For decades, Indian cinema has revered the miracle teacher — a larger-than-life figure whose empathy and determination single-handedly transform a struggling child into a success story. Think Taare Zameen Par’s Ram Shankar Nikumbh, who spots brilliance in a struggling child, or Hichki’s Naina Mathur, who refuses to let a speech disorder—or an unmotivated class—define her journey. However, ‘Sitaare Zameen Par’ signals a subtle but important shift in this storytelling device.
Transformation is never unilateral
Miracle teachers are not just cinematic devices; they reflect our collective desire to believe in the power of one person to make a difference. And many genuine educators have that kind of impact—shaping confidence, opening minds, and remaining in memory for a lifetime. But, the norm in education is the everyday.
‘Sitaare Zameen Par’ implicitly critiques the idea of individual heroism as a solution to systemic issues. Instead, we’re introduced to a figure who reflects today’s educational ideals: grounded, open, and deeply hopeful—the “teachable teacher.”
In ‘Sitaare Zameen Par’, Aamir Khan plays Gulshan, a disgraced basketball coach sentenced to work with a team of individuals with neurodevelopmental disabilities. At first glance, Gulshan appears poised to follow the familiar arc — a flawed man who becomes a hero through his redemptive impact on his students. But as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that the real transformation is his own.
Unlike Nikumbh Sir in Taare Zameen Par, who identifies Ishaan’s dyslexia and revives his academic and emotional life, Gulshan is not the central healer. Instead, his basketball players — each with unique strengths, quirks, and emotional depth — challenge his prejudices, reshape his worldview, and teach him the value of dignity, patience, and humility.
In replacing the miracle teacher with the teachable teacher, ‘Sitaare Zameen Par’, offers not just a more inclusive story, but a more human one. This shift reflects a growing understanding in both education and cinema: transformation is rarely unilateral. Progress, especially in inclusive spaces, emerges from reciprocal relationships.
Unlike the “miracle teacher,” the teachable teacher is defined by their willingness to listen, reflect, and adapt. They do not see themselves as the centre of the classroom, but as co-learners—growing alongside their students. In the context of inclusive education, this transformative mindset becomes especially significant.
Inclusive education is not merely about placing all children in the same classroom; it is about valuing diversity, ensuring meaningful participation, and removing barriers to learning for every student—regardless of ability, background, or need. At the heart of this approach lies a transformative mindset—one that sees education as a collaborative, evolving process rather than a one-way transmission of knowledge. It calls for learning environments where differences are not just accommodated but embraced, and where both teaching and learning are shaped by flexibility, empathy, and reflection.
What’s missing
However, the film falls short in its treatment of certain systemic issues. The casual portrayal of workplace abuse and the lack of critical engagement with the exclusion of individuals from public spaces—such as schools, parks, and transportation—diminishes the film’s potential impact. In a society where access remains a persistent barrier for many, representation alone is not enough. What is equally essential is interrogation: a deeper, more honest critique of the structures that perpetuate marginalisation.
The film also stops short of critiquing the systems — educational, social, and legal — that perpetuate exclusion. Inclusion is not only about kind teachers and supportive peers; it’s also about policy, structure, and accountability. A nod to these broader issues would have elevated the film’s impact from emotional to systemic.
The film only lightly touches on parental involvement. In reality, parents are often central to shaping attitudes toward inclusion, success, and diversity. A subplot that explored a parent’s transformation could have deepened the narrative and made the message more holistic.
Still, the idea of the teachable teacher offers something valuable: hope without illusion. It tells us that progress in education doesn’t require superheroes. It requires people who are open to learning, people who are willing to question their own assumptions and co-create spaces where everyone—not just a few—can thrive.
And maybe, just maybe, the best stories we tell about education going forward won’t be about miraculous turnarounds, but about everyday moments of care, curiosity, and quiet transformation.
(Geetha Subramaniam is a curator of effective teaching and learning strategies. She is the Senior Manager – Academics at Chettinad Education and Services.)