Pawan farewell blog dreamadream

 

What Dream a Dream Taught Me — and How I See Myself Now

Reflection on six years of learning, struggle, growth, and gratitude

Pawan Kumar Chaturvedi  ·  Associate Lead, North Hub  ·  April 2026

Yesterday was my last day at Dream a Dream.

I did not expect to feel what I felt. Not sadness exactly something fuller. The way you feel at the end of a long journey when you are tired and grateful and a little disoriented at the same time. You have been moving so long that stillness feels strange.

I have been with Dream a Dream across two roles, multiple states, hundreds of training days, dozens of government meetings, and more than a few nights of wondering whether I was doing any of this right. I leave today not as the person who joined. I leave carrying things I did not even know I needed to learn.

This is my attempt to write those things down. Not as a summary of my work but as an honest account of what this organisation asked of me, and what I found in myself along the way.

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Where I Began and What I Thought I Already Knew

When I came to Dream a Dream, I had already worked in government education systems across Uttarakhand, Madhya Pradesh, and Delhi. I had coordinated learner assessments across 189 schools with Azim Premji Foundation. I had worked closely with SCERT Delhi under the Happiness Curriculum as a CMIE Fellow. I knew how to talk to officials. I knew how to design sessions. I thought I understood facilitation.

I did not.

What I understood was instruction. I knew how to prepare content and deliver it. I knew how to manage a room. But facilitation, real facilitation is something else entirely. It is not about what you say. It is about what you make possible for others to discover. That distinction took me years to truly feel in my body, not just understand in my head.

Dream a Dream did not teach me that through a module. It taught me through experience through rooms that did not respond the way I planned, through sessions that fell flat, through moments when I had to stop and ask myself: whose space is this really?

On Facilitation The Shift That Changed Everything

From delivering to holding

The biggest transformation in me over these years has been in how I understand my role in a room. I came in as someone who delivered training. I am leaving as someone who holds a space.

Those two things sound similar. They are not.

Delivering training means you have a design, a plan, objectives, content. You move people through it. You measure whether they understood. Holding a space means you enter the room with your full presence. You read the energy. You notice who is sitting forward and who has gone quiet. You feel when the group is on the surface and when something deeper is ready to emerge. And you make a choice about what to do with that.

This is not something you can teach someone in a training. It has to be lived. And for me, the living of it happened gradually — through the Anandam work in Uttarakhand, through the Happiness Curriculum trainings in Delhi, through the Punjab content team workshops, and most powerfully, through the Training of Trainers cycle that became a turning point in my facilitation journey this year.

The Jharkhand moment

One training I will carry for a long time was in Jharkhand a five-day programme for DIET faculty and School of Education Mentor Teachers. I went in with a design. But what happened in that room was bigger than the design.

I witnessed, firsthand, what strength-based facilitation actually does to people. When you stop focusing on their gaps and start building on what they already carry when you say, in effect, "you already have something valuable here, let us work from that" people open up in a way that deficit-based approaches never produce. They engage differently. They begin to trust themselves. The room shifts.

"I witnessed the power of strength-based facilitation how it works, how it fosters transformation, and how it creates a profound shift in mindset. When individuals recognise and leverage their strengths, they not only develop professionally but also contribute more effectively to the learning ecosystem around them."

That realisation has changed how I walk into every room now. I am no longer looking for what people do not know. I am looking for what they already carry that we can build from.

What the ToT gave me

The Training of Trainers programme this year addressed something I had been quietly struggling with: conducting effective debriefs. I could facilitate a session. But the debrief that crucial moment where experience is converted into learning — I often felt unsure in that space. Was I guiding too much? Not enough? Was I making it about my insight rather than theirs?

The ToT gave me a framework and, more importantly, gave me practice with feedback. By the end, I could sense group energy in a way I could not before. I could hold the space between experience and reflection without rushing to fill it with words. That is a small thing that is actually a very large thing.

