Bricks And Books:Private school teachers and furnace workers live parallel lives

In the smoldering glow of a brick furnace, a worker stoops, soot-encrusted, piling raw clay to be fed into a machine that never pauses. A few miles from the clean-swept classroom filled with charts and chalkboards lies the backdrop for a young private school teacher's life, standing, giving lesson after lesson with idealistic fervor and hardly a moment to catch her breath. At first glance, these two lives are worlds away from each other. But underneath the smoke and syllables, both are confronting the same cruel reality: colossal toil, meager remuneration, and a system that feeds off their fatigue.

Private instruction, specifically in lower to middle-level private schools, is now the contemporary intellectual furnace—a name-tempted ideal but exploitative by nature. Well-armed with degrees, thought, and hopes of making their mark on the future, countless new graduates become ensnared in schools that idealize teaching while reproducing the worst exploitation of laboring practices.

Think about this: a kiln worker may handle 1,000 bricks per day and earn just enough to feed his or her family. Likewise, a private school teacher may have six to eight classes per day, handle paperwork, plan lessons, and run extracurricular activities—usually for less than a minimum wage. Both the worker and the teacher in both positions are the backbone of their respective industries. And both are treated like disposable items.

The hypocrisy of private school proprietors is this stark contradiction. They advertise "nurturing minds" and "providing quality education," yet in secret they drain dry the same teachers who are making those guarantees possible. Overtime, no job security, little benefits—these are now the standard. The bait of "experience" is held out like a carrot, but after years of serving for peanuts, many teachers learn that experience only goes so far.

What compounds the tragedy of the private school teacher is the silence surrounding it. Workers in manual trades are at least identified as victims of cruel work environments. Teachers, on the other hand, are supposed to wear a smile, bear society's expectation, and thank their masters for the "opportunity."

But this is not merely a question of compensation—it's a question of respect and sustainability. When we permit a system to drain the passion and intellect of young graduates, we risk emptying the very heart of our educational future. The brightest minds burn out early, frequently changing careers, leaving teaching not because they don't love it, but because love alone cannot keep them afloat.

It's time to speak out against this double standard. It's time to acknowledge that a classroom can be as stifling as a furnace when exploitation is central. If we really care about education, we need to begin by caring about educators—not in rhetoric, but in pay, rights, and respect.

Until then, private schools will continue to be factories—putting a shine on their walls and futures while drawing sustenance from the shattered backs of those who occupy their halls.