Amara is looking for its CMO.

Amara has a seat at its leadership table that has never been filled: a CMO who crafts our story and spreads it worldwide.

A two-minute invitation from Minal

Before you read on, hear it from our co-founder: why this seat matters, and what it’s like to sit at our table.

We have built a lot. What we have not yet built is one clear voice for all of it.

We are looking for someone who can zoom into the words on a banner at our garba, and zoom out to the strategic idea of who we are. Often on the same day.

Over many years, Amara has grown into several schools, more than a million square feet of built space, and a life that stretches from India to the United States.

Our messages are many. Our brands are scattered. And the meaning that holds everything together lives mostly in the heads of the people who built it.

We are looking for someone to collate those meanings, distill them into one living architecture, and spread it, consistently and continuously, to everyone who needs to hear it. Inside our own walls and beyond them.

Illustration from ReSchool: a hill of school life, PTMs, games, assemblies and circulars, under the words Everything is marketing

This is not a whim.

Our co-founder Minal Desai wrote a book about this way of thinking. ReSchool argues that everything a school does, from the way it answers the phone to the length of its speeches, tells people who it is.

Who you would sit beside

Most people, if they are lucky, find a good boss or a good team. But the rarest of the rare find peers who challenge you, hold you accountable, and remain people you can trust for a lifetime. That is a precious thing in a working life, and it is what we offer.

Shivani ma’am

Leads a school of a thousand students with rare empathy. Every single week she writes a letter, so that parents, students, and teachers always know what the school truly stands for.

Manishbhai

More than thirty-five years with the group. Not our finance person so much as our auditor in chief, the reason not a single rupee is spent on anything it shouldn’t be.

This is not a comfortable table. It is a table where you will be sharpened.

Moved by this? Here is what the job actually is.

Don’t send us just a resume. Send us a video.

Two minutes. Your face, your voice. Tell us why this seat is yours, and show us one thing you’ve made that you’re proud of.

Want to know more about the group before you apply? Reach out to Anusha, someone you will share the table with.

Email it to anusha.sharma@teamamara.com

Upload your video to YouTube (as unlisted), Google Drive or Loom, and paste the link in your email. Make sure anyone with the link can view it.

A letter from Shivani ma’am

Discipline does not come with ponytails alone

The news from the world of education lately has been difficult to read. A professor in Ahmedabad caught on camera holding the collar of a student who had mocked him. An IIT Bombay student died by suicide following an examination incident involving the use of AI, raising serious questions about how academic integrity, discipline and student distress intersect. The circumstances of each case is different, and some are still being investigated, but together they leave you deeply uncomfortable about the spaces in which we are entrusted with young people.

I also think we have to acknowledge that discipline and behaviour are getting harder. The situations we once associated largely with high school are now appearing in middle school, and behaviours that we would have expected to address in middle school are showing up in primary. Children are growing up in a world that is faster, louder and far more exposed than the one many of us experienced. Their influences are different, their access to information is different and, in many ways, their emotional worlds are more complex much earlier.

The question for us, therefore, cannot simply be, “How do we make children behave?” It has to be, “What kind of discipline are we trying to build?”

At GGIS, I have always believed that discipline must eventually become self-awareness. If a child behaves only because a teacher is watching, we have created compliance. If a student knows exactly what to say because they know which answer will keep them out of trouble, we have taught them how to navigate authority. But if I can sit across from a student, look them in the eye and have them tell me the truth about what happened, even when the truth is uncomfortable, that is discipline.

It is the same reason I think of that beautiful moment when a student forgets her speech on stage and 200 children sit quietly and wait for her to gather herself and continue. Not one giggle. Not one whisper. Not one child trying to make her moment harder.

That is discipline. No teacher needed to threaten them. No consequence was hanging over their heads. They understood what the moment required of them, and they chose to give it.

That is the discipline I want us to recognise more often. It is not always the perfectly quiet classroom or the impeccably presented child.

Discipline does not come with ponytails alone. It is what happens behind closed doors. It is whether you tell the truth when nobody can prove otherwise. Whether you can walk away when someone provokes you. Whether you can disagree without humiliating another person. Whether you can acknowledge that you were wrong. Whether you can see that your actions have affected someone else.

This is also why I believe that connection and correction cannot be separated.

