Dear children,
Permit an old physicist, educator and grandfather to write to you — not because I know your names, but because I know something about dreams.
Since late June, your school has found itself at the centre of a national conversation. Much has been said about graduation ceremonies, examination results and feelings of exclusion. Adults have debated policies, criticised decisions, and defended positions. Amid all that noise, I fear the voices most deserving of being heard have too often been yours.
So, let me begin with a truth that every child should treasure:
Your worth is never determined by a single examination.
Nor is it measured by a graduation gown, a certificate, a photograph, a ring, a prize, the seat you occupied during one afternoon, or who hugged you up at that school ‘graduation’ event. An examination measures only what you were able to demonstrate on a particular day, under particular conditions. It cannot measure your kindness, integrity, courage, imagination, perseverance or the contribution you may one day make to Jamaica and to humanity. History is filled with people who struggled in childhood before astonishing the world as adults. Never forget that!
To those of you whose PEP results were outstanding, congratulations! Your hard work deserves recognition. Continue striving for excellence. But, remember this: achievement should produce gratitude, never superiority. The classmate who struggled this year may one day become the physician who saves your life, the engineer who designs your bridge, the entrepreneur who creates employment, or the teacher who inspires another generation. Academic success is a blessing; it is never a licence for pride.
To those whose hearts were bruised by recent events, please do not mistake temporary disappointment for permanent destiny. During almost four decades of mentoring thousands of A-QuEST students, I have repeatedly watched young people who others underestimated become distinguished scientists, engineers, physicians, educators, journalists, poets, entrepreneurs and public servants. Human potential often unfolds more slowly than public opinion.
To Our Teachers and School Leadership,
Teaching is among civilisation’s greatest callings. Every lesson prepared, every exercise marked, and every encouraging conversation after class represents an investment in Jamaica’s future. For this, our nation owes you sincere gratitude.
Yet, teaching also carries immense responsibility. Children seldom remember every lesson they were taught, but they almost always remember how their teachers made them feel. Academic standards matter greatly, but compassion matters just as much. The finest schools refuse to choose between the two; they insist upon both. Education should challenge children without diminishing them. It should strengthen confidence while cultivating discipline, and encourage excellence without humiliating those who are still learning.
To the leadership of Ascot Primary School, I write with respect. Leadership is rarely easy. Every principal must make difficult decisions under considerable pressure, and no leader escapes criticism forever. Character is revealed not by never making mistakes, but by reflecting honestly, learning from experience, and correcting course where necessary. Moments such as these should become opportunities for growth, reconciliation and renewed purpose.
To Parents, Grandparents and Guardians,
Your influence extends further than you may ever realise. Long before schools teach literacy, families teach identity.
My own grandparents, the Maylors, raised me here in Port Antonio with a family saying I have never forgotten: “Den-Den, yu not nuh nobody sof soap.” They wanted me to think independently, resist foolishness and bullying, and never surrender my judgement simply because others disagreed.
Yet, they always balanced that lesson with another: “Tan humble.” Only years later did I fully appreciate the wisdom of combining strength with humility. Strength without humility becomes arrogance; humility without strength becomes surrender. Children need both. Jamaica needs both.
Perhaps that is the deeper lesson hidden within this recent controversy. It invites us to move beyond arguments over gowns, ceremonies and photographs and instead confront a far more important national question:
Are we ensuring that every Jamaican child genuinely masters the foundational skills upon which all later learning depends? Or, have we sometimes become content with celebrating educational progress before educational mastery has actually been achieved?
That, in my view, is the real issue.
The deeper national worry is neither gowns nor ceremonies, but the quiet social promotion of children who have not yet mastered foundational literacy and numeracy. Genuine compassion never disguises educational deficiencies. Instead, it identifies and repairs them before advancement, preserving every child’s confidence, dignity and future opportunities through honest learning.
Children deserve encouragement, but they also deserve truth. The kindest teacher is not the one who lowers standards to avoid temporary disappointment, but the one who patiently helps every child overcome difficulties until genuine mastery is achieved. There is no shame in needing more time to learn. There is, however, profound injustice in pretending that learning has occurred when it has not.
A ceremony lasts an afternoon; learning lasts a lifetime.
A photograph decorates a wall; knowledge equips a life.
If this difficult episode encourages Jamaica to invest more deeply in literacy, numeracy, teacher development, early intervention and genuine educational equity, then something valuable will emerge from this disappointment. Educational equity does not mean pretending that every child has reached the same destination. It means ensuring that every child receives the support necessary to get there.
Looking Forward
Dear children, as you prepare for secondary school, walk forward with your heads held high. Be confident – not because someone applauds you today, but because you have resolved never to stop learning tomorrow.
Read widely. Ask thoughtful questions. Celebrate the success of others without envy. Accept correction without resentment. Learn from failure without surrendering. Never imagine that your future has already been written by one examination or one ceremony.
When my father left me at Kingston College on my first January morning there, he quietly said, “Many more rungs on the ladder of your life are still to be climbed.” I now whisper those same words on to you.
My deepest hope for Ascot Primary School is that this moment will be remembered not as a painful controversy, but as the point at which criticism became wisdom, hurt became healing, and public embarrassment became renewed commitment to every child entrusted to its care.
Schools, like people, are not defined by whether they stumble. They are defined by what they learn afterwards.
My prayer is for renewal. May every child who passes through the gates of Ascot Primary School leave equipped with strong literacy, sound numeracy, disciplined habits, compassionate hearts, humble confidence, and an enduring love of learning. These are achievements that no examination can fully measure, no ceremony can adequately celebrate, and no disappointment can ever take away.
May God richly bless every child, every teacher, every parent, and the entire Ascot Primary School community, as together you continue the noble work of educating Jamaica’s future.
The finest graduates are not those who wear the most impressive robes, but those whose knowledge, character and service become enduring gifts to their nation.
Dennis A. Minott, PhD, is the CEO of A-QuEST-FAIR. Send feedback to: a_quest57@yahoo.com or columns@gleanerjm.com
