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I'd write more, like you said I should. If only, there was more to me.

Monday, May 22, 2006


The mere mention of that meeting evokes a sense of dread in me. For one, you get allocated a certain time. On paper, its five minutes per teacher. Heaving, huffing, breathless, you reach the scene in the perpetual hope that a schedule will be a schedule. Things will stick to the stipulated time. They almost never do. For one, some parents prefer learning all about their child from the teachers, which I believe, really shouldn't be the case. After all if as a Mom and a Dad you don't know your child, who else will?

So things as they stand unfolded in a rather predictable fashion on Saturday.

Fast, forward, backward, whichever way you roll, you'll get one of those parents who will hold up the queue. Somehow, the said person will also lack the vision of hindsight and will not for once budge his or head to shed just a glance at what's happening right behind their back.

Hence, when a certain lady in green rather appropriately took over even more rightly, charge of my daughter's Environmental Studies teacher, I lined up first for 10 minutes, then the clock started ticking away, soon it was another 20 minutes, before I knew it I had already been standing there for a good 30 minutes.

Just what is it that these parents discuss, I often wonder? More so when it involves frustrating waits.

As far as I am concerned, there are only three options:
a) Your child is coping
b) Your child isn't coping
c) Your child desperately needs help (if that's the case then, as a parent you desperately need another session)

Well, given the sheer length of the conversation, I'd safely think a one-on-one session was what this particular parent would need. But I didn't really care as long as I could get my five minute's worth.

Having met the teacher earlier, I wasn't expecting much, so the nature of the chat didn't come as a surprise. As I'd anticipated, I heard more about the taming of daughter's thick mane, than on her ability to cope with the academics itself - the nature of that chat merits another post, something I'll save for later.

In a hurry to end the taming of my kiddoes wild mane and even wilder spirit, I asked if she was doing fine is class.

Then it all unfolded, "yes, but, she can do with better concentration."

"Oh, ok, thank you," I said having heard that line so many times before.

Of course, whenever I'm thrown that bit about concentration, the first thought that flashes through my mind is whether the teacher himself or herself is getting it right.

Often, teachers who have the right amount of passion and dedication for the job, never have a problem getting kids to concentrate in class. Even the thoughts they share about their child come flourished with tons of optimism. For them the glass is always half full, the shades always white. Then again, such 'Teacher Men and Women' are far and few between.

Which is partly why, when I meet Aneesha's subject teachers I was simply blown away. Having spent a good four years hearing more rants than raves, their comments came as a real whiff of fresh air.

Both of them praised her spirit of independence, enterprise and determination to help.

In fact, virtually bringing tears to my eyes, was her calm and composed class teacher, who said these words that I shall treasure for the rest of my life:

"I am really fortunate to have Aneesha in my class, she is a very fine child. You have done a fine job of bringing her up."

I hope these words will ring true even when she steps into her wise teenage years. The time when she will apparently know more than the sum of Bala and my brains.

Till then I'm gonna count my blessings to have her as my lil gal who truly brings out the best in me..... with or without her untamed hair that is.