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On Government Partnerships :- Learning That Systems Are Made of People

What Punjab really taught me

If I had to name the state that tested me most in this role, it would be Punjab. And I say that with genuine gratitude.

When we began the work there, there was a significant gap between what the state government wanted to do and what SCERT Punjab understood or owned. The programme had been initiated by the government without SCERT involvement. There was no shared budget. There was confusion about the purpose of life skills training versus academic training. Stakeholders were not aligned.

Earlier in my career, I would have treated this as a problem to solve quickly find the right meeting, make the right case, move the programme forward. Punjab taught me that this approach misses something essential.

"Initially, coordinating with stakeholders was a challenge. But after three to four meetings, I was able to establish a strong rapport. I listened to their concerns and validated the need by referencing the current state of Happiness Classrooms — something they were already familiar with."

What actually moved things was listening. Sitting with officials and genuinely trying to understand what they were worried about. What pressures they were under. What success looked like from where they stood. When I stopped trying to convince them and started trying to understand them, the conversations changed.

Slowly, stakeholders began to see that life skills education is not a distraction from academic outcomes. That a teacher who has never been genuinely listened to will struggle to create that space for students. That mindset-based curriculum has to be embodied it cannot just be delivered.

Sixteen teachers from Punjab went from being sceptical participants to active advocates for life skills. They now understand its significance and integrate it into how they develop curriculum. That did not happen because of a good presentation. It happened because of patience, presence, and genuine relationship.

The SCERT Uttarakhand years

Before Punjab, my deepest government partnership experience was in Uttarakhand — working with SCERT, FLN PMU, DIETs, and district officials on the Anandam Curriculum. This programme reached 19,000+ schools, 54,000+ teachers, and 0.6 million children.

Scale like that teaches you things that small pilots cannot. You learn how decisions made at the state level travel — or do not travel — to the district, then the block, then the school, then the classroom. You learn that the gap between policy intent and ground reality is almost always about people, not systems. About whether the district official genuinely believes in what they are implementing. About whether the teacher feels supported or just supervised.

I developed reflective school-visit tools during this period that tried to shift observation from compliance to support. Instead of "did the teacher follow the format?", the question became "what is the teacher struggling with, and how can we help?" That shift from inspector to companion is something I believe in deeply, and I carry it into every context I work in.

Delhi navigating a complex, multi-stakeholder city

Working in Delhi was a different kind of challenge. The Happiness Curriculum work, the School Mental Health Initiative, the B.Ed. and D.El.Ed. interventions — each of these required building trust with a different set of stakeholders who did not always know each other or share a common agenda.

What I learned in Delhi is that in a complex urban system, you have to be very intentional about how you frame the work. If you present life skills as something new and separate, it is seen as additional burden. If you present it as something that makes existing work more effective — that makes the Happiness Curriculum actually land, that makes teachers better at their jobs — then the conversation changes.

I also learned the value of thinking about how a programme survives your departure from it. Who will carry this after we leave? That question drove some of the most important strategic decisions I made in my last year.

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On the School Mental Health Initiative:- My Most Complex Work

The School Mental Health Initiative (SMHI) in Delhi was the most layered, demanding, and ultimately rewarding programme I worked on at Dream a Dream. I want to write about it in some detail because it taught me things I could not have learned anywhere else.

What the work actually involved

The SMHI programme involved building the capacity of psychologists from another organisation UWD Delhi who were working across government schools. My role was to help them understand how to deliver life skills in a school setting: specifically, how to design and deliver activities within a 35-minute classroom session, and how to think about their role not just as psychologists but as psychologist-educators.

These are two genuinely different identities. A psychologist in a clinic works with individual pathology. A psychologist-educator in a school works with the developmental needs of an entire classroom creating conditions for all children to feel safe, seen, and capable. The shift required is significant.

I began by going into classrooms and observing. I analysed the existing SMHI curriculum. I identified the gap: the activities were conceptually sound, but they were not structured for delivery in a real classroom in a real school in real time. There was no clear arc — no opening that created safety, no body that built on the opening, no closure that consolidated the experience.

