults who seemed just a little anxious, bracing themselves for a flood of probing questions.

And why not? Deep down, I think children know their own strength. It’s what helps them survive and even thrive in a world built by and for adults.

Stay tuned for more updates, including conversations with the kid board members and the founders themselves.

This experience offers a powerful reminder to all of us, especially those building products, programs, or policies for children: include them at the table. Not as a formality, but as insightful collaborators with lived experiences that matter. If your work touches young lives, let their voices lead, not as an afterthought, but from the start.

The Silent Crisis in Schools: A Qualitative Insight into How Adults Shape Childhood




Schools are meant to be spaces of learning, growth, and care. Yet, far too often, they become places where authority overshadows empathy, and discipline takes precedence over respect for children's dignity. Through my research, I have encountered numerous instances that reveal the stark contrast between how educators present their role and how they actually interact with students.

Story 1: The Principal’s Projection Versus Reality

During a visit to a school where we were testing an educational product, I interacted with the principal and teachers, who spoke passionately about nurturing students. The principal was so soft-spoken that I had to ask her multiple times to speak louder since I could barely hear her sitting literally one-foot away from me. 

Later that afternoon, when I met with the students, I asked one of them to guide me to the washroom. Knowing that the guest washroom was accessible through the staffroom, he led me in that direction. As soon as we entered, the principal and teachers yelled at the child for stepping into the staffroom without permission—without even noticing I was right behind him. The very same people who had spoken about nurturing children had, in an instant, reduced this student to a rule-breaker, unworthy of even a moment of inquiry.

Story 2: What you see is not what you get

Typically, when conducting research in schools, we are given isolated spaces to conduct interviews, far removed from the daily workings of the institution. However, on one occasion, I was seated in a room surrounded by classrooms, allowing me to observe the school environment firsthand.

As I walked in, the scent of incense and an oil lamp at the entrance suggested an effort to create a positive atmosphere. But over the next four hours, this initial impression crumbled. I heard teachers yelling at students. I saw them patrolling the corridors with sticks, treating them as essential tools rather than disciplinary exceptions.

The most heartbreaking moment came when I saw a child sitting quietly in his classroom, eating his tiffin while completing his work. He was not disturbing anyone, yet a teacher stormed in and scolded him for simply being there. In a space where joy should have been fostered, it was being tested at every turn. And yet, children continued to laugh and play—not because of their environment, but despite it.

Story 3: A Mother’s Fight for Dignity

Amidst these unsettling observations, I found hope in a story shared by a mother whose child suffered from epilepsy. His medication made him groggy, and on one occasion, he was slow to take out his book when instructed by a new teacher. Frustrated, she flung his notebook away.

When he shared this with his mother, she went to school the next day to speak with the teacher. The teacher, defensive and dismissive, retorted, Who are you to question me in my classroom? The mother stood her ground: I am the ultimate authority on my child. He is a child with a medical condition—you are a fully functioning adult - what is your excuse for your behaviour?

She escalated the issue to the principal, who, to their credit, investigated the complaint and found that the teacher had been routinely harsh with students. The school took action and asked her to step down. But how many principals would have the objectivity and courage to take such a stance?

Story 4: The Child Who Asked Too Many Questions

I happened to talk to a girl, around 8 or 9 years old, who was walking in a corridor when a teacher yelled at her out of the blue. "I have been hearing that you have not been behaving yourself in class—getting impatient and troubling all the teachers with too many questions."

I asked the child what her response was. She said, "I just shyly smiled at the teacher and kept quiet since I did not want to enrage her even more. I really wanted to ask her how her pet was doing, since on another occasion, she had mentioned it was ill. Maybe I'll ask her tomorrow."

Children are that forgiving. But should we take their forgiving and loving nature for granted?

The Larger Issue: A Culture of Fear and Compliance

These stories reflect a systemic issue. Parents, even when aware of mistreatment, hesitate to speak up, fearing that their child will face retaliation. Discussions in parenting groups are filled with concerns about school authorities, and for many, the only recourse is to change schools. Unlike earlier times, when children would spend a decade in one institution, it is now common for them to switch schools multiple times due to an unsupportive environment. Though they leave the comfort zone of familiar friendships, I would still consider these children lucky as opposed to those who do not find neither their family nor school adults understanding what they go through. Student suicide rates, children running away from schools and homes are on the rise. Every time an email about a missing student circulates on WhatsApp groups - it sends shivers down the spine of parents who fear, ‘what if this child could be my own’. In a few days or weeks the incident is overshadowed by some other. 

