Every year when results day comes along, I revisit the alphabet. You're wondering how I'm even writing for this space but I implore you to read on as I elucidate.
Every year when results day comes along, I revisit the alphabet. You're wondering how I'm even writing for this space but I implore you to read on as I elucidate.
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Any person who can use that last verb correctly can't be all-empty up there, no?
A is for amusement. Toppers from all streams alternatively amuse and annoy education reporters, the latter for whom this day is also one of the most important all year.
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Monosyllabic responses ('What was your study schedule like?' Comes the reply, ('Normal') to diva like tantrums ('Umm, I really don't think I can answer that question'), you'd wonder whether you were calling up an A-lister from Bollywood.
You'd then look at the caller ID again to realise that it's only a student and this is only the start of their foray into the real world.
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On Tuesday, our own education reporter was nearly pulling out her own hair as evening approached. I felt her pain.
Each year pass percentages battle to better themselves over the year before, and cut-offs get higher.
B is for bewilderment. My jaw nearly hit the desk when our education reporter said that one topper had got 97 per cent. 97 per cent.
No, these figures weren't emergency contraceptive efficacy rates.
They were numbers on marksheets that would go out to colleges soon, whose own officials would be pulling out their own hair over who they would admit into their hallowed halls.
Each year pass percentages battle to better themselves over the year before, and cut-offs get higher.
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It's no wonder then, that admissions day outside colleges in the city is a sight, as students along with their parents weep in despair over having lost out a seat because of 1 per cent. One tiny per cent.
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And C is for comfort. As results day draws to a close, I'm suddenly happy to be a child of the 1990s, where getting even a first class pass mark made you a Titan.
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When school was about march past practice and annual day as much as it was about unit tests and prelims.
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Results day was spent stuffing your face with junk food after the news was out. Suicides were the exception not the rule. And the kids who even scraped by could dare to dream.
Alisha Coelho is Principal Correspondent, MiD DAY
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