The head-body-tail framework

Working with the SMHI psychologists, I introduced what I call the "head-body-tail" framework a simple facilitation arc that gives any session a clear beginning, middle, and end. The head creates safety and curiosity. The body is where the main experience happens. The tail is where experience is converted into reflection and learning.

More than 15 life skills activities from Dream a Dream's curriculum were restructured for the SMHI framework. I also co-developed an interpersonal skills module for students in Grades 6 to 12 with three SMHI psychologists — curating content, refining activity flow, ensuring the module was contextually relevant and practically usable within school hours.

The EVGC advocacy thinking about sustainability

One of my most important contributions to the SMHI work was a strategic one: I advocated strongly for the inclusion of government EVGCs Educational and Vocational Guidance Counsellors — as core participants in the training programme, alongside the SMHI psychologists.

The reason was simple: sustainability. If only external psychologists from a partner organisation are trained, the programme's survival depends on that partnership continuing. But EVGCs are government employees. They are in the system permanently. If they develop the capacity and the ownership, the programme has a chance of outliving our involvement.

Getting this accepted was not immediate. I had to build the case carefully articulate the rationale, align the programme's point person, build consensus before taking it to stakeholders. But it worked. The six-day training that followed included both groups, and something meaningful happened in that room.

"Psychologists and EVGCs gained a deeper understanding of the distinction between being a psychologist and being a psychologist-educator. They recognised that embracing vulnerability within themselves creates a space for others to do the same ultimately fostering a more open and supportive learning environment."

The Letter of Collaboration

I also took the lead on following up and securing a one-year Letter of Collaboration between Dream a Dream and the relevant government body. This is the kind of work that does not feel glamorous but is actually foundational. Without institutional backing, programmes float. They are always one budget cut or one staff change away from disappearing. The LoC was a small but real step toward embedding the work within the system.

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On Capacity Building:- What I Believe About How People Grow

One of the things I feel most strongly about, after these years, is the difference between training and a capacity-building journey.

Training is an event. You bring people together for one day or three days or five days. You deliver content. They go home. Maybe something sticks. Maybe it does not.

A capacity-building journey is something different. It is sustained engagement over time. It involves reflection between sessions. It builds on itself. It treats participants not as recipients of knowledge but as people with their own experience and wisdom that needs to be activated, not replaced.

This belief shaped everything I designed at Dream a Dream. The Anandam District Resource Groups in Uttarakhand were not just trained they were built into a support ecosystem that met regularly and held each other accountable. The Punjab content team workshops were not just about developing curriculum they were about helping teachers understand and embody the life skills lens before they could convey it to students. The SMHI training was not just skills transfer it was identity work.

"I believe lasting change happens when people feel heard, reflect on their practice, strengthen their skills alongside their sense of self, and take shared ownership of what they are building together."

That sentence has become something close to a personal philosophy. It is what I will carry into every programme I design from here.

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On Research and Documentation:- Finding My Voice

Somewhere in the middle of this journey, I discovered that I have something to say and that saying it in written form matters.

I used to think of documentation as reporting. Something you did because the organisation required it. A record of what happened. I have come to understand it as something much more valuable: a way of thinking. When you write about what you observed, you notice things you missed in the moment. When you articulate an insight, it becomes sharper. When you share it, it becomes part of something larger than your own experience.

This year, collaborating with the research team on a paper that went on to win first prize at an international conference was a genuinely new experience for me. Standing at a conference and presenting ground-level knowledge from Punjab,Uttarakhand and Delhi to audience I realised something. I carry knowledge that is not common. The things I have seen in classrooms, in district offices, in training rooms these are not things everyone has seen. They are worth articulating.

"Research became a powerful platform for me, allowing my work to be recognised and heard on an international stage. It reinforced the idea that ground-level knowledge when articulated clearly has the power to shift narratives."

