When my son’s school taught his father a lesson

Going down memory lane, I’m reminded of an incident when my son was studying in Class 6 of a local convent school. His English teacher complained to me about him during a parent-teacher meeting saying, “He needs special attention or tuition from a competent teacher.” I asked her to suggest a good teacher and humbly requested if she could spare some time to teach him as she was living in a sector near our residence. Accepting my request, she asked me to meet the principal for his permission.

The next day, I went to meet the principal and sent a slip briefly mentioning my name and the purpose of my visit. The principal sent a message through the peon to wait for a while as he was in the middle of an important meeting. Soon, the principal, known for his administrative capabilities and being a strict disciplinarian, called me in his office.

Handing over an application after greeting him, I urged him to allow my son to take tuition from his class teacher. He asked me, “Who teaches him English at home?” I promptly said, “My wife and me. I’m an information officer in the Punjab government and my wife a lecturer in Government College.”

Seeing the application he asked, “Have you written this application?” I replied in the affirmative. He returned the letter to me after encircling the word ‘tution’ with a red sketch pen, as erroneously misspelt by me. Giving a blank white paper with the word ‘tuition’ written on the top, he signalled me to sit on a sofa in the corner of his office and asked me to write it 25 times.

Embarrassed, I hesitatingly handed back the paper to him after completing the most awkward task. He meticulously checked it as often diligently done by the teacher in a classroom and advised me never to venture to teach my ward as “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing”.

After a word of caution, he called the English teacher and allowed my son to take tuition from her. After expressing gratitude, I quietly walked out of the principal’s office, feeling dejected.

Finally, I realised that the English language, which I had always taken pride in and considered my forte being an editor of an English departmental magazine for over a decade, had let me down and broken my illusion about having mastered the language.

Immediately, I set out for my office and remained perturbed the entire day till I reached home in the evening. My wife curiously asked, “Did you meet the principal today for Babloo’s tuition? What did he say?”

I related the entire incident to her and told her not to ask me to visit Babloo’s school in future either for the parent teacher meet or any other purpose. The ‘holy sermon’ delivered by the principal almost three decades ago still reverberates at the back of my mind and from that day onwards I never dared to teach my son English as a wise father.

EMBARRASSED, I HESITATINGLY HANDED BACK THE PAPER TO HIM AFTER COMPLETING THE MOST AWKWARD TASK