Questions Parents Often Ask

Resources & Answers

Questions Parents Often Ask

So far, you've heard our perspective. And the beauty of community is that we get to hear many different perspectives too, often captured in the questions parents ask. Some of these come from families who are already part of Comini, others from those exploring whether this path could be right for them. These questions are not distractions from our work. They are part of it. They reflect the hopes and fears that arise when we consider doing something different from what the world expects.
We'll start with a question that gets right to the heart of this anxiety.

Does alternative learning mean alternative careers?

Not at all. But it often means clearer, more purposeful choices. Our approach is designed to nurture children who know themselves, who have confidence in their ability to learn what they need, and who understand how to pursue their interests with depth and flexibility. These are qualities that serve all careers, not just "alternative" ones. In fact, they are increasingly essential even in the most conventional ones.
Children who learn to think independently, solve problems creatively, collaborate effectively, and pursue their interests with depth and persistence are developing exactly the capacities most valued in today's rapidly changing world. The World Economic Forum consistently identifies creativity, critical thinking, and adaptability as the most crucial skills for future employment, precisely what our approach nurtures.

Will my child learn everything they need?

That depends on how we define "need." If it means meeting national or international benchmarks in literacy, numeracy, and key competencies, yes. If it means memorizing every textbook fact on a state syllabus regardless of relevance, then no, and intentionally so. We focus on what matters most: learning how to learn, how to express, how to collaborate, how to think. These are the foundations that allow children to acquire whatever specific knowledge they need when they need it.
What may look like "just play" to an outside observer often involves sophisticated learning across multiple domains. A child building an elaborate marble run is exploring physics, developing spatial reasoning, practicing measurement, testing hypotheses, refining designs based on results, and often collaborating with peers, all within a project they genuinely care about.

What happens when they go to a regular school?

Some adjust immediately. Others take a few weeks to find their rhythm. We've seen both. But what stands out is that they carry a strong sense of self, curiosity, and confidence into any environment. They may find aspects of conventional schooling strange or rigid, but they know how to ask for help, how to stay true to themselves, and how to navigate change. That's the real preparation we offer.
What we've consistently observed is that children from Comini adapt remarkably well when they transition to more conventional settings. The reason isn't that they've covered identical content, though they've usually developed strong fundamentals. It's that they've learned something more valuable: how to learn in any environment.

How do you handle discipline and difficult behavior?

We don't think of behavior as "good" or "bad." We ask what the child is trying to communicate. Children act out when something isn't working, emotionally, socially, or environmentally. Rather than using punishment, we look for causes. Are they overwhelmed? Bored? Seeking connection? We set clear boundaries, but we work through conflict by building skills: emotional regulation, communication, and problem-solving. Not by enforcing blind obedience.
When challenging behaviors persist, we work closely with families to understand patterns, develop consistent approaches across settings, and sometimes bring in additional resources. This partnership is crucial, we're supporting the whole child, not just managing classroom behavior.

Is there any structure?

Yes, but not the kind most people imagine. We have rhythms, expectations, and routines. But we also believe children need room to explore and make decisions. Structure here means clarity, not control. Predictability without rigidity. Our days have flow and intention. They are not free-for-alls. But neither are they factory schedules.
Our environment offers consistent rhythms and clear expectations that help children develop security and self-regulation. The day has a reliable flow, gathering times, focused work periods, meals together, time for movement and rest. These rhythms aren't arbitrary; they support children's natural energy patterns and developmental needs.

But what if a child doesn't want to do anything?

We've found that children always want to do something. But it may not look like what adults expect. What's often labeled as "laziness" or "lack of motivation" is usually boredom, disconnection, or anxiety. Our facilitators observe closely and work with each child to uncover interests, make connections, and create meaningful challenges. Once engagement returns, motivation does too. Forcing it never works. Creating conditions that invite it does.
Self-direction develops through practice. We offer increasing opportunities for children to make meaningful choices, set their own goals, manage their time, and reflect on their progress. These aren't skills that magically appear; they grow through consistent support and gradually increasing responsibility.

What about competitive exams?

