The restless wisdom of Generation Alpha

I know the rules. Please don’t start explaining them.

Today’s children’s eyes sparkle with reaction, not knowledge. They don’t want to listen, because we haven’t heard them. “I know the rules, please don’t start explaining them”—this sentence isn’t just a child’s dialogue, but a mirror of the fatigue, insecurity, and emotional distance of modern parenting. When a child says this, they’re questioning not the rules, but the very nature of the relationship. It’s time to teach children dialogue, not discipline—otherwise, the future society will be intelligent, but not sensitive.

When I saw the scene in “Kaun Banega Crorepati,” where ten-year-old Ishit told Amitabh Bachchan, “I know the rules, please don’t start explaining them,” I wasn’t surprised at all. I’ve seen many children whose words are mature beyond their years, but whose emotions are far behind their childhood.

Some on social media called him arrogant, others said his parents hadn’t instilled good values. But the truth lay deeper than these immediate reactions. That boy was, in fact, a mirror of an entire generation—the generation we call the Alpha generation, the fastest, most impatient, and most unstable.

These children are growing up in an era where the answer to every question is just a touch away. Their childhood is filled with mobile phones, replacing games with peers, and the glare of the screen. They want everything “instantly”—answers, attention, and praise. But this immediacy comes at a cost. The part of their brain responsible for patience, judgment, and emotional control is swept away by a deluge of information before it can mature. The result is a rapid pace of thought, while the ability to control it weakens. These children know a lot, but they don’t know how to pause and listen.

Ishit’s behavior reflected that unease. His words were confident, but behind that confidence was a hidden fear. At an age when children should be asking questions, he was eager to answer. This isn’t just a child’s tendency, but a sign of a broader social situation. This behavior isn’t a sign of a mental illness, but rather the result of unbalanced development. When a child is constantly trying to speak up, prove himself right, and attract attention, he’s living under some invisible pressure.

Often, these children are caught in an invisible competition. They believe they must appear intelligent and successful at all costs. This superficial confidence is a veil behind which lies insecurity, fear, and performance anxiety. When Ishit said, “If I don’t win twelve lakh rupees, I won’t be allowed to take a picture with you,” it was clear that his self-worth is tied to achievement. This pressure stems from the expectations of family, school, and society.

Today’s parents praise their children’s intelligence and achievements, but pay little attention to their emotions. The priority is to make them smart, not disciplined. They forget that children’s greatest learning power is imitation. They learn from our actions, not from our words. If there is irritation, impatience, and bitterness at home, they will replicate the same patterns in society. The nature sown like a seed in the family grows into a tree in society.

The same scenario plays out in schools. A seventh-grade student declares, “I already know everything.” An eighth-grade student breaks down, entangled in the web of love and popularity found on social media. This is not just the fault of parents, but also of the education system, which expects the same pace and results from every child. A child who doesn’t fit that mold is labeled a rebel. Sometimes, their rebellion is merely a voice of inconsistency, not a crime.

The greatest paradox of our time is that we have equated knowledge with speed. We have mistaken technical proficiency for maturity. But the real crisis is that our new generation is becoming emotionally unstable. They communicate with the outside world, but not with their inner selves. Schools, gadgets, and societal competition have robbed children of the stillness of childhood. Now, a quiet child is labeled “slow,” while a loud one is labeled “successful.” This is the paradox of our civilization.

The problem lies not in the child, but in our perspective. We taught children to speak, but not to listen; we gave them knowledge, but not empathy. We taught them achievement, but not balance. That’s why today, any child who expresses their feelings is immediately labeled “uncultured,” “arrogant,” “rebellious.” But that child is merely a reflection of our own impatience. Our homes, our schools, and our society are collectively transforming that innocent mind into a machine that speaks a lot but understands little. Now, there’s competition in education, performance in parenting, and comparison in society. All three have robbed a child of their spontaneity.

Now, we need to change both our thinking and our systems. Children need empathy, not just knowledge. They need to be taught to endure, not conquer. If we don’t change course, qualities like humility and patience will be labeled as abnormal. Society is moving toward a path where the quiet will be considered weak, and the shouting successful. This is a dangerous time when the roots of civilization are beginning to wither.

Ironically, the adults who criticized the child themselves use anger, disrespect, and abusive language on social media. How can a generation that has lost its self-control teach children decorum? This is the deepest concern.

That child is not a flaw, but a sign. He shows us the direction we are headed. We are creating citizens who are technically adept, but mentally exhausted. That child is a mirror of our inner haste, our expectations, and our imbalance. He needs to be understood, not scolded. Within every supremely clever child lies a bright but frightened mind, one that needs to be guided, not suppressed.

Unless we teach our children to value compassion over achievement and humility over intellect, they will continue to grow up under the burden of our unfulfilled aspirations. That child was, in fact, a reflection of ourselves—and perhaps we should now fear the reflection we are increasingly turning away from.