Schooled for life

School is ten days away and I'm counting every passing second. All the necessary preparations for that much-anticipated peal of the morni...

School is ten days away and I8217;m counting every passing second. All the necessary preparations for that much-anticipated peal of the morning assembly bell have been made. Pencils have been sharpened, uniforms ironed, shoes polished, new water bottles purchased. In a little over a week, my children8217;s summer vacations come to an end and mine may actually begin.Come to think of it, it8217;s amazing how much we take schools 8212; civilisation8217;s greatest institution, humanity8217;s most charitable project, modernity8217;s most challenging effort 8212; for granted. We tend to revile them and make clicking noises with our tongue about falling standards in education. But, believe me, there8217;s nothing quite like a two-month summer vacation to make every parent in the land realise the great contribution schools, quite regardless of their standard of excellence, have made to the pursuit of happiness and the progress of the human race.

For too long have we grumbled about school teachers who seem more interested in knitting booties fortheir grandchildren than in the lofty purpose of knitting together the best elements in our progeny. Today, if a member of that overworked, underpaid race were to cross my path, I would shake her/his hand with the deepest gratitude and exclaim, 8220;O brave new world, that has such people in8217;t!8221; By selflessly keeping our young occupied 8212; gainfully or otherwise 8212; for seven whole hours in a day, they are discharging a task worthy of the country8217;s highest civilian honours.

Don8217;t misunderstand me. I don8217;t have monsters for children. Mine don8217;t, generally speaking, drive a Maruti around and run down the neighbour8217;s dog. They are the common garden variety, quite decent in their own way. Like the rest of their ilk during the summer holidays, they wake up promptly when the cock crows 8212; at noonday, that is. After which they assume a horizontal position almost instantly 8212; now in front of a television screen.

It8217;s then time for the telephone to ring. I would be very surprised if the Prime Minister or Chief of ArmyStaff, receives more telephonic communication than my teenage sons do in an average day. It8217;s difficult to fathom what matter of serious consequence should so engage a young mind and, incidentally, the telephone, for such lengths of time, but one can only assume that it is at least as important as coordinating troop movements at Kargil. The last time my brother tried to reach me on the telephone, he had to dial no less than 52 times before he got through.

To expect soap and water to rudely interrupt this regimen is to demonstrate parental cruelty of a very high order. The third time you gently remind the child about the virtues of working up a lather, and the words, 8220;I told you I8217;ll have a bath. Now leave me alone!8221; reverberates in the afternoon air. This may be an acceptable response, but when at 10 pm a similar hint elicits a similar response, you begin to wonder where you went wrong as a guardian and guide.

The trickiest part of this vacation deal is having to tackle the mortal combat at yourdoorstep. Suddenly you look up from a book and realise that the older child has the younger by the scruff of the neck and the younger one is spiritedly proceeding to chew his brother8217;s ear off. So what do you do? a Scream your lungs out, telling them not to fight? b Requisition the services of a surgeon to separate them into two whole children once again? c Go back to your reading and hope they survive the encounter?

If you have the stomach for it and can put up with the growls, I would recommend the 8220;return to reading8221; regimen. It always works, despite the twinges of sharp anxiety that may plague you. Some time after the neck has been twisted and the ear has assumed the hues of a tomato, there will be a sudden cessation of hostilities. For some really instantaneous fraternal bonding, you could always announce to no one in particular that there8217;s baingan for dinner. 8220;Yuck,8221; the older one will scream. 8220;Yuck,8221; the younger one will scream. They will then both turn around and shout, 8220;You makethe yuckiest things for dinner,8221; in perfect synchronisation, the jaws and claws forgotten.

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I8217;ve been told that patience always pays. That sooner or later my children will get transformed into two wonderful people who will contribute significantly to the progress of humankind. I am still waiting for that miracle to happen. Meanwhile, it is my firm belief that there is no flaw in a child8217;s character that some good, old-fashioned algebra cannot iron out.

Algebra imparted by some courageous mathematics teacher within the four walls of a classroom in a school.