Recently, one of my students, a gold medal holder from one of Nepal’s prestigious universities, came to my office and requested a letter of recommendation.
I asked why.
He told me he was planning to go overseas to study at a foreign university. So I asked him something else: Wasn’t he happy with the degree, even the gold medal, he had just earned at home?
He paused. He offered no definitive answer, nor did he seem particularly motivated to say much more.
That silence stayed with me.
If a student who has achieved the very best the system can offer — top marks, top honours and a gold medal — still feels that something is missing, then perhaps the problem lies beyond marks.
He is not alone. Hundreds of young Nepalis pass through Tribhuvan International Airport every day, some with degrees in hand, along with passports and admission letters. Some are pursuing further education. Others are leaving for work. All are going somewhere else.
There are many reasons for this. Opportunities abroad, family aspirations and the prospect of better income all play a role. But underneath these reasons is a subtler question: What is the “quality education” they believe they can only get in another country?
Are they simply seeking more classrooms and more certificates, or are they looking for an education system connected to learning and skills, opportunity, innovation, confidence and employment?
The recent announcement by Education Minister Sasmit Pokharel that the curriculum would be changed based on recommendations from students, teachers and parents is encouraging. It signals a willingness to open a process that has too often remained closed to the people most affected by it.
But gathering suggestions alone is not enough to bring about meaningful curriculum reform. We also need to pay attention to the deeper signals coming from classrooms, universities, workplaces and the aspirations of young Nepalis.
Listening beyond suggestions
What does “meaningful listening” actually mean?
It is not simply about which chapter students dislike, which textbook teachers do not want to teach, or which examination format should be changed. Those are surface questions. Surface questions tend to produce surface reforms — new chapters added to an old book, or new covers on a book that has otherwise remained unchanged.
The deeper signals are already there, if somebody is willing to collect them systematically.
Students are asking themselves, “I have studied, but am I ready for a job?”
Graduates are saying, “I have a degree, but I have no work experience and I am not confident.”
Students are reporting, “I don’t see enough scope for inquiry, collaboration and real-world problem-solving in the curriculum.”
Employers are reporting that graduates have qualifications but lack the ability to apply their knowledge.
These voices should be treated as data points, not merely as a line item in a ministry report. This requires structured and continuous work involving consultation, classroom observation, graduate tracking, employer surveys and ongoing course adjustments rather than periodic reform.
Teachers, especially, should not be seen only as facilitators of a pre-made curriculum. They are among the first to discover what works, what does not, and what new skills pupils need.
Curriculum reform should begin with teachers’ voices, but it should not end with a questionnaire. Their experience should be a genuine catalyst for curriculum design and revision, rather than simply a confirmation of decisions already made.
From credentials to capability
This is not a standalone issue.
A 2025 study on graduate employability in Nepal found that the most important employability predictors included teamwork and problem-solving skills, practical training experience and the university curriculum studied.
The message is clear: a degree is for getting, but not necessarily for doing.
A degree is not necessarily proof of communication, collaboration, critical thinking, problem-solving, adaptability or the ability to apply knowledge in real-world situations.
This gap has tangible consequences.
During FY 2024/25 alone, more than 839,000 Nepalis received labour permits to go abroad for work, while more than 112,000 received no-objection certificates to study abroad in FY 2023/24.
Behind each number is a young person who has weighed Nepal’s classrooms against a classroom abroad and opted for the latter, just like the student who came to me for that letter.
Not all those who leave are escaping a broken system.
Remittances are a natural consequence of globalisation. They support millions of families and, indirectly, the country’s economy. Nor should going abroad automatically be seen as a rejection of Nepal.
The question of what we teach, however, is not merely academic when educated young people have limited pathways from learning to livelihood at home.
Teaching what machines lack
Learners today live in a world where knowledge is readily available. Through YouTube, TikTok, online courses and generative AI, they can access and learn information in ways that often go beyond what happens in a traditional classroom.
The Minister himself has acknowledged that AI needs to be introduced into the curriculum.
But this is not simply about adding a chapter on AI.
As machines generate more information and routine solutions, classrooms need to devote more time and attention to what humans do with information: question, analyse, create, communicate, collaborate and solve problems.
A curriculum that continues to value success primarily through memory risks preparing a generation for a future that has already arrived.
This leads to a fundamental question that curriculum reform must address: What should students be able to do with what they study?
And ultimately: What qualities should a Nepalese graduate have to succeed in classrooms, workplaces and the future?
From paper to practice
What is the next step?
Three things can help turn good intentions into reality if the Ministry is to fulfil its promise.
First, it should reach out to public and community schools as well, rather than consulting only those that are already organised and well connected. Otherwise, the same voices will be repeated over and over again.
Second, teacher training needs to happen alongside curriculum change. Giving a new curriculum to teachers who have not been adequately prepared to deliver it will not take us very far.
Third, every reform needs follow-up. Did students become more employable? Are they pursuing further study? Has their confidence increased? These questions can help make curriculum revision a continuous process rather than a one-off announcement.
There is no quick fix. Curriculum reform requires the determination to treat education as a long-term process, not a short-term intervention designed to respond to public criticism.
The way forward
When it comes to curriculum revision, changing what is written on paper is only half the battle.
The other half is ensuring that the change reaches classrooms, keeps pace with the world beyond them, and translates classroom learning into what that world demands today.
The true test of reform will be what students are able to do with what they have learned.
The aim should not be to graduate students who can only pass examinations or collect certificates. It should be to develop young people who can think on their feet, solve problems, work with others and apply their knowledge, regardless of who they are or where they choose to build their futures.
The airport queue, then, is not necessarily a commentary on the failure of Nepal’s education system. But it is a wake-up call.
It asks us to consider whether our classrooms are giving young people not only qualifications, but also the skills, confidence and opportunities they need to build their futures.
That is a question Nepal must address before the next generation packs its bags and searches elsewhere for the answers.
