The Math Teacher

“Anju, why have you got so poor marks in Math?”, my father asked me as he went through all the exam papers for the terminal exam. “The teacher doesn’t teach properly, Papa”, I replied in a scared voice.

“Why not? He is a very reputable teacher of Math, isn’t he? I think you are not paying attention to his teachings. You need to focus on this, Anju. Math is a very important subject”, my father said to me in an angry voice. I couldn’t speak much, but just nodded my head in shame and disheartenment.

I wondered that night, “I have managed to get a decent score in most of the subjects, but not in Math. Isn’t it clear that the problem is not with me, but with the teacher? Why doesn’t Papa understand this?”

The next day, the Parent-Teacher meeting was announced. It was to take place one week later. I told Papa and he was readily willing to take half-day off from work to attend it, as he wanted to meet my math teacher and discuss my poor score in the subject. I scored 38, whereas the pass marks were 35. I knew that Papa and the teacher were going to talk a lot about how distracted I was or how low on aptitude I was for the subject. I just had my fingers crossed.

I went to school with Papa on the day of the Parent-Teacher meeting. As our turn came to meet the Math teacher, I decided to stand at a certain distance as Papa went ahead to sit next to the teacher’s desk. I was very afraid of what was about to happen.

I heard Papa ask the teacher about my less score in only this subject. The teacher replied, “It's Okay, Mr. Sharma. Children of this age tend to have distractions. 9th Standard is a crucial year and if you truly want your daughter to do well this year and the next one, please enroll her in my tuitions. I teach every day after school, from 3 to 5 pm; and my charges are 10,000 per month. Well! It is not that big an amount, right? Who would want their child to fail in such a critical subject? All the further admissions depend on the average percentage driven by Math. Why would you risk it? Just join my tuitions and see your daughter do well within a month or so…..” I heard the teacher say.

I do not think my father spoke much after this since his time was already up. He just shook hands with the teacher, and we left the room.

As we walked towards the parking lot, my Papa held my hand, and said, “I got the whole scenario, Anju, as to why you are scoring so less. It’s evidently not you, it’s just the fact that you have not joined this man’s private tuitions”.

I spoke, “Papa, you know, almost 80% of the students in my class have already joined sir’s tuition and have got a good score in Math now. Papa, is it because they have improved, or is it just a bias on the teacher’s part? And what should ‘we’ do now? I think he will keep on giving me poor marks unless I join his tuition”, I said in a very sad tone.

“Yes, my child”, papa spoke, “you are right. But for your sake, I am ready to spend 10000 monthly for this tuition. Let us talk to him today itself and you should join his classes this week”.

I seldom oppose my father, so I simply agreed, although we both knew that we were falling prey to the corruption in the education system. But my father explained to me the risk we were facing. “It is Standard 9th now. You cannot afford to keep getting a low score in the most important subject. We must take this decision, my girl”, he said.

I did as he said. I joined the Math Sir’s tuition immediately. I hated going to that class, knowing that he was conning all the students there, but it seemed as if we had no other choice.

And, as expected, I scored 90 % in Math in the next terminal exam just after three months.

The day I showed the answer sheet to Papa at home, asking for his sign on the papers, I remember, he seemed so dull and unhappy. The same was my expression and thoughts. We both felt terrible about this. The teacher did not teach us math, instead, he taught us corruption.

After so many years, to this date, I feel outraged about such teachers and the ongoing malpractices related to our education system.