When tragedy strikes, finding someone to blame may be our first reaction. But if we want to reduce the risk of future tragedies, we must look beyond blame and examine how we raise, guide and protect our children. Finger pointing will not protect our children.
Every time a tragedy involving children makes the headlines, we are overcome with grief, disbelief and anger. When a young life is lost, particularly in circumstances where another young person is suspected of causing that death, the questions become even more painful.
Recent reports involving the death of a 16-year-old girl in Batu Pahat and an earlier killing involving another adolescent girl at school have once again left Malaysians asking how such tragedies could happen. Especially in Malaysia, where people in general are known to be gentle, kind and warm-hearted. Were warning signs missed? Could someone have intervened? What could have been done differently?
Almost immediately, fingers are pointed at schools, teachers, the Ministry of Education and the government. Some blame inadequate supervision, while others question school safety or demand the resignation of those in authority. I understand the anger. When something terrible happens to a child, we want answers and we want someone to take responsibility. But finger-pointing, however understandable, will not bring back the children we have lost, nor will it necessarily reduce the risk of another tragedy.
This does not mean those responsible should escape accountability. If there has been negligence, it must be investigated and addressed. If systems have failed, they must be improved. Accountability and finger-pointing are not the same thing. One seeks answers and corrective action; the other often ends with accusations.
Before the public debate overwhelms everything else, however, we must remember the families whose lives have been shattered. My heart goes out to the parents who have lost their children. No parent sends a child to school expecting that child never to return. The grief, the unanswered questions and the unbearable thought of what might have been done differently are burdens no family should have to carry.
I also think about the parents of children accused of committing such terrible acts. Imagine discovering that the child you raised, loved and had such high hopes for is suspected of taking another person’s life. Alongside shock and disbelief may come shame, guilt and the agonising question: Where did we go wrong?
The suffering of these families is not the same. Acknowledging the pain of one must never diminish the loss suffered by another, nor does compassion excuse wrongdoing or remove the need for justice. Yet I believe that no responsible parent raises a child with the intention of having that child harm another human being. We raise our children with hopes and dreams, wanting them to become decent, responsible and compassionate individuals. Unfortunately, love and good intentions alone do not guarantee that children will always make good choices.
This brings me to a question I believe deserves far more attention: Are we doing enough to equip parents for the increasingly complex responsibility of raising children?
Our Children Are Growing Up in a Different World
We often hear the saying that it takes a village to raise a child. Today, that village has expanded far beyond our neighbourhoods. Children are influenced not only by their parents, teachers and friends, but also by celebrities, online influencers, gaming communities, social media platforms and algorithms that determine what appears on their screens. Some of these influences are positive, while others may normalise aggression, cruelty, unhealthy comparisons and dangerous behaviour.
In earlier generations, parents generally knew where their children spent their time and had some idea of whom they were mixing with. Today, a child can be sitting in the bedroom while interacting with strangers thousands of kilometres away, encountering disturbing material or absorbing ideas that parents may know nothing about. The digital world has entered our homes, whether we welcome it or not.
Many parents underestimate how profoundly this environment can shape children’s thinking, feelings and behaviour. Social media, gaming platforms and online communities are not merely sources of entertainment. They can influence children’s relationships, values, identity and understanding of the world. Algorithms add another dimension because the more children engage with certain content, the more similar content they may be shown. Repeated exposure can reinforce particular attitudes and beliefs, sometimes without children realising how their online environment is being shaped.
Of course, not everything children encounter online is harmful. Digital media also provides opportunities for learning, creativity, friendship and personal development. The challenge for parents is to understand both its benefits and its risks.
Malaysian research gives us some insight into how parents are responding. Mohamed, Wan Ghazali and Mohd Nasir (2024) surveyed 645 Malaysian parents about their children’s digital media use. Parents recognised benefits such as learning and communication, but they also expressed concerns about excessive screen time, inappropriate content and reduced physical activity. The study also found that parents’ perceptions differed according to factors including education, income and children’s ages. Clearly, not all families have the same knowledge, resources or confidence when navigating the digital world.
