During my field experience with the Fulbright Teachers for Global Classrooms program, I set out to learn how happiness is cultivated through education in India. Before boarding the plane, I reminded myself not to get “comfortable sitting in one story”—to be attentive to the many, sometimes‑contradictory truths that shape any place (see pre‑departure reflection post). Indeed, happiness, whether in India or elsewhere in the world, can’t be understood through a single narrative. It’s shaped by a mosaic of practices, relationships, and histories. Given our short two-week window, my field reports offer only ethnographic snapshots—partial and filtered through my own cultural lens. With that in mind, I’ve organized this reflection around the guiding questions I began with. What follows is an attempt to capture multiple stories, observations, and moments into brief responses, while acknowledging that many questions remain.
Students lead assembly at Sarvodaya Vidyalaya.
A suggestion box on campus solicits student input.
Photo of student artwork by Jamie.
What teaching methods, practices, or policies do educators and schools use to support student happiness and well-being in India?
Across diverse school settings (government-sponsored, government, and private), I saw examples of happiness being cultivated through intentional, holistic approaches rooted in student agency, creativity, social-emotional learning (SEL), and culturally responsive pedagogy.
Many schools we visited provide their students with opportunities to lead. At Sarvodaya Vidyalaya, for example, students lead morning assemblies and take on the role of “Student Ambassadors.” Students at Sanskriti lead extracurricular clubs, and older students have the opportunity to take on mentorship roles in bringing up younger students. At BJV, the girls’ agency is cultivated through an entrepreneurship program that equips them with the necessary skills to market and sell their arts and crafts.
These leadership opportunities also spill into efforts to incorporate student creativity into the design of their learning spaces. At BJV, student-created alpona floor paintings and artwork beautify the hallways and rooms of the school building. At Sarvodaya Vidyalaya, the Stress Buster room was entirely student-designed and decorated. Movement toward more student voice and creativity is also evident in policy. The National Education Policy (NEP) 2020, for example, has softened rigid curriculum requirements, now allowing grade 11 and 12 students to study any subject in any stream (if they are Commerce stream students, for example, they can now also elect to take classes in the humanities).
A strong commitment to holism and social-emotional learning (SEL) was also evident at different scales, from individual schools to state policy. Sarvodaya Vidyalaya’s Heartfulness Lounge encourages meditation, mindfulness, and emotional regulation. At BJV, Headmistress Sharmila is careful to ensure that girls are equally exposed to and trained in the arts (visual, dance, music) in response to a societal focus on STEM education. The small school also prioritizes relationships, with one faculty member noting students get both “studies and love” from th school.
Heartfulness Lounge, photo by Gayatri.
Student artwork at BJV.
Alpona example at BJV.
On a broader policy scale, Delhi’s Happiness and Science of Living curricula encourage mindfulness, gratitude, self-reflection, and emotional awareness. They have been designed with the understanding that happiness and well-being are not “add-ons,” and must be woven into the culture of education. In Kolkata, Dr. Ganguly, President of the West Bengal Board of Secondary Education, described the state’s current initiative to strengthen SEL as a way “to ground us from abstraction to reality. To understand students’ experiences.” (These lines don’t do justice to the many interesting cultural and political elements of these curricula. I would love to return to dig in deeper).
Developing culturally responsive, inclusive environments is another element of cultivating happiness in India’s diverse education system. At S. S. Khalsa, their well-stocked multi-lingual library includes a wide variety of genres that are culturally relevant to their student body to support reader engagement. At DIET (the District Institute of Education and Training), teachers in training are using puppetry, folk art, and storytelling as culturally responsive methods that center student learning and challenge a culture of rote memorization.
Of course, many of these practices and policies are not without contrasts. Public systems often operate with limited resources, and as Dr. Ganguly reminded us, they “don’t lend themselves to exuberance.” Not all students have access to spaces like the Heartfulness Lounge or multilingual libraries. Not all students have access to air-conditioned auditoriums, robust extracurricular programming, or learning centers to support students with special needs. As Drs. Monimalika Day and Poonam Batra emphasized in their reflections, India’s vast diversity—and the lasting impacts of caste and colonization—mean that happiness in education cannot be separated from questions of equity and justice.
Dance class at BJV.
Learning about Lippan art with teachers in training at DIET. Photo by Marie.
Library at S.S. Khalsa, photo by Jamie.
How do Indians define and experience happiness in daily life, and what cultural values shape their perspectives?
This is a big question. But across my short field experience, the people I met consistently framed happiness as relational. In Kolkata, when I asked Sharmila why the city is known as “The City of Joy,” one of the first things she taught me about was adda—having long conversations over tea. The enjoyment of connecting with others through conversation repeatedly surfaced throughout my visit, whether in school or shopping at the market, and through rituals of hospitality or spirituality. The importance of family and finding purpose and meaning in your work were two additional themes I encountered, also reinforced by a cursory review of some current opinion pieces and research on happiness in India (see, for example, Kumari, 2022; Pillania, 2022; and Singh et al., 2022).
Playing games at Loreto Rainbow Homes.
Happiness browsing books.
Welcoming blessings at a lamp lighting ceremony at DIET.
What lessons from Indian education and culture can I bring back to my school’s efforts to foster students' happiness, hope, and resilience?
While my school is relationship-based and values social-emotional learning, I think we have room for growth in this area. I was inspired by many of the social‑emotional routines and structures woven into daily life at the schools we visited. Inspired by these models, I hope we can work with students on developing intentional well‑being zones: perhaps these could take the form of physical space, like the Stress Buster Room or Heartfulness Lounge, or perhaps these could be temporal zones carved with more consistency into class and/or advisory periods for mindfulness, self-reflection, or gratitude. While we are often focused on getting students up and moving (which is important), I believe we could work on balancing this with quiet, centering practices. Additionally, many of the speakers we heard from brought up the importance of not pretending that education in India can be divorced from its historical and social contexts (this is my short paraphrasing). Likewise, I think we need to keep this in mind and specifically address sociopolitical context in an age-appropriate way when teaching SEL (see Simmons’s “Why We Can’t Afford Whitewashing Social-Emotional Learning).
Friendship bench in the Stress Buster room.
Meditation in the Heartfulness Lounge.
Sanskriti library. Photo by Tracy.
How do the legacies of historical conflict—and the ways they are remembered—shape daily life and well-being in India?
Legacies of historical conflict percolate through schools and public spaces. At Sarvodaya Vidyalaya, garlanding statues in Freedom Fighter Park reminds students that Independence is a “lived inheritance,” not a remote date in a textbook. Walking through Mehrauli Archaeological Park exposed us to a millennium of religious and political monuments. These contested material layers—and the 2024 demolition of the 600‑year‑old Akhoondji Mosque in the adjacent Mehrauli District—show how such sites remain flashpoints where history, identity, politics, and faith collide. During our final program debrief, teachers from the U.S. and India alike named the legacies of colonization, caste/class hierarchies, and the competitive examination culture as ongoing forces that both challenge and galvanize efforts toward holistic education. Taken together, these observations suggest that well‑being in India is inseparable from legacies of historical conflict. I would also suggest that it’s bound up with the freedom to confront, question, and transform the systems those conflicts left behind.
Freedom Fighter Park.
Student-created poster in Sarvodaya Vidyalaya classroom.
Photo by Tereza.