Nafew Sajed Joy
‘Teaching’ is often portrayed as a noble profession, but that label barely captures its true essence. In reality, teaching is not just a job; it is a public service, a lifelong commitment to shaping minds and building nations. Yet even within this noble calling, a strange hierarchy exists, an invisible but deeply entrenched caste system that separates university professors, college lecturers, English medium teachers, coaching-centre instructors, and, at the very bottom, the primary school teacher.
Unfortunately, interest in the primary education sector remains critically low. The reasons are not difficult to grasp: low pay, inadequate training, poor infrastructure, and most damaging of all, society’s disregard for the role of the primary teacher. Even those willing to brave the stigma face another harsh reality: a starting salary so meagre that survival itself becomes a daily battle. Why would any young, talented graduate opt into such a system?
Primary education is where both the dream and the direction of a child’s life take root. It is during these formative years that aspirations to become a doctor, an engineer, or simply a good human being begin to form. And it is the primary teacher who quietly helps shape those aspirations into conviction. Like a sapling needing support to grow straight, a child requires foundational guidance.
Looking back, many of us would find that our earliest educational memories are tied not to university lecture halls, but to the blackboards and benches of our primary schools. It was our early teachers who helped us dream. And yet, those very individuals are now routinely devalued. This is because we, as a society, have built a culture of elevation through exclusion. We glorify the pinnacle of our own achievements while ignoring the foundations that made them possible.
This termite-ridden, self-serving ecosystem is slowly hollowing us from within. We take pride in building new universities and expanding private education. But with a broken spine, our primary system, how can we expect the nation to stand tall?
Despite increasing literacy rates in Bangladesh, the quality of primary education remains stagnant. While children in other countries master foundational skills in six and a half years, it takes Bangladeshi children nearly 11. The root cause? Chronic neglect of investment in teachers.
A 2023 NAPE study revealed that among 359,095 government primary teachers, 31.3% have only SSC or HSC qualifications. Many lack subject confidence, yet are expected to deliver quality education. How can students thrive if their teachers themselves are unsure?
One of the biggest reasons for this crisis is the unattractive financial nature of the profession. Assistant teachers start at the 13th grade with a base salary of only Tk11,000, amounting to about Tk19,500 with allowances. Although there is a proposal to upgrade them to the 12th grade, teachers are demanding the 11th. This is not an illogical ask; it is a call for survival with dignity.
In developed countries like China, South Korea, and Singapore, teachers receive respect, fair pay, and rigorous training. In contrast, teachers in Bangladesh suffer from low wages, diminished social status, and inadequate facilities. No wonder talented graduates avoid primary teaching.
When teachers drown in debt and are stripped of dignity, how can we expect them to build confident, future-ready citizens? Without structural reform, fair pay, respect, and job security, primary education will continue to crumble. This is not a luxury; it is a national necessity. In Luxembourg, Germany, and Switzerland, primary teachers earn over $5,000 monthly and are treated with respect. Teachers in the Maldives earn quintuple times more than their Bangladeshi counterparts. Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Nepal, even Myanmar, a country in political turmoil, offer better pay. Yet here, assistant teachers earn just Tk19,500. Amid soaring inflation, this isn’t a salary; it’s survival by struggle.
The backbone of the nation is cracking, and we are watching in silence. While global institutions like the World Bank and UNESCO have long stressed that quality education demands investment in teacher salaries, training, and social status, Bangladesh continues to ignore this truth. Our biggest challenge isn’t literacy, it’s the failure to ensure skilled teachers and effective teaching methods. And the question is simple: where is the budget?
UNESCO recommends allocating 20% of the national budget and 6% of GDP to education. Yet, in FY 2025–26, Bangladesh allocated only 14% of the national budget and a mere 1.77% of GDP to education. This is nothing more than a symptom of national neglect. The education budget is continuously flowing downward, like a waterfall. In the past four years, its share of GDP has fallen from 2.08% to a new low. Even Afghanistan and Sri Lanka outspend us on education. After the July 2024 public uprising, many expected a shift; but this year’s budget betrays that hope.
Deeper still lies a structural crisis. Unlike most countries with a unified primary education system, Bangladesh operates at least 11 types of institutions under five different curricula. Government schools, kindergartens, madrasas, and English-medium institutions follow entirely different teaching methods and evaluation systems. The result is growing inequality, where the rich buy better opportunities while the poor are left with broken infrastructure and overburdened, undertrained teachers.
This fractured foundation means children begin their education disadvantaged. Quality, equity, and dignity, doesn’t exist in today’s primary education landscape. If teachers are underpaid, disrespected, and ignored, how can they be expected to build the future?
To achieve quality education, we must act now. That means investing in proper training, increasing salaries, and restoring the dignity of teachers. Addressing shortages, reforming recruitment processes, and creating clear, attractive career paths are not optional but are urgent necessities. Without empowered and motivated teachers, primary education will remain trapped in crisis. Reform is not merely overdue; it is critical for the future of our country.
To truly fix primary education in Bangladesh, we must begin with something very basic: paying teachers a wage they can live on with dignity. If we want bright, capable graduates to seriously consider teaching as a career, we have to make the profession worth choosing. That means better pay, real career growth, opportunities for overseas training, and scholarship incentives that reflect the importance of the role.
At the same time, university educators must reconnect with the roots of the education system by engaging directly with primary schools. Even a few hours a week spent in classrooms could spark curiosity among children and close the growing disconnect between higher education and early learning.
But all of this takes money and commitment. Allocating just 14 percent of the national budget to education is simply not enough. We must treat education as a top priority, not a box to tick. Alongside better funding, we need to fix the broken structure of our system. Currently, at least eleven types of primary institutions follow five different curricula, which only widens inequality. Every child, regardless of where they are born or where they study, deserves the same quality of education.
Recruitment and transfers must also be reformed. We need to prioritize candidates with training in education, and ensure teacher postings, especially in rural areas, are fair and transparent. Promotions should come on time, not after years of silent waiting. Supervision must shift from pointless paperwork to real-time, supportive feedback that helps teachers grow. And infrastructure matters too. Every school should have clean classrooms, safe drinking water, electricity, and internet access. These are not luxuries. They are the bare minimum we owe our children.
(The views expressed in this article are the author’s)
The writer is a researcher