What concerns me even more is the possibility that parents may not fully understand what their children are experiencing online.
What Do Parents Really Know?
Consider two Malaysian studies on cyberbullying. Mohd Fadhli and colleagues (2022) studied 1,290 secondary-school adolescents aged 13 to 17 in Peninsular Malaysia and found that 13.7% reported experiencing cyberbullying. That’s roughly one in seven teenagers.
In a separate study involving 522 parents of secondary-school students in Selangor, Ghazali and colleagues (2025) found that only 2.5% of parents reported that their children had experienced cyberbullying. That’s approximately one in 40 parents. The researchers suggested that the low percentage might reflect underreporting or a lack of parental awareness.
These figures cannot be compared directly because the studies involved different participants, locations and methods. They did not examine the same parent–child pairs, so the difference cannot be treated as a direct measure of how many parents were unaware of their children’s experiences. Nevertheless, considered together, the findings raise a question worth asking: How much do we really know about what our children experience online?
Perhaps our children do not tell us everything because they are afraid of being scolded, having their phones confiscated or being told that they should never have been online in the first place. Perhaps they feel that we would not understand, or perhaps we simply do not know what questions to ask.
We may have rules about screen time and occasionally check their devices, but how much do we know about the people they interact with, the content they encounter, the pressures they experience and the questions they are afraid to ask? We may know where our children are physically, but do we know what they are going through emotionally?
This is not simply a question of monitoring their digital activities. It is also a question of communication, trust and the quality of our relationships with them.
Living Under the Same Roof Is Not Enough
From my experience working with parents, I have seen how many struggle when their children enter adolescence. The parenting approaches that worked when children were five may no longer work when they are fifteen. Yet many parents continue using the same methods, becoming increasingly frustrated when their children stop responding as they once did.
The child who once talked endlessly now answers in monosyllables. Conversations become arguments, with parents complaining that their teenagers no longer listen while teenagers complain that their parents do not understand. Often, both sides feel unheard.
I do not doubt that most parents love their children. They work hard to provide food, clothing, education and opportunities, and many sacrifice their own comforts to give their children a better future. But providing for children and connecting with them are not necessarily the same thing.
We may assume that because our children live under the same roof, eat at the same table and see us every day, we know what is happening in their lives. Yet I have encountered parents who are genuinely surprised to discover how little they know about their teenagers’ friendships, worries, online experiences and struggles. A teenager may be sitting in the living room, only a few metres away from Mum and Dad, while sharing deeply personal concerns with someone online whom the parents have never met.
A Malaysian study by Aini and colleagues (2024), involving interviews with 20 Muslim parents in Peninsular Malaysia, identified several approaches parents used to communicate with their teenagers. These included spending quality time together, providing consistent guidance, setting good examples, incorporating religious values and using digital media to stay connected. The researchers also identified challenges such as time constraints, outside influences and difficulties understanding teenagers.
The lesson here is that meaningful communication requires effort. It cannot be reduced to giving instructions, asking about homework or reminding children of their responsibilities. As children grow, parenting must evolve. We cannot continue treating a sixteen-year-old as though the child were six.
Teenagers need increasing independence, but they still need guidance. They need boundaries, but they also need explanations and parents who listen, even when they disagree. Most importantly, they need to know that when something goes wrong, they can approach their parents without immediately being shouted at, humiliated or condemned.
If children expect every uncomfortable disclosure to be met with anger or punishment, they may learn to hide their problems rather than seek our help. A close relationship does not mean allowing children to do whatever they please. It means maintaining the trust that allows us to guide them, particularly when they face difficult choices.
The Home Is the First School
We often say that the home is the first school and parents are the first teachers. But have we really considered what that means?