We understand the role exams play in many academic pathways, especially in India. Our goal is not to avoid them but to build the skills and confidence needed to approach them when the time comes. Foundational literacy, numeracy, logic, comprehension, writing, these are all practiced here. But we avoid early drilling. Children who understand concepts deeply and know how to manage stress tend to do better on exams when they choose that route.
Our approach may seem counterintuitive: we don't focus on exam preparation in the early years. Instead, we focus on developing the foundational capacities that ultimately support successful learning in any context: deep conceptual understanding, effective learning strategies, confidence in one's abilities, and intrinsic motivation.

How does this work for kids who don't like to read?

We don't push reading as a duty. We create a world where reading is useful, delightful, and connected to real questions and interests. We surround children with stories, books, conversations, writing. Some take longer to become fluent. But almost all learn to love reading, because we wait until they're ready, and then it clicks. The skill always comes. The love for it only comes if it isn't crushed by pressure.
We believe that learning to read starts with learning to love language. With stories. With wonder. With the feeling of being transported into another world by a sentence that sings. That line has stayed with children (and adults) across generations. Not because someone drilled the sounds into them. But because it meant something.

Do you teach math?

Absolutely. But not the way many of us learned it. We treat math as a way of thinking, a tool for solving problems, a language for understanding patterns and relationships. We use games, projects, stories, and real-world scenarios. Children still learn operations, measurement, geometry, data, and more. But they also learn to enjoy math, and that changes everything.
Before anything else, children need to feel math. We mean that quite literally. We start not with numbers, but with things. Pebbles, lids, seed pods. Countable, graspable, movable things that allow the mind and the hand to connect. The first step to understanding "three" is not seeing the numeral 3. It's seeing three tomatoes, three pebbles, three turns on the swing. And noticing something common across all of them.

Can you support children with different needs?

We work with each child as a unique learner. That includes children who are neurodivergent, highly sensitive, or have different learning profiles. We're not a therapy center, but our small group sizes and flexible approaches allow us to personalize learning. We partner closely with families and professionals when needed. And we hold firm to this belief: difference is not deficiency.
Our mixed-age, project-based approach naturally allows for multiple entry points and paths to mastery. A child who processes information differently or faces specific challenges can engage with materials and concepts in ways that work for them, without being labeled or separated from peers.

What if a child is ahead or behind?

These ideas don't mean much to us. Children develop on different timelines. One might be reading novels at six but still learning to manage frustration. Another might struggle with writing but build astonishing machines from recycled parts. We meet them where they are and help them grow in every domain. Everyone is ahead in something and behind in something else. That's life.
One of the bright children we've worked with simply couldn't string together the sounds for simple three-letter words. He could build elaborate marble runs, crack logic puzzles, and lead complex pretend-play games, but "cat" remained elusive. For months, we debated: should we begin one-on-one sessions? Should we screen for dyslexia? But then we reminded ourselves: development is uneven. Learning is nonlinear.

What role do parents play?

A big one. But not as substitute teachers. Parents help us understand their child, extend learning at home, and sometimes even join in our projects. The relationship matters. When parents and facilitators are on the same page, children feel supported. We're not replacing the family. We're adding another layer of partnership.
Parents aren't just allies. They're co-learners. We often get asked: "What should we be doing at home?" And it's a good question. But hidden inside it is a trap, the idea that there is a real learning space (Comini) and a less important one (home), and that the goal is to carry over the former into the latter.

Do kids actually learn how to write?

Yes. But we don't start with grammar drills. We begin with expression. Telling stories. Capturing thoughts. Making signs for games. Writing letters to friends. From there, structure and conventions grow naturally. Children want to be understood. That's what drives good writing. Not red marks on paper.
Writing begins not with line tracing or dictation, but with expression. A comic strip. A postcard to a friend. A recipe for a potion. A sign for a play. When a child wants to say something, we support them in writing it down, with help when needed, with spelling support gently offered, not enforced.

What about sports?

This is one of the real challenges in a microschool model. We don't have large grounds or full-time coaches. But we take it seriously. We build physical play into every day, from running games to climbing to yoga. We also partner with coaches and clubs in the city for structured training. We're exploring ways to enter leagues and team events. It's a work in progress, but we're committed.
Our approach has been twofold. First, we partner with local sports programs and leagues, helping connect families to opportunities that match their children's interests. Second, we organize regular play days with other alternative schools, creating opportunities for friendly matches and games that build skills without overemphasizing competition.

