Schools as markers of class and aspirations

Schools have always been a class-marker in India. Earlier, it was the famous boarding schools that parents boasted about. Now, they need a new class marker.

My five-year-old goes to an international school in Gurgaon. Why did we choose it over CBSE/ICSE? Well, I can give a well-rehearsed five-minute monologue to proselytise CBSE simpletons. But in reality, I just followed what the most accomplished guy on my social radar did. They sent their kid to an IB (International Baccalaureate) school, and so did I.

IB schools in India display the insignias of universities they have exported their students to, like private engineering colleges display campus recruiters. (Mint Archive)

As a parent, you will always look to other parents for clues in decision-making, excluding your own — old folks who are forever plotting for you to have the (n+1)th kid.

Schools have always been a class-marker in India. Earlier, it was the famous boarding schools that parents boasted about — Doon, Mayo, Lawrence Sanawar, etc. But, once law & order improved and kidnappings for ransom fell to a tolerable count, the rich began sending their kids to day schools. Now, they need a new class marker. So, they learnt a new word: pedagogy.

Pedagogy is the method of effective teaching and learning — and is also used to justify a school fee that makes you download a Chinese loan app. Parents frequently compare it to their college fees — imagine paying the same amount of money to learn ABCs and C++.

To be honest, the international board does prepare the base for a kid to try for an Ivy League degree abroad. These are universities ranked much higher in global rankings than India’s best. The IB schools in India proudly display the insignias of universities they have exported their students to, like a private engineering college displays IT companies that recruited from their campus in their prospectus. The rosy picture is a bit smudged at present due to President Donald Trump, who wants you to pay for your Ivy degree education through your Infosys salary in Bengaluru: Please pay us the tuition fee in dollars, and then go back to your country to earn in rupees. Parents still hope, by the time their nursery kids hit puberty, Trumpian policies will be buried at a Mar-a-lago golf course.

One other ritual of being such a parent is attending birthday parties, often hosted at these new age play-areas. A party-friendly spot, where there is a designated area for rubberised bouncy castles, where parents unload their kids in the supervision of helpers, while they can network with other parents over a glass of beer, and further their career or business interests.

There are two sets of parents at such a place. One who acquired wealth via education. They cleared every other entrance exam, got their socially awkward pictures published in local newspapers on result day, and eventually worked hard to buy a flat in Gurgaon. Such people are usually partners at consulting firms, algorithmic traders, first-generation entrepreneurs, investment bankers, etc. People who have a suited profile-picture on Linkedin. Their prosperity is relatively recent. They still remember to click pics of the legroom when they fly business class.

The second set are from traditional business families: real estate, wholesale, elaichi businesses. The ones who are acquiring education via wealth. They look at the world from the owner-employee binary. You may be a senior vice president at an MNC, but from their lens, you are still a worker. They are very good at masking their contempt though.

At the parties, these cohorts are neatly divided. There is harmony though. There is not much common ground to talk about; the moment you throw an industry jargon, and, maybe unintentionally, make the other set feel less, they switch to some covert display of wealth.

“Oh, you stayed at Interlaken? Nice, we went to St Moritz.”

The mothers in that cohort are usually home-makers. Working women express horror among themselves: “How can she call us for a play-date at 3 pm on a Tuesday!”

Eventually, people start leaving after consuming the radioactive chole bhatoore served by the play area. All invitees exchange expensive gifts with useless return gifts. Blank-faced helpers from eastern India are feeding cake to their designated kid, while others are still in the play area, reluctant to leave. Mothers have identified their own smaller group by judging the rest by their hand-bags.

As a part of post-purchase rationalisation, all parents — beer-pint in hand — agree IB is the best pedagogy.

Abhishek Asthana is a tech and media entrepreneur, and tweets as @gabbbarsingh. The views expressed are personal