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Class 10: The end of the world
It’s been 11 years since I passed Class 10. But I still get the jitters every year when the CBSE announces the results. Much of my nervousness is about the extra work we, poor journalists have to do on the day. Writes Aarish Chhabra.
It’s been 11 years since I passed Class 10. But I still get the jitters every year when the CBSE announces the results. Much of my nervousness is about the extra work we, poor journalists have to do on the day.
From tallying schools’ claims with the actual results, to arranging family photographs of the toppers; from coming up with new ways to say ‘Girls trump boys’, to finding some against-all-odds type, sentimental story; from contacting the principals for self-congratulatory comments, to pasting the names and photos of hundreds of kids on our pages — we believe it’s tougher than the exams.
Worse, no matter how hard we try, there would be a complaining letter to the editor if the spellings of even one name go wrong. I mean, for God’s sake, have you seen the weird names kids have these days? And I thought my name was complicated.
However, that’s not the only reason I get nervous. I feel sorry for kids who sit on their computers, stare at their smartphones, trembling, as the website opens and the result is known.
In some ways, kids these days have it a little better than us — we had to go to the school to check the paper gazette, face the teachers immediately, share our results in person with other students, and face embarrassment mostly.
Now, the CBSE gives no percentage marks but a Cumulative Grade Point Average (CGPA). Almost every second child has scored 10 on 10 this time.
Even for ICSE and other boards that still deal in hardcore percentages, there are numerous helplines and counsellors to soothe the nerves in case a child scores less than 100%.
But I am particularly sad about how these kids are still made to believe that Class 10 is everything.
Zealous parents are effectively enrolled as co-students with their kids — completing their assignments, attending every parent-teacher meet with point-by-point agenda, even taking leave or quitting jobs to be able to help kids around the board exams.
No longer do we have extremist parents like my father, who routinely forgot which class I was in, and my mother, who lovingly told me to quit studies altogether if it was too much pressure.
We, too, had our share of sissies who topped the class after worrying and crying over each mark.
The boy who stood first went on to become a doctor from Grant Medical College, Mumbai (the one where ‘Munnabhai MBBS’ was shot!).
The girl who missed the top spot by 0.1% — and wept for days over it, as if her dog had died — did MBA from a top institute in Ahmedabad. She is now making lakhs in Chennai.
And the boy who stood third did engineering that landed him a job somewhere in the West. Their Facebook photos tell me they are sufficiently happy.
But what about the rest, the bottom three? First, let me assure you, they did not die. The worst performer in our class had thrown a party even though he’d got only 51% — it was the first time anyone in his family had crossed the halfway mark.
Inheritor of an arid 2-acre farm, he found his calling in business. He now sells rice under his own brand name and earns enough to take a vacation every six months.
The second one from the bottom inherited a small cloth shop, but is now a share-broker with enviable work hours — 9am to 3.45pm, five days a week. That gives him time to pursue his first love, photography.
The third worst was a girl whose parents were peons at our school. She went on to study fashion designing and now owns a boutique that specialises in ‘Bollywood replicas’.
If you need the dress that a certain heroine wore in a certain scene in a particular movie, she’d be happy to help. The prices are a little steep, though.
Their Facebook photos, too, tell me that they are sufficiently happy. Class 10 did not define their worlds, and their scorecards are now just a nostalgia item, a distant memory that has little bearing on their present or future.
So, if you are one of the sissies worrying or gloating over your marks, let me be blunt with you. If you did your best and the score was still low, remember that you are just 15 and have the rest of your life to improve.
If you have scored well, don’t gloat; and remember that you too are just 15 and have the rest of your life to improve.
As for me, I am pretty sure my editor, the man who gave me this weekly column to write, has no clue about my marks in Class 10.