We will have to correct children. We will have to hold boundaries. There will be moments when behaviour is unacceptable and consequences are necessary. But the objective cannot be to produce children who are afraid of getting caught. The objective has to be to help them develop an internal compass that eventually makes the adult standing beside them unnecessary.

And perhaps this is where the responsibility becomes even greater for us as adults. We are also carrying a lot.

Last Saturday, I attended a session by a life coach at AMA, and one line she shared stayed with me: “It is a privilege to be in a space where you can make others feel heard.” I have been thinking about that line ever since. Perhaps that is one of the quiet privileges of working in a school. We get to be present while people are becoming. We get to influence not just what children know, but how they understand themselves and how they learn to treat other people.

For me, the real measure of discipline at GGIS will never be how well children obey us when we are present. It will be what they choose to do when we are not present. Behind closed doors. In the absence of an authority figure.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t have consequences. We file incident reports, call parents to school on red flag issues once in a while and counsel the child on a regular basis. Its daily grind. And something we don’t always enjoy doing.

However, we don’t give up on the child. That is the harder work. It takes longer. It requires patience from adults to bring honesty from children. But if we can build that kind of self-awareness, then perhaps we are doing something far more meaningful than simply maintaining discipline.

We are helping children learn to govern themselves.

And in a world where we cannot always be there to tell them what to do, that may be one of the most important things a school can give them.

Love, Light and Luck,
Shivani M.

From ReSchool, by Minal Desai

Everything is marketing

I borrowed this chapter and the basic idea of this book from Rework, a fantastic book written for tech startups by Jason Fried and David Heinemeier Hansson, founders of Basecamp.

If you meet half a dozen mothers in any city, they will give you a complete picture of what most schools in the city stand for. School A is strict and disciplinarian, B is artsy, C is academic-focused, D is sports-oriented, etc.

If you look at their campuses or websites, they will all have similar messages. They will all be claiming to provide a good, holistic education with the same or similar boards. But the mothers, the most conscious consumer in this case, have sensed what they have not written on the billboard yet.

Even if you don’t indulge in advertising campaigns, your brand is being built by your actions. People are always slotting and categorizing things to make sense of the world around them. It is natural to do so, and we need to take charge of how we want to be perceived.

So the next time you are planning an event or sending out a circular, you might want to pause and ask yourself, what will this communicate about my school? Can I change it to be more resonant with what I believe in?

For instance, I hate long, wordy, convoluted sentences that require a Master’s in English to make sense of. Hence, all of our communication, including this book, tries to use as simple words as possible.

Similarly, I get extremely frustrated with long speeches at annual events that go on forever and are supposed to inspire students but almost always put them to sleep. So, our events rarely have speeches or chief guests, and if they do, the speech is never longer than 5-7 minutes. We value our parents’ time. This markets our school as one that keeps it simple and clear. They keep it that way for us too.

Everything we do or don’t do is marketing. From the way we answer our phones to the way we greet our students on campus to the books we prescribe as a part of our syllabus to the events we conduct. We are always being observed. Be aware of it and try to find a niche message that resonates with what you want to say.

We are a school that focuses on being learners at heart who follow great habits. We proudly put up on our websites that we are all works in progress. We celebrate the idea of not knowing it all and being dependent on each other to grow. We instill leadership qualities in our staff and students sincerely. Our admission forms ask parents for instances of their lives when they experienced growth and realized they were a work-in- progress. We ask if their child has shown any leadership qualities beyond academics. This helps parents know who we are. Our admission form is our marketing. Everything is marketing.

From ReSchool: Ideas for New Age Schooling, the chapter on marketing.

A story about Manishbhai

The scrap heap

One Diwali, as part of the yearly cleaning, our support staff cleared out years of junk lying around the campuses. Broken furniture, old fittings, things no one had looked at in a long time. It all went into a heap outside the gate, waiting to be taken away.

Manishbhai walked past it and stopped.

Some of that junk was metal. And metal, he knew, is never really junk.

So he had it hauled back inside. He called three or four scrap dealers, compared their offers, and took the best one. Then he deposited the money in the company’s accounts as income.

Nobody had asked him to. Nobody would have known if he hadn’t. We only found out when the entry appeared in the books.

That is Manishbhai. After thirty-five years, he still treats every rupee as if it were entrusted to him personally. Because to him, it is. It’s thanks to him that the whole group can be sure every rupee is spent with integrity.