I was a bad student. The kind who do everything but study all through the year. But I was held up as a role model to the rest of the class and my cousins (and heartily resented for it), because I was very good at exams.
I studied the examination system more seriously than my books. My success belonged more to strategizing and sheer luck than slogging-smart working as it is called these days. Yes, I seriously worked hard at getting marks, because my grades did matter a lot to me.
And like most parents, I resolved I would not bring up my daughters to do the same.
With them, I always emphasized that learning is more important than “mugging up and coughing out”. I’d prefer that they did reasonably well on their own, than “coming first” with spoon-fed answers and I never asked the teacher their “rank” in class compared to the others.
Yet, when Elena showed me her test answer papers with 23½ out of 25 in four out of five of them-I couldn’t help asking:
Why? When you know everything?
These are just test marks, I do know the answers and that is more important.
So why didn’t you just check the paper before handing it in? These are just careless mistakes that you could have corrected.
I had to go for choir practice so I finished as fast as I could.
Looking at my expression, she sat down to explain:
Mamma, these tests keep happening all around the year, but the Speech day happens only once. Also these marks are not so important, because I do know everything. My Ma’am also knows that I know.
A theatrical pause and then the punch line:
And you know Mamma, there are so many kids in my class who have actually Failed!
Unsaid: See, you lucky you are? And stop cribbing about the 1½ points.
I know she is right.
But the Mom in me still wants her to do better. Am I wrong?
