Last week, a few media reports went viral. The reports projected a dataset that should make everyone concerned uncomfortable. They show that we have nearly 8,000 schools with no enrollment, yet these schools have been assigned more than 20,000 teachers. Before you think this dataset must be from a report done with a vicious motive, I must mention that it was published by none other than the Ministry of Education.

Released every year, this report on the state of school education—covering infrastructure, gross and net enrolments, and drop-out ratios at various levels—is called the UDISE+ report. Although it was published in August this year, it gained much-needed attention only last week.

At first glance, it sounds like a bureaucratic blunder or a data glitch, but it is not. It is a peek into how deeply disconnected our school system is from the lives it was meant to serve. We have schools without children and children without schools. The problem is not just about numbers; it is about purpose.

Several reports suggest that in some areas, people have migrated to towns in search of employment, resulting in schools being left vacant. In others, the schools exist on paper but never really take off. Some were opened to tick a policy box—a school for every habitation within one kilometre—without checking if there were enough children to fill them.

Worse, these schools have not been closed for years, even with zero enrolment, because shutting them is politically sensitive. Every school represents a promise from the state; to close one feels like breaking that promise, even when it is an illusion.

The teachers assigned to these ghost schools continue to receive salaries. Some may have been transferred informally to nearby schools; others simply show up at empty buildings or fail to appear at all. Either way, public money is being spent without a public purpose. The system continues to pay because it cannot stop or has no means of redeploying these teachers where they are needed.

While thousands of teachers sit in empty schools, many government schools in other parts of the country remain overcrowded and understaffed. The national pupil-teacher ratio appears favourable on paper, but it is, again, a statistical illusion. When you spread teachers across schools that have no students, the average ratio improves.

The government proudly notes that the number of zero-enrolment schools has fallen from 12,954 in 2023–24 to 7,993 this year. But that drop doesn't necessarily mean improvement. Some schools may have been merged or simply reclassified. Unless we know where the children and the teachers went, this reduction is not progress. It is nothing but cleaning up on paper.

Now, let us look at the other end of the spectrum. The latest National Achievement Survey and ASER reports show massive gaps in learning outcomes. A shocking number of children in Class 5 cannot read a simple paragraph meant for Class 2 or do basic subtraction. In rural India, less than half of the children can read at their grade level. Even in cities, comprehension and numeracy lag behind curriculum expectations. We have two extremes: schools with no children and schools with children falling behind in age-appropriate learning outcomes.

That contrast tells us everything about what is broken. We have invested in infrastructure, buildings, teacher appointments, and midday meals. There is no denying that these are crucial. But somewhere along the way, we stopped asking the only question that matters: Are children learning?

We celebrate inputs—schools built and teachers hired—but rarely do we reflect on the progress or regression in real educational outcomes. The result is a system that operates without direction and lacks a clear vision. Yes, we have long vision and mission statements, but do they actually align with what we are doing? Will we ever be able to achieve them?

Empty schools are a statement on faulty planning that prioritises facilities over people. The UDISE+ report states, "Education is the single most effective tool for achieving social justice and equality. Inclusive and equitable education, an essential goal in its own right, is also critical to achieving an inclusive and equitable society in which every citizen has the opportunity to dream, thrive and contribute to the nation." But how will empty buildings bring dignity and prosperity to the nation?

It also shows that people have lost trust in the public education system. They have stopped sending their children to government schools, even when one stands next door. They are migrating to private schools, some barely better, simply because they no longer believe the government system can deliver quality. When a school exists and parents still choose to avoid it, that is the loudest vote of no confidence a citizen can cast.

The bureaucratic instinct will be to rationalise and merge these schools, reassigning teachers. However, these steps will not fix the deeper issue. A school is not a monument that exists for its own sake; it exists for children. If the children are not there, we must ask why, and if they are, we must ask what they are learning. We must seek answers to these questions and work towards bridging the gaps.

Some states have started reimagining the idea of a school. Cluster models, shared teachers, and transport-supported consolidation are steps in that direction. But these experiments remain exceptions. For the most part, we continue to treat education as a construction project rather than a learning mission.

The 8,000 schools with zero enrolment are not just numbers; they are symbols of silence. They tell us how comfortable we have become with inefficiency and how rare it has become for anyone to be held accountable. Somewhere between the ministry's spreadsheets and the village chalkboard, the connection between the teacher and the child has snapped. The state continues to fund the teacher, but not the trust.

We must stop pretending that education is about buildings and statistics. It is about human connection—the presence of a child who wants to learn and a teacher who believes they can change that child's life.

We do not need more schools; we need schools that work. The UDISE+ data may make for a sharp headline, but the real story is the quiet tragedy underneath: the child who walks miles to an overcrowded school while another stands empty nearby; the teacher who wants to teach but is stuck in a system that doesn't care where she is posted; the parent who believes education is their child's only way out but finds that promise slipping away year after year.

The numbers are expected to change again next year. Perhaps 8,000 will become 6,000. Possibly, some empty schools will be merged, some teachers will be transferred, and some data will be reclassified. However, unless we address what lies at the heart of it—the loss of purpose, the absence of accountability, and the neglect of learning—those numbers will mean nothing.

A school without students is a tragedy, but a nation full of students who are not learning is a bigger one. Both are failures of vision, one visible and one invisible. If we care at all about the future, we can no longer look away from either of them.