Little Belle's Mama

A post has been going around lately—written by a Filipino teacher—that struck a chord with many. It speaks about the frustration of not being able to discipline students anymore without being labeled abusive, of feeling powerless, of fearing backlash for simply doing what was once considered “normal.” The post paints a picture of a generation that’s overly sensitive and entitled. It ends with a warning: good luck in the future, because these fragile kids will soon run the world.

It was emotional. I get why it resonated. But I don’t agree with it.

I’m not a teacher. I lead people—young and old, experienced and just starting out, cooperative and difficult. And in many ways, the same frustrations apply in the workplace. You see people slacking off, missing deadlines, behaving in ways you wouldn’t have dared in your early days, and you want to snap. You want to discipline, to call out, to correct in the moment. But the rules have changed. Not just legally, but culturally.

Still, I don’t believe the answer is to complain that “you can’t say anything anymore.” You can—you just have to say it better.

The teacher in the post talks about wanting to tear up a student’s cheat sheet, but stopping in fear they might go viral on TikTok, or develop depression. They wanted to scold students for being loud during an exam, but held back—worried someone might cry “abuse.” So they smiled instead and gave up. To me, that isn’t the fault of society. That’s a failure of leadership.

Because leadership isn’t about snapping. It’s about knowing when, where, and how to correct.

Correcting someone privately isn’t weakness. It’s respect. And respect goes both ways. If you want it from others—whether they’re students or staff—you need to model it yourself. Pull someone aside. Ask questions. Set boundaries. Be firm. But don’t humiliate. That’s not discipline. That’s ego.

And it’s strange to me that people still romanticize the harsh treatment they got growing up. “Luhod sa asin.” “Batok ng eraser.” “Tadyak ni Ma’am.” As if pain built character. But did it really? Or did it just teach us to fear authority and hide our mistakes better?

When someone says “we survived that, so it must have worked,” I wonder—did we really survive it? Or did we just carry the damage forward and call it tradition?

Today, people have names for things we didn’t. Anxiety. Burnout. Trauma. They were always there—we just didn’t have the language. And now that we do, some call it weakness. I call it awareness. And I think awareness makes us better leaders.

Here’s what I’ve learned in managing teams: if someone makes a mistake, you don’t need to raise your voice. You don’t need to embarrass them in a meeting. You don’t need to say, “Back in my day…” You talk. You guide. You ask. You hold them accountable, but you also try to understand.

And yes, it’s harder. It takes more patience. More emotional energy. More maturity. But that’s the price of leadership. You don’t earn respect just by having a title. You earn it by the way you handle difficult moments.

The viral post also makes a point that students are “allergic to correction.” I’ve heard that about young professionals too. “Ayaw mapagsabihan.” “Di marunong makinig.” But here’s what I’ve seen: they will listen—if you speak to them with intention instead of reaction.

It’s easy to call someone entitled. It’s harder to ask if maybe they just weren’t taught how to receive feedback the right way—and maybe it’s our job to show them.

When people know you have their growth in mind, they want to improve. But when they feel you just want to put them in their place, they shut down. That’s not softness. That’s self-protection.

Now, let’s be fair. I don’t think the teacher meant to say we should go back to the days of physical punishment. They were venting. Feeling unheard. Unsupported. And I sympathize with that. Teachers today are underpaid, overworked, and expected to do everything—not just teach, but parent, motivate, inspire, discipline, and heal. That’s a lot. So yes, let’s talk about teacher protection too. Let’s create systems that back up educators who do things the right way.

But let’s not confuse leadership with control.

Let’s not wish fear back into our schools and offices just because it makes things more “manageable.”

Let’s not paint this generation as hopeless when they’re simply more aware, more expressive, and more demanding of fairness than we were allowed to be.

Let’s not call them weak just because they won’t accept the pain we were told to swallow.

Because if they really are the future, then maybe our job isn’t to scold them for being different.

Maybe it’s to lead better than we were led.

That means we need to listen more. Speak more carefully. Correct with respect. Be consistent. Be fair. And yes, be firm. But never cruel.

Discipline without dignity is just punishment. And punishment without purpose is just pain.

You can call someone out without calling them names. You can set rules without raising your voice. You can lead people—even young people—with compassion and still earn their respect.

And if you feel that people today are “allergic to correction,” ask yourself first: are you correcting to help—or just to vent?

In the end, I don’t want a generation that’s afraid of authority. I want one that understands why the rules matter. That requires more than scolding. It requires connection. And if that makes the job harder, so be it.

No one said leadership would be easy.

But if we truly care about the future, we won’t try to scare it straight.

We’ll guide it forward.

One honest conversation at a time.