A child genius left sobbing in front of millions — and the parents betrayed by Channel 4
The final of Channel 4’s controversial Child Genius series was watched by millions of Britons on Sunday. But one person who refused to watch it was one of the stars, 12-year-old maths prodigy Rubaiyat Rahman, who could not face reliving the trauma he endured.
‘That was a bad moment for me — the worst I’ve ever experienced in my life,’ he says. ‘My mum, my dad and my sister were watching it. I went to my room.’
Few of us who did see the show would blame the poor child. It was car-crash telly at its worst. having been told he would face a tie-breaker after scoring equal points as his opponent Sharon Daniel in the knock-out quiz — giving him the chance f or a place i n the final — Rubaiyat was suddenly told he had actually lost and was kicked off the show.
Sharon, the eventual overall series winner, argued that one of her so-called wrong answers had in fact been correct and the show’s team agreed, meaning Rubaiyat was suddenly a point down and denied the chance of reaching the head-to-head final. It was a crushing blow, and the cameras wasted no time zooming in on his misery. every sob, every snivel, was broadcast.
The viewing was so excruciating that appalled viewers took to the internet to condemn the ‘cruel’ competition.
‘This verges on abuse. The child’s basic emotional needs are not being met,’ complained one parent on an online forum. Another wrote: ‘ The whole thing was hideously exploitative. I c