Emotions Need No Translation

In Sochi, a room full of Russian students reinforced a belief I have carried for years: children may grow up in different cultures and education systems, but their emotional questions are universal. The more schools listen to them, the better education can become.

A few weeks ago, I was in Sochi, sitting in a room with Russian students as they responded to one of our School Cinema films in a language I did not understand. I could not follow every word. Yet I understood almost everything that mattered.

One student hesitated before offering an opinion, the way students hesitate everywhere when they are about to say something true. Another responded with conviction. Some agreed, others saw the situation differently, and the teachers listened as the conversation moved gently from the film on screen into the students’ own lives.

It was a familiar scene. I have watched similar conversations unfold in schools across India, in London, Dubai and in government schools in rural Karnataka. The language changes. The uniform changes. The syllabus changes but the questions young people carry do not - Who am I? Where do I belong? Why do relationships change? What does success really mean? What kind of future awaits me? How do I choose when there is no obvious right answer?

Geography changes. Humanity does not.

Over years of travelling across countries and engaging with different education systems, I have stopped being surprised by how alike children are beneath their differences of culture, curriculum and classroom practice. Strip those differences away, and what remains is fear, hope, loneliness, friendship, rejection, acceptance, confusion and courage. These are emotions every child recognises, in any language.

This is perhaps why cinema crosses borders that language cannot.

We recognise hesitation on a face before we understand a word of dialogue. We know the ache of exclusion and the relief of acceptance without needing either to be subtitled. A powerful story connects us not merely through language, but through shared human experience.

Emotions need no translation. But watching a film is not the same as learning from it.

Understanding Film Pedagogy

This is where schools often misunderstand Film Pedagogy. Screening a film and moving on to the next period may offer entertainment, but it does not, by itself, create education. The learning begins afterwards, in the few minutes that are so often sacrificed to the timetable. What did you notice? What did you feel? Which character did you understand? What made you uncomfortable? What would you have done differently? These questions matter because they give students permission to speak.

We invest enormous energy in designing curricula, timetables, assessments, policies and processes for students. Far less often do we design any of them by listening to students? Children routinely see things that adults miss. They can tell us what feels irrelevant in the classroom, where they feel unseen, what creates anxiety, what helps them learn and what quietly prevents them from participating.

The Art of Listening

The more we listen to students, the better our systems can become.

Listening does not mean agreeing with every opinion or accepting every suggestion. It means recognising that students are not merely recipients of education. They are participants in it. Their lived experience should inform how schools teach, communicate, assess and improve. Stories create a particularly safe space for student voice.

A child may not be comfortable speaking directly about loneliness, peer pressure, conflict at home or fear of failure. Yet, the same child may speak freely about why a character in a film behaved in a particular way. The story creates distance. Through the character, the student can explore a difficult emotion without immediately making the conversation personal.

I have seen this happen repeatedly. A thoughtful teacher listens to a student’s response and, through it, begins to understand the child sitting in front of them. This, more than any screening or festival selection, is the real purpose of School Cinema. It is not cinema as a reward, and it is not a break from learning. It is the structured use of stories to help students observe, feel, question, discuss, reflect and act.

Reflection, Understanding, Behaviour

Stories create reflection. Reflection creates understanding. Understanding shapes behaviour.

This becomes even more important in the age of artificial intelligence. Information is already abundant. Answers are becoming faster, cheaper and more accessible. Technology can explain a concept, summarise a chapter and solve a problem within seconds. But the future will not suffer from a shortage of information. It may suffer from a shortage of understanding.

Young people will need the ability to listen, read a room, understand different perspectives, manage their emotions and make responsible decisions in the company of others. These are not secondary or “soft” skills. They are fundamental human capabilities. They cannot be installed through instruction alone. They must be practised, story by story and conversation by conversation, over many years.

NEP 2020 asks Indian schools to move in this direction, beyond rote learning and towards holistic, experiential development. The intent is right. The execution still has a long way to go.

School Cinema – A Universal Language

My journey to Sochi did not give me a new theory. It reaffirmed a belief that has guided our work with School Cinema for many years. Cinema is more than a medium. It is a universal language that helps young people understand themselves, understand others and find the confidence to say what they actually think.

Perhaps education will not improve merely when we teach children better.

Perhaps it will improve when we become seriously better at listening to them.