<p>‘Will January February March? I don’t know, but April May.” My teacher asked, “What’s fascinating about these lines?“ This was a long time ago, and it took me a while to actually read between the lines and understand what she meant. Every March, when my students rush through lessons in a last-minute prep for exams, I am reminded of these lines. As the month of March marches on, the heartbeat of every mother quickens and the sleep of every teacher decreases. Temple visits, prayers, and fasting days for mothers and teachers become more frequent. Children and teenagers will also be found roaming around their places of worship, often offering bribes to their God in the name of devotion but in exchange for better outcomes in exams—purely a mark of innocence. </p>.<p>On March 1, the second PU exam began. It is an annual ritual for us teachers to go and wish the students well for exams if they are at an exam centre different from our school. This year, too, I went with my colleagues. The atmosphere was charged; some parents were more tense than students. Many parents and students approached us for last-minute revisions. Truthfully, we teachers were more tense than parents and students. Every parent will have their child as their only responsibility. But we teachers are responsible for hundreds of them. Like my fellow teachers, I prayed for everything to fall into place for every child and for their prayers to be answered. The first bell rang, and the exam started. My heart either missed a beat or raced, juggling thoughts on whether the question paper was easy or difficult. </p>.<p>Three hours felt like three decades for us as my colleagues and I restlessly paced up and down. We waited for that one student to emerge from the examination hall so that we could see the question paper—actually, snatch the question paper from her hands. Finally, a student stepped out, and I ran to her as if she had stolen my money. My colleagues soon joined me. We had to see if we were right in coaching our children and if the questions were on expected lines. What a great relief!! All were expected questions. Parents crowded around us to check if their wards had all the answers right. To my surprise, some parents were disappointed that their child may have lost 2–3 marks, not realising the hard work the child put in throughout the year to give their best.</p>.<p class="bodytext">My question is: So what if the child loses 2–3 marks? Pat their backs for the smallest of their efforts and see them blooming in the sunshine. </p>
<p>‘Will January February March? I don’t know, but April May.” My teacher asked, “What’s fascinating about these lines?“ This was a long time ago, and it took me a while to actually read between the lines and understand what she meant. Every March, when my students rush through lessons in a last-minute prep for exams, I am reminded of these lines. As the month of March marches on, the heartbeat of every mother quickens and the sleep of every teacher decreases. Temple visits, prayers, and fasting days for mothers and teachers become more frequent. Children and teenagers will also be found roaming around their places of worship, often offering bribes to their God in the name of devotion but in exchange for better outcomes in exams—purely a mark of innocence. </p>.<p>On March 1, the second PU exam began. It is an annual ritual for us teachers to go and wish the students well for exams if they are at an exam centre different from our school. This year, too, I went with my colleagues. The atmosphere was charged; some parents were more tense than students. Many parents and students approached us for last-minute revisions. Truthfully, we teachers were more tense than parents and students. Every parent will have their child as their only responsibility. But we teachers are responsible for hundreds of them. Like my fellow teachers, I prayed for everything to fall into place for every child and for their prayers to be answered. The first bell rang, and the exam started. My heart either missed a beat or raced, juggling thoughts on whether the question paper was easy or difficult. </p>.<p>Three hours felt like three decades for us as my colleagues and I restlessly paced up and down. We waited for that one student to emerge from the examination hall so that we could see the question paper—actually, snatch the question paper from her hands. Finally, a student stepped out, and I ran to her as if she had stolen my money. My colleagues soon joined me. We had to see if we were right in coaching our children and if the questions were on expected lines. What a great relief!! All were expected questions. Parents crowded around us to check if their wards had all the answers right. To my surprise, some parents were disappointed that their child may have lost 2–3 marks, not realising the hard work the child put in throughout the year to give their best.</p>.<p class="bodytext">My question is: So what if the child loses 2–3 marks? Pat their backs for the smallest of their efforts and see them blooming in the sunshine. </p>