"I got A+ in English, and aunty said very good for one of my essays," my son said with a broad smile. My heart jumped with joy. In the previous exam, the first he was writing in his 9 years of schooling as the initial years were in Montessori, he had shocked me when he said, "They asked me to write what I want to be in 20 years. I wrote, cricketer. What ma, they gave 20 lines to write! What am I supposed to write for 20 lines?"
"So you wrote one word?" I asked incredulously.
"Not one word, I wrote one line," he corrected me. "I wrote, 'I want to become a cricketer 20 years from now.'"
I did chuckle at this pedantry. But no, this will not do sonny... "You had even prepared a speech on Ravichandran Ashwin earlier and how he inspires you! You could have written something about that!"
Read, read more, and learn to write. I don't know if he took me seriously or not. I may be a pushy mother expecting them to work hard, but I don't push myself so much that I know whether they are working hard or not!
So, naturally, this A+ was a surprise, and a pleasant one at that.
My older daughter also showed me her paper proudly. "I was the only one to get a good for my essay in this FA (tests given without prior notice)..." It was no surprise in her case for she is more in tune with the system and has been doing well.
I sat down to read the two papers and my heart sank. "What is the spelling for 'break (brake!)'" I asked my son. "And 'watever'? Wan't! What's that?" He chuckled, looked suitably sheepish, and that was the end of my making him aware of his errors.
As I read my daughter's paper, I called her and spoke to her about her shaky sentence construction and how to improve it. I could see her face change to disappointment and her manner becoming distant.Then she walked out on me mid-sentence, complaining, "How am I supposed to know that? Aunty has not said anything!"
Yes, that was true, and I wasn't about to complain about the teacher. In the short stint as a teacher, I had realised that it is hard to make children learn every nuance of any language and you must turn a blind eye to a few things. But as a mother, I couldn't.
What upset me was her walking away instead of asking me how to improve. But she wasn't even around for me to communicate that displeasure.
A few minutes in the kitchen gave me time to think and calm me. I was acting like the mothers they show in ads - not congratulating the child on his or her getting 95 but asking instead 'where did the 5 marks go?'
I coaxed her out of the mood once I was able to better my mood.
It is not about losing marks as much as finding out why one lost the marks. Can you see how to bridge that gap? An exam done is a past that cannot be brought back. But can we learn what we missed learning earlier?
It is not always 95. The base is 60 or 70 from where you try to move up. Don't try to jump from 60 to 100. But 60 to 70 should be possible, right? Next, move up from 70 to 80? That's what we need in life too, don't we? Break problems into manageable parts and solve each bit?
Secondly, to let them know that that 60 or 70 counts. Yes, it matters... Because it is not about the marks. It is about the knowing. That you know so much!
And with a bit of effort, you can know that much more...
"So you wrote one word?" I asked incredulously.
"Not one word, I wrote one line," he corrected me. "I wrote, 'I want to become a cricketer 20 years from now.'"
I did chuckle at this pedantry. But no, this will not do sonny... "You had even prepared a speech on Ravichandran Ashwin earlier and how he inspires you! You could have written something about that!"
Read, read more, and learn to write. I don't know if he took me seriously or not. I may be a pushy mother expecting them to work hard, but I don't push myself so much that I know whether they are working hard or not!
So, naturally, this A+ was a surprise, and a pleasant one at that.
My older daughter also showed me her paper proudly. "I was the only one to get a good for my essay in this FA (tests given without prior notice)..." It was no surprise in her case for she is more in tune with the system and has been doing well.
I sat down to read the two papers and my heart sank. "What is the spelling for 'break (brake!)'" I asked my son. "And 'watever'? Wan't! What's that?" He chuckled, looked suitably sheepish, and that was the end of my making him aware of his errors.
As I read my daughter's paper, I called her and spoke to her about her shaky sentence construction and how to improve it. I could see her face change to disappointment and her manner becoming distant.Then she walked out on me mid-sentence, complaining, "How am I supposed to know that? Aunty has not said anything!"
Yes, that was true, and I wasn't about to complain about the teacher. In the short stint as a teacher, I had realised that it is hard to make children learn every nuance of any language and you must turn a blind eye to a few things. But as a mother, I couldn't.
What upset me was her walking away instead of asking me how to improve. But she wasn't even around for me to communicate that displeasure.
A few minutes in the kitchen gave me time to think and calm me. I was acting like the mothers they show in ads - not congratulating the child on his or her getting 95 but asking instead 'where did the 5 marks go?'
I coaxed her out of the mood once I was able to better my mood.
It is not about losing marks as much as finding out why one lost the marks. Can you see how to bridge that gap? An exam done is a past that cannot be brought back. But can we learn what we missed learning earlier?
It is not always 95. The base is 60 or 70 from where you try to move up. Don't try to jump from 60 to 100. But 60 to 70 should be possible, right? Next, move up from 70 to 80? That's what we need in life too, don't we? Break problems into manageable parts and solve each bit?
Secondly, to let them know that that 60 or 70 counts. Yes, it matters... Because it is not about the marks. It is about the knowing. That you know so much!
And with a bit of effort, you can know that much more...
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