many idoits

I had seen 3 Idiots over the weekend. It’s quite a cute funny movie but quite frankly I cant quite agree with eth gush of compliments that its been receiving. I for one found it a bit too preachy. Surely the actors have done a great job but the script was not as great as I thought it would be. They even incorporated a huge bunch of internet jokes doing the rounds. But this is not a blog about movies. I leave that for the experts.
Watching 3 idiots one big growing up grouse came to my mind. Letters to family and remarks for the parents to sign off. This was the single biggest stress tool that the school used to get the child to be disciplined. I so freaking hated it. The shame associated with it was so large and the scare that one would have trying to anticipate the parents reaction. It is so freaking silly. Talking in class – bad remark, not in line – bad remark, did not do homework – bad remark, your partner broke the lab equipment – bad remark, eating in class – bad remark… and this one was my favourite.. I got a rap for being too enthusiastic in class. The teachers got some real pleasure in calling parents to class and in the principal’s office and making them cry and plead. It was a ego boosting ceremony. If the child smashed your ego, get the parents to set it right. Can’t you solve the freaking problem yourself? Aren’t you like paid and qualified to deal with children, without getting their parents involved.
My dad was once called into school. The reason was that I was arguing with the teacher. I was right (at least I thought so) and that the teacher was needlessly picking on me. This was in ninth standard. I had a higher sense of right and wrong versus some other students and I was a rebel to start with. Always inspired by Gandhi and other Amar Chitra Katha characters, I would not stand for something that I did not believe in, which I knew to be wrong. So I stood ground and entered into a verbal duel. The teacher did the next thing, call you father. I want to speak to him. This time I was not scared. I was right. I chatted with my dad. He heard me and did the best thing he should have. He explained to me while I might have been right it is improper to argue like that with the teacher. He came in and had a nice conversation with the teacher and closed the issue.
I don’t expect Jispa to be scared of me while doing some kidas in school and college. That cannot be her stick for discipline. Missing a homework assignment can’t be a reason for a scolding. Talking in class? Go ahead… arguing with authority – be smart about it. I would like her to do what she wants to. This is obviously not a blanket approval for her to do anything but it is an assertion that I am surely not scolding her for minor deemed transgressions. Especially when it comes to basic schooling and studies. Fiddling with substances – no that a serious issue. Holding hand with boyfriend? – come sit down, let me tell you what all I did.
These sound simplistic, especially when you have a relatively milder kid in the form of Jisa. She typically has no issue with authority (so far) and does not really test parenting. Who knows what happens when the tide changes. Sometimes parents would need to assert themselves more strongly. I only hope that I think through before I do that. I only hope I am aware of the environment when I take these calls. I hope I first see what was my fault in all this, what was the teachers fault and how we can first correct ourselves. I have seen enough of parents and teachers punishing children what I essentially see as their fault. Most of the time it’s a tripartite responsibility.
But of course, life in educational institutes seem to have moved on in some places and have retained their ‘culture’ in others. Her schooling has been a lot more evolved that what I had. And I hope her college had evolved as well. Even in my management college one of the profs wanted to scare us telling he will write letters to parents. To such characters, and those that will come in my daughter’s life, I have only one message for you – up yours.