Long before children enter a classroom, they have already begun learning about relationships, respect, anger, empathy, honesty and responsibility. Much of this learning takes place through observation. Children learn how to handle disagreements by watching how adults disagree. They learn about kindness by observing how we treat others, and they learn how to express anger from the way we express ours.
We cannot expect schools to teach respect while children routinely witness contempt at home. We cannot demand that teachers eliminate bullying while dismissing our own children’s cruelty as harmless teasing. This does not mean every child who behaves badly comes from a troubled home. Human behaviour is far more complex than that, and children have different temperaments, experiences and influences, many of which are beyond parental control.
Nevertheless, parents have a foundational responsibility that cannot simply be delegated to schools. We need to teach empathy deliberately, helping children understand how their words and actions affect others. We need to teach them how to manage anger, disappointment, jealousy and rejection without hurting people.
We must also help them develop sound judgement, not merely demand obedience. A child who follows instructions only out of fear may struggle to make good decisions when no adult is watching. This requires parents to listen as well as guide. If every conversation becomes a lecture, children may eventually stop talking, and when that happens, we lose an important opportunity to understand what they are experiencing and offer guidance before problems become more serious.
Parents Need Education Too
We should continue demanding improvements in school safety, safeguarding procedures and institutional accountability. But meaningful policy changes can take time, particularly when political considerations influence decisions. Meanwhile, our children continue to grow, and their needs cannot wait. That is why I believe parenting education must become a priority rather than an afterthought.
Think about it. Teachers undergo training before entering the classroom. Doctors spend years acquiring the knowledge and skills needed to care for patients. Most professions require some form of preparation. Yet when it comes to one of the most consequential responsibilities in life, raising another human being, we often assume that instinct, love and personal experience are enough. They are important, of course, but they are not always sufficient.
The challenges of raising a toddler are different from those of raising a ten-year-old. Parenting a primary-school child is not the same as guiding a teenager who is developing an identity, questioning expectations and seeking greater independence. Parents need to understand these developmental changes and learn how to communicate in age-appropriate ways, establish reasonable boundaries, manage conflict and gradually help children become responsible for their own decisions.
Today, parenting education must also include digital literacy. Knowing how to operate a smartphone does not necessarily mean understanding how algorithms, online communities, influencers and social media shape children’s attitudes and behaviour.
Recent Malaysian research supports the need for more accessible parenting education. Mohamed and colleagues (2025) examined the development of a culturally grounded digital parenting initiative in Malaysia. Their research included a survey of 240 Malaysian parents and focus group discussions. Parents reported difficulties managing screen time, online risks and harmful content. The study also identified a need for practical, accessible resources, including short visual materials, expert-led question-and-answer sessions, age-specific guidance and opportunities to learn from other parents.
To me, this suggests that many parents are not necessarily unwilling to learn. They need relevant information, practical guidance and opportunities to develop their skills. Unfortunately, parenting education is still often treated as something parents seek only when problems arise.
We attend classes to prepare for childbirth and read books about caring for babies. But how many of us actively seek guidance on parenting a ten-year-old, a thirteen-year-old or a sixteen-year-old? Parenting education should not end when a child is born. It should continue as the child grows.
Schools can collaborate with parents to organise programmes that address real challenges, while parent–teacher associations can go beyond discussing examinations, fundraising and school activities. Employers, community organisations, religious institutions and government agencies can also play a role in making parenting education more accessible. These programmes need not be complicated or expensive. What matters is that they are practical, relevant and grounded in a sound understanding of child development and family relationships.
Parents themselves must also be willing to learn. Attending a parenting course is not an admission of failure. It is a recognition that raising children is a responsibility worth preparing for.
Of course, parenting education cannot guarantee that every child will grow up without problems. Even loving, knowledgeable and attentive parents cannot predict or control every decision their children make. But better-equipped parents may be more prepared to recognise difficulties, respond appropriately, maintain meaningful relationships and provide the guidance children need. We may not be able to eliminate every risk, but we can work towards reducing them.