I also wrote a blog this year a reflection on a significant facilitation experience that felt like a breakthrough in a different way. Not because it reached a large audience, but because writing it helped me understand what I actually believed. I will write more. That is a promise to myself.

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The Two Things I Am Still Working On

Learning to say no

My colleagues have told me — more than once, with genuine care that I say yes to too much. That I take on responsibilities that stretch me beyond my capacity. That I sometimes prioritise the system's urgency over my own wellbeing.

I am not going to pretend this is resolved. It is something I am actively working on. The tendency to be available, to be helpful, to not let people down these are not bad instincts. But when they override self-care, they become unsustainable. I have seen this in myself. I am listening to it more carefully now.

Learning to say no is not about doing less. It is about doing what matters with full presence, rather than doing everything with partial presence. That reframe has helped me.

Documenting more, and earlier

I said this to myself in my 2023-24 review. I am saying it again here because it is true: I document less than I should, and later than I should. The insights I have are real. The ground level knowledge I carry is valuable. But if it stays inside my head, it dies with the context it was born in.

This blog is part of my answer to that. But it is also a reminder to myself: next role, next programme, next learning write it down while it is fresh. Do not wait until the IPP review.

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The Moment I Will Not Forget

There are many moments from these years that I carry. But one stays with me above the others.

During the Baal Mela in Uttarakhand a children's fair where I was facilitating a session. I was in the middle of a debrief with a group of students. The children were expressing themselves openly. Not performing for a teacher. Not saying what they thought they should say. Just speaking about their feelings, their friendships, their worries, their dreams.

In the middle of this, the school principal walked in.

He stood at the back of the room and watched. He did not interrupt. He did not take out his phone. He just stood there, and I watched his face change. Something shifted in him a quiet recognition, a kind of surprise, maybe even emotion. After the session, he said that he had never seen students speak like that in a school setting. That in such an environment, children do not just participate. They thrive.

"That moment is why I do this work. Not for the data. Not for the reports. For that look on a principal's face when he sees a child being fully themselves in a classroom."

I will carry that moment into every room I enter from here.

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How I See Myself Today Standing at the Door

A few years ago, I was still trying to prove myself. To the system, to my team, to myself. I wanted to demonstrate that I was capable. That I belonged in these rooms. That my ideas had value.

Today I feel something quieter and more stable. Not certainty I do not think certainty is the right goal. But groundedness. A sense of knowing who I am when I walk into a room. What I believe about how people learn. What kind of presence I want to bring. What I am willing to stand for.

I know I am good at building trust with government stakeholders slowly, through genuine relationship, not through presentations. I know I am good at designing learning experiences that treat participants as whole people. I know I am good at reading a room and making real-time decisions that serve the group rather than the agenda. I know I am good at thinking about sustainability about what happens after the programme ends.

I also know I am still growing in my ability to hold strategic focus alongside operational demands. In my ability to delegate without anxiety. In my ability to say, clearly and kindly, "I cannot take this on right now."

Dream a Dream gave me the space to discover all of this the strengths and the edges. That is not a small gift. Most organisations give you a job description and a performance review. Dream a Dream gave me a mirror.

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Thank You

To this organisation for believing that education is about the whole child. For insisting that teachers are whole people too. For building a culture where reflection is not a sign of weakness but the foundation of good work.

To every colleague who shared a training room with me, sat in a difficult government meeting with me, pushed back on my ideas, celebrated a small win, or simply asked how I was doing thank you. You were my unsaid teachers.

To every government official who gave me time, even when they were sceptical. To every teacher who showed up to a training tired and left a little lighter. To every child who spoke freely in a room and did not know they were teaching me something.

"I am immensely grateful to all my unsaid mentors who have played a crucial role in my holistic growth walking alongside me with shared intent and approach."

I leave Dream a Dream as someone who knows, more than before, what I am here to do. Not just as a professional. As a person.

On to what comes next.

— Pawan Kumar Chaturvedi