While much is being discussed about educational reforms, emotional well-being remains a blind spot. Schools, institutions created for children's welfare, often fail them the most. Principals defend teachers, citing a shortage of good educators, and refrain from addressing emotionally unregulated behaviour among staff. Adults who work as teachers sometimes do not even realise the numerous ways they violate the dignity of a child with just their words. When a parent yells at a child, he / she often feels guilt and remorse since the loss of connection with their own children is palpable. This leads some parents to reflect and question their own behaviour and make amends. But what incentive do teachers have to even feel this guilt or remorse with the numerous children they encounter everyday. Once the connection is lost, the system is quick to label the child. Distracted, Disengaged, Disrespectful - we have fancier labels today ADHD, Hyperactive, lacking intent to learn. All the last 12 years of talking to children - I have yet to come across a child who did not have the ‘intent to learn’ and yet adults label them so casually and almost justifying their diagnosis of the child.  

SEL: A Buzzword Without Practice

Social-emotional learning (SEL) has become a trendy concept in education. Schools proudly include it in their vision statements, but the reality is often the opposite of what they claim. Instead of being actively practiced by adults, SEL is merely preached to children. The very educators responsible for fostering emotional intelligence often struggle to exhibit it themselves. 

A Call for Reflection

Every interaction between an adult and a child holds the potential to uplift or diminish. Are children being heard, or merely controlled? When authority is exercised, is it done with care, or simply out of habit? Do adults recognise the impact of their words and actions, or do they wield their power without reflection? Perhaps the real test of a school's culture is not in what it claims but in how children feel about their teachers while they are within its walls. Do they feel safe, respected, and valued? Or are they simply learning to navigate a world where authority must never be questioned?

For every adult who feels justified in violating the spirit of a child in an attempt to ‘correct’ their behaviour, I want to ask - what’s your excuse? 


#ChildRights #EducationReform #SilentCrisis #RespectChildren #MentalHealthInSchools #LearningAndDevelopment #EdLeadership #SocialImpact #EducationalEquity #qualitativeresearch #qualitativeresearchindia

AI & Childhood Thinking: What Qualitative Research Tells Us About Learning in the Age of Machines



“Mama, can we get an Alexa?” Yes, it’s 2025, and we’re still living without Alexa—or any of its competing devices.
“Why do you need Alexa?” I asked.
“So that when I’m reading, I can ask Alexa for words I don’t know.”
“What do you do now when you don’t know the meanings of words?”
“I try to figure out the meaning through the context.”
“That’s called 'inferring'.”
“Can you imagine what would happen when we get Alexa at home? I’d stop inferring.”
“How does inferring help you?”
“I can guess the meanings of so many new words, even when I first encounter them.”
“Yes, and if you start asking Alexa, your brain won’t be doing that anymore. Alexa is just 'searching' and dispensing information.”

Can you imagine what AI could do with its generative capacity when children as young as six or seven are exposed to it? ChatGPT is everyone's favorite new tool these days—whether it’s the 40-something homemaker looking for a quick parenting tip, the busy executive too rushed to write their own emails, or the student typing, “Give me 5 real-world examples of Newton’s 1st Law of Motion.”
Last week, I was introduced to two new concepts: "cognitive offloading" and "cognitive hygiene." If we continue to offload more and more of our thinking to ChatGPT or similar platforms, we must start considering how we will balance the cognitive depletion that comes with it.

Before we rush to expose children to these tools in the name of responsible digital access, let’s not forget the story of the young man who couldn’t finish his sentences in a job interview. When asked what was wrong, he sheepishly admitted that he was used to ChatGPT doing it for him.

While AI has great potential, it's important to use it thoughtfully. I’ve seen AI tools effectively bridge learning gaps, like language apps that map sounds to letters. It’s the purposeful use of AI that holds promise, rather than unfettered, access that could inadvertently diminish the very cognitive skills we seek to enhance. 

Gendered Play in Indian Childhoods: A Qualitative Lens on Culture and Code

I was at the park today, chatting with a mom when she shared a moment that stuck with me. She told me about watching a group of little boys in action—a common game, one boy shouting, “Fight!” and just like that, the others went at it. She laughed and mused about her own son, K, and how when he gets older, she won’t stop him if he wants to join in those games. “Boys need to learn how to fight,” she said. “It’s the only way they’ll survive in this world.”


But then, she went further. She talked about how we raise girls to "hang out with the right people," to surround themselves with kids from “nice homes with nice values.” It hit me—she was equating survival with fitting into these rigid, gendered roles. Boys fight, girls stay safe, and both need these skills to thrive.
I didn’t tell her anything. I have realised over the years that such beliefs are more about conditioning than about how educated or not a person is. As a generation, we grew up surrounded by such narratives all around us in popular culture. 

I left that conversation with this thought —what if we flipped the script, just for one generation? 

Maybe it’s time to rethink what it truly means to grow up in today’s world. 

And while I looked for an image to add to this post, I only found images with men dressed as women and vice versa and there in lies another reason for why one has to think of this subject in a more nuanced way. Rethinking stereotypes is not merely changing costumes but thinking of how men can balance the yang and women their yin energy.