Less Blame, More Action
When tragedy strikes, it is natural to ask what went wrong. We should ask difficult questions, and those who have neglected their responsibilities must be held accountable. But once the investigations are completed and public anger begins to subside, what happens next? Do we return to our usual routines until another tragedy makes the headlines?
I hope not.
If we genuinely want to protect our children, we need to look beyond individual incidents and examine the wider environment in which they are growing up. Schools must provide safe environments, authorities must strengthen policies and ensure they are implemented, communities must become more attentive, and digital platforms must take their responsibilities seriously. Families must not be forgotten in this collective effort.
We cannot leave everything to teachers, just as we cannot expect parents to shoulder every responsibility alone. Raising and protecting children requires a collective effort, with each party fulfilling its responsibilities. Yet there is one place where we can begin making a difference without waiting for policy reforms or government decisions: our own homes.
We can learn to communicate more effectively with our children, make an effort to understand their world, including their digital experiences, and teach empathy, self-control and responsible decision-making. We can become more approachable so that our children know they can turn to us when they need help. Most importantly, we can stop assuming that becoming a parent automatically equips us with everything we need to know about raising children.
The home is the first school. It is where children first learn how to treat others, manage their emotions, respond to disappointment and distinguish right from wrong. But if the home is the first school, who prepares parents to become the first teachers?
This is a question we need to take seriously. Parenting education is not simply about helping individual families. Its influence extends much further, because the children we raise today will become tomorrow’s friends, colleagues, spouses, parents and leaders.
We cannot bring back the children we have lost, nor can we guarantee that such tragedies will never happen again. But we can learn from what has happened and take meaningful steps to reduce the risks. Finger-pointing will not get us very far. We need accountability where there has been wrongdoing, but we also need to reduce the risk of future tragedies by strengthening families, improving school safety, supporting communities and equipping parents with the knowledge and skills to raise children in a world that has changed dramatically.
If we truly want to protect our children, we must spend less time deciding whom to blame and more time asking what we can do differently. Parenting education is one place where we can begin. We cannot afford to wait for another tragedy before taking it seriously.
References
Aini, Z., Mohd Hamzah Murghayah, S. K., Ismail, S., Usman, A. H., & Shbair, A. (2024). Methods of communication between Muslim parents and teenagers in Malaysia. Islamiyyat, 46(2), 51–65. https://ejournal.ukm.my/islamiyyat/article/view/81152
Ghazali, S. A., Bakar, R. S., Berahim @ Ab. Rahman, A., & Sulaiman, Z. (2025). Factors related to parental perceptions and awareness of adolescent cyberbullying in Selangor, Malaysia. IIUM Medical Journal Malaysia, 24(2).
https://journals.iium.edu.my/kom/index.php/imjm/article/view/2701
Mohamed, S., Wan Ghazali, W. N., & Mohd Nasir, N. S. (2024). Navigating digital risks and benefits: Malaysian parents’ perceptions of their children’s digital media usage. e-Bangi: Journal of Social Sciences & Humanities, 21(1), 135–146. https://doi.org/10.17576/ebangi.2024.2101.12
Mohamed, S., Janon, N. S., Yusoh, M. H., Salleh, N., Mohd Nasir, N. S., & Wan Mohd Ghazali, W. N. (2025). Designing and evaluating a culturally grounded digital parenting initiative in Malaysia. Intellectual Discourse, 33(3). https://doi.org/10.31436/id.v33i3.2433
Mohd Fadhli, S. A., Liew Suet Yan, J., Ab Halim, A. S., Ab Razak, A., & Ab Rahman, A. (2022). Finding the link between cyberbullying and suicidal behaviour among adolescents in Peninsular Malaysia. Healthcare, 10(5), 856. https://doi.org/10.3390/healthcare10050856
Featured image by Geralt on Pixabay
