Monday, August 27, 2012

Of yet another PTM

The brat had the first PTM of this year last Saturday. Unlike previous PTMs, he was very clear that he was going to accompany me and even laid out his uniform the previous night in preparation for going to school and sacrificing his Saturday morning sleep in. After I had clunked my jaw back into place, he managed to get it to hit ground again by asking the pater if he was coming along. For a pater who likes his weekends to be calm and unruffled, and who can be lion awoken from sleep if roused on a weekend, this was an act of bravery worthy of some gallantry honour.
The pater agreed. This, in that sense, would turn out to be a historic PTM for purely the fact that this was the first time in the brat's entire scholastic career beginning from playschool that the father had attended a PTM. The brat, I decreed, had more courage than I would have thought he had. Given that the brat has always skeetered around the fringes of scoring in most of his assessment sheets, taking the father to the PTM would mean leading the bull by the ring into the arena. Metaphorically speaking of course. And of course, the pater is a Taurean.
Bathed, perfumed enough to knock out cattle at 10 paces, and dressed to the teeth, we set off to school. The brat was happy and chirpy enough. "Wot yu'll ged fer me if I ged good marks?" was played on a loop on the drive to school. " Let's see your marks first, I reminded him gently, wondering if a trip to Hamley's was on the cards post PTM.
We entered, the brat happily took us to his classroom, seated us down, handed over his file of assessment sheets and waited expectantly. I went through the papers. He had scored decently in every subject except Hindi. Not pathetically, not great, but average. I asked his teacher if this was all his own effort, given that he used to enjoy concessions like spelling errors overlooked, no marks deducted for bad handwriting, extra time, questions explained to him, assistance in doing the answer sheet with his special educator, etc, until the last year. This year, I had opted to have him not avail of any concessions. And she assured me he had not received any concessions. Whatever he had done was his own effort. I was rather proud. Not, this was not grade A level. But it was a respectable B. Except of course, the Hindi. Which was Mother Earth Swallow Me Now. But admittedly, I haven't been looking at the subject, given my own difficulty with it.
This also was the shortest PTM I've ever attended, with the teacher being kind enough to not present me with a point by point laundry list of complaints about the brat, except to tell me gently about his giggling fit issues, where he begins giggling and can't stop until he's made the entire class giggle with him. She was calm about it. I would have been frothing at the mouth and snorting steam at the nostrils.
We emerged blinking into the sunlight, where I assured brat that he had done okay, but he could do better. No, he didn't get a toy. He'll get one when he gets into As. No, I'm not pushing him. He will push himself to do better. Just as he pushed himself to become good enough to do his assessments on his own.

3 comments:

  1. After imagining his giggling fit and till the point the entire class was also giggling, I was myself giggling away badly :D

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  2. Anonymous11:49 AM

    Kiran

    So happy to read about your son's progress. Wishing him the best for the years ahead.

    Warm wishes

    Anu

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  3. Great! Now to get cracking on Hindi!

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