As a child growing up in Kashmir, winter holidays were once a source of uncomplicated joy. They arrived early, lasted long, and felt like a reward for enduring the academic year. With age, however, that nostalgia gives way to an uncomfortable realisation: the academic calendar in Kashmir, particularly for school education up to Class XII, is unusually compressed. What once felt like an indulgence of childhood now raises serious questions about learning outcomes, equity and future readiness. Traditionally, schools in the Kashmir division remain closed during December, January and February due to harsh winters. From March to November, students observe not only regular weekends but also a long list of government holidays. Over time, this pattern has become institutionalised. When the total number of working days is calculated and compared with most other states in India, the difference is stark. Kashmiri students simply spend fewer days in classrooms. This would be less concerning if learning outcomes were comparable. They are not. In an era defined by the Right to Education, rapid technological change, artificial intelligence and expanding scientific frontiers, time spent in structured learning environments matters more than ever. Schools are no longer just spaces for syllabus completion; they are gateways to conceptual thinking, skill development and national competitiveness. Fewer working days translate directly into fewer opportunities to learn, revise, question and grow. The burden of this compressed calendar falls disproportionately on students in government and low-fee private schools. While a handful of elite institutions quietly compensate through online classes, winter assignments or additional coaching, the majority lack the infrastructure and resources to do so. As a result, long breaks deepen educational inequality within Kashmir itself. Students from modest backgrounds fall further behind, not due to lack of ability or ambition, but because of systemic constraints. The consequences of this structural disadvantage become visible in national-level competitive examinations. If one compares the number of successful candidates from Kashmir in exams such as NEET or JEE with those from other regions of India, the disparity is evident. This gap is often misinterpreted as a reflection of individual merit. In reality, it is largely institutional. Competitive examinations demand sustained academic engagement, conceptual depth and exposure to diverse problem-solving frameworks—conditions difficult to achieve when classroom time itself is limited year after year. This challenge is compounded by the nature of classroom instruction. Most schools in the region remain heavily board-centric, focusing narrowly on NCERT textbooks and examination-oriented teaching. While this approach may suffice for board examinations, it is inadequate preparation for higher academic competition. Subjects such as mathematics, science and social sciences require engagement with multiple texts, applied learning and analytical reasoning. Without broader academic exposure, students enter national examinations underprepared, regardless of effort or aspiration. Teacher productivity and professional development form another layer of the problem. Long and frequent breaks disrupt teaching continuity and weaken student–teacher academic bonding. Moreover, institutional training for teachers—particularly in the private sector—remains limited. Exposure to modern pedagogical tools, digital learning platforms and evolving curriculum frameworks is uneven. This is not an indictment of teachers, but a reflection of a system that invests insufficiently in their continuous development. There is also a policy contradiction at play. On paper, educational regulations mandate minimum instructional hours. In practice, climate-related closures, administrative holidays and long winter breaks make compliance largely symbolic. The result is a system that formally exists within national standards but substantively falls short of them. None of this is to argue against the reality of Kashmir’s climate. Winter closures are neither arbitrary nor avoidable. The issue is not the existence of a winter break, but the absence of compensatory mechanisms. A climate-sensitive academic calendar need not be a learning-deficient one. Blended learning models, even with low-bandwidth solutions, structured winter assignments and staggered reopening schedules could mitigate learning loss without compromising safety. What is missing is deliberate planning. The School Education Department, Jammu and Kashmir should publish a clear, annual academic calendar that prioritises instructional days, particularly for senior classes. From Class VI onwards, schools could operate with minimal holidays beyond Sundays and essential festivals. A fixed minimum—say 210 to 220 working days for Classes IX to XII—would bring Kashmir closer to national norms. Equally important is curriculum reform at the school level. Encouraging the use of multiple reference books, applied problem-solving modules and interdisciplinary learning would better equip students for higher education and competitive examinations. This must be accompanied by mandatory teacher upskilling programmes, with a focus on digital pedagogy and modern assessment methods. Education policy cannot be governed by habit alone. Practices that may have been tolerable in an earlier era are increasingly untenable in a knowledge-driven economy. Students in Kashmir already navigate geographical isolation, limited exposure and fewer institutional advantages. Reducing their classroom time further only compounds these challenges. Beyond academic metrics lies a subtler, but equally important, psychological impact. Students internalise the sense that they are always starting late and finishing early. Over time, this shapes confidence, ambition and willingness to compete on a national stage. Education is not merely about instruction; it is about orientation towards the future. Recalibrating the school calendar in Kashmir is not about eliminating holidays or denying climatic realities. It is about recognising that learning loss has long-term consequences. If education is to serve as a genuine equaliser, it must be structured, continuous and forward-looking. Kashmir’s students are no less capable than their peers elsewhere. What they lack is time—time in classrooms, time with teachers, and time to engage deeply with knowledge. Addressing this deficit is not just an educational imperative, but a moral one. Until that happens, classrooms will continue to close early, and futures will remain unnecessarily deferred.   (Author is a columnist)