It was painful when the other day I went to my boy’s school where he had completed Class 10, seeking admission to Plus-Two in a science course of his interest. The Principal, one who had seemingly lost her smile long ago, with a gesture of indifference looked over her glasses the marks my son had secured and made her observation: ‘You see… your son can’t enter the science stream as he has got low marks in Mathematics. I think he can study Commerce (as if the Commerce group is meant for unsuccessful mathematicians). Hence, apply for the Commerce course or apply for the Transfer Certificate and leave the school.” This is how she summed it up.
The lines looked so simple. But consider the feelings of a child who has studied in a school for such a long time, and now he has been told the school he thought he belonged to and the uniform that he wore for about a decade does not belong to him anymore.
There is today a culture of glorifying only students who have secured relatively high marks in the subjects of ‘greater order of significance’. It is hard to think how anyone can decide a student cannot study asubject because the marks in the particular subject are ‘low’. Don’t they know of the many scientists who had been just ordinary students? Who are we to write off someone’s destiny?
Only negatives
It was amusing to watch the teachers competing with one another to tell me what my child lacked in, rather than what he had in him. Is it not the purpose of education to explore the weaknesses of students or to help them overcome them through constant support and encouragement? I asked them to be kind and not inflict further damage with their words. I told the teachers I still believed he was capable of achieving what his destiny had in store for him. I left with the TC into the world of chaos.
Now, my child, who had until then been a silent spectator, asked me with tears in his eyes: ‘How come dad, you have such faith in my future when all my teachers express hopelessness? To this, I answered in humility: ‘Dear boy… these are the teachers who told me I would fail in Class 10, but I proved them wrong by becoming a university teacher. But I remain thankful to them for having caused in me a force that refused to surrender to external limitations. Hence, when I find you now in the same situation, my faith and confidence in you grow phenomenally. Move on, dear son, to prove that they are wrong.
The author is Professor of English at the University of Jazan, Saudi Arabia. sat.ansari@yahoo.com