Is there any homework?

We don't assign homework in the traditional sense. But learning often spills into home. Children might want to keep working on a project, finish a story, or bring in something from home to share. We encourage families to talk, read, cook, play, explore together. That's the kind of learning that sticks. Not worksheets sent home to complete.

What if my child just wants to play all day?

That's not a problem. It's a clue. Play is how children make sense of the world. It's where they try on ideas, test limits, and build skills. What we call "just play" often includes math, science, social negotiation, storytelling, and more. When we pay attention, we see that play is not a break from learning, it is the deepest kind of learning.
Play isn't just fooling around. It's not a break from learning. For children, play is learning in its most natural and powerful form. Play isn't just for young children either. The essence of play, the mindset of "what if?" and "why not try this way?", becomes increasingly valuable in today's rapidly changing world.

What about technology and screen time?

Technology offers powerful tools for learning, creating, and connecting. But it also comes with legitimate concerns about its impact on developing brains, attention spans, and social skills. We've adopted a thoughtful approach that acknowledges both the potential benefits and the very real risks.
For young children, we prioritize direct, hands-on experiences with the physical world and face-to-face social interaction. Screen-based learning simply can't replace the developmental value of building with blocks, making art with real materials, digging in soil, or negotiating with peers in imaginative play.
We use technology to strengthen what we believe is the most important part of guided learning: the human loop. That living, breathing connection between child and facilitator. We use it to help us see a little further, listen a little deeper, plan a little better. But the heart of learning remains the same: a relationship, a question, a moment of meaning.

What about socialization?

Our mixed-age environment creates rich opportunities for diverse social learning. Children develop relationships across age groups, taking on different roles as they grow. Younger children find role models and helpers in older peers. Older children develop leadership, patience, and empathy by supporting younger ones. All benefit from a community where competition for status is reduced and collaboration is valued.
The quality of socialization matters more than the quantity. In our smaller community, children receive more attentive guidance in developing communication skills, conflict resolution, perspective-taking, and emotional regulation. Their social learning isn't left to chance in chaotic playgrounds but is supported through thoughtful facilitation and consistent practice in real situations.

My child seems to just do the same thing every day. Shouldn't they be doing more?

Repetition isn't stagnation. It's how mastery develops. When a child returns to the same activity day after day, they're often working on something important that we may not immediately recognize.
When all a child does is build with blocks every day for weeks, it might seem like a lack of progress or variety. But watching closely reveals something different: each structure is slightly more complex than the last. He's testing different approaches to stability, incorporating new elements, refining his understanding of balance and proportion. This isn't repetition; it's iteration, the essence of deep learning.

What can we tell relatives who are skeptical about our choice?

First, recognize that most concerns come from care, not criticism. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends worry because they want the best for your child. They've been shaped by their own educational experiences and the dominant cultural narratives about what "proper schooling" looks like.
Rather than responding defensively, share your positive reasons for choosing Comini. Talk about the joy you see in your child's learning, the progress you've noticed, the specific ways this approach supports their unique strengths and challenges. Concrete examples work better than educational philosophy.
Remember that you don't need to convince everyone. Sometimes simply acknowledging concerns while confidently maintaining your choice is enough: "I understand why you might worry about that. We've thought carefully about it, and we're seeing real benefits for our child."

How do we know this actually works?

You know it by watching the children. Are they curious? Confident? Thoughtful? Do they ask questions, take initiative, try new things? Are they growing in awareness, expression, compassion, and skill? That's what learning looks like. We also document their growth over time, through photos, stories, reflections, and work samples, not to prove anything, but to understand and support their journey.
Learning isn't a performance to be judged but a story to be witnessed, supported, and celebrated in all its messy, beautiful complexity. The true test isn't just how children perform while at Comini. It's who they become and how they engage with the world in the years that follow.

Is this scalable?

Maybe not in the conventional sense. But we don't need mass replication. We need more spaces, large and small, committed to meaningful, joyful learning. What we're building at Comini is not a franchise model. It's an invitation. A challenge. A proof of possibility.

Will my child be okay?

They already are. The question is: will the world make room for them to remain that way?