Karmic Carousel-Part 2

(Where tables are turned and stuff comes around)

Where I work, we have something called “assessments” to assess (what else?) the learning that has taken place in a given academic year. The word is only a euphemism for “exams” so kids are lulled into a false sense of security and they don’t panic about these as kids normally do when they hear the E-word. But I think the kids we teach are smarter than that. They panicked anyway.

As an assessor, I went to a younger learning centre which had 5-year olds who were being assessed (damn, too many Ss in that word. No red squiggly line from Word, which means I actually spelt it right. I’m deeply worried, therefore). I recently read this piece about how children get deeply scarred emotionally after traumatic experiences in their early childhood and are socially maladjusted as adults. I didn’t really want to perpetrate such “trauma” and have these kids reclining on couches years later pouring their hearts out to shrinks who would squarely put the blame on me. So, I was understandably jittery.

Following are the excerpts from my assessing experience.

(Enter Kid1)
Me: (Making my voice and general bearing as cloyingly sweet as possible) Hi K1. My name is XYZ. How are you doing?

K1: (not making eye-contact, stares desultorily out of the window as if looking for an escape route)

Me: (smiling still, while my brain tells me the assessment is already going downhill since I haven’t established any warm rapport with the kid, as the training manual had sermonized) Good. May I ask you a few questions, then? Is that OK?

K1: (nodding mechanically and turning limpid doe-eyes towards me)

Me: (already feeling like the wicked witch of the West. Hell, I will probably be the prominent feature in this kid’s nightmares. And I look at the window and wonder if it’s too late to make my getaway, job be damned) OK. Good. Can you count from 41-55 for me?

K1: (stares at me silently. There is obviously no recognition of the words coming out my mouth. I bet his thought bubble would have said, “Why is this crazy woman talking to me in this high-pitched voice? I want my mommy.”)

Me: (Adjusting my hair, nervously. I rattle off all the questions on the list and still no answer)

Me: (at the end of 15 interminably long minutes during which I had been talking to myself. I now realize how difficult it is for actors to deliver monologues. I will never, ever deride them. Never.) Thank you K1. It was nice meeting you.

K1: (walks away without so much as a glance in my direction)

(Enter K2)
Me: Hi K2. (still talking in the retarded voice) My name is XYZ. How are you doing?

K2: (flashes a brilliant smile and my spirits lift) Hi didi.

Me: (silently thanking K2 for being born. I love her already) Is it OK if I ask you a few questions?

K2: (Still smiling, nods vigorously)

Me: Ok, Can you count from 41-55 for me?

K2: Yes, didi. 1,2,3,4..

Me: 41-55 K2, not 1,2 etc.

K2: 1,2,3,4…

Me: (my soaring spirits crash to the floor) How about 81-95?

K2: I don’t know didi.

(The rest of the interview goes pretty much in the same vein. After K2 leaves, I take a little break to check on Conifer to see if it’s just me or is everyone going through the same. Conifer seems ready to cry. Better not aggravate matters, methinks and I withdraw silently)

Of, course there were some really smart ones who got all the answers right and I owe them my sanity. And there were a few gems of the other kind. Sample:

Q: Can you count from 41-55 for didi?
A: 41,42,43…49, forty-ten, forty-eleven, forty-twelve… (sigh)

And for the written questions, we had quite a few hilarious ones. And this was from older kids:

Q: Write a 300 word essay about life in 2250.

A: In 2250, because of global warming, fair people will turn wheatish (sic) and there will be no difference between blacks and whites. And everyone will be equal….
(So global warming solves racism. Is Green Peace listening?)

Q: Who is the most influential person in India, according to you?
A: According to me, terrorists are the most influential people in India.
(move over Gandhiji, LeT is here to stay)

Kids say the darndest things.