The rule is almost too simple to take seriously: every student plants and looks after a tree. No certificate, no ceremony — just a sapling, a child, and a patch of ground that becomes theirs to tend.

The lesson runs deeper than the canopy. A tree is a slow promise. It asks a child to think in seasons rather than days, and to come back and check on something that will not reward them straight away.
Along the embankments those roots do practical work too, holding soil that the monsoon would otherwise wash away. A schoolyard grows shadier each year; a riverbank grows a little steadier.

We do not pretend a tree solves poverty. But a generation that spends its school years caring for something living tends to carry that habit forward — into farms, households, and the next patch of ground they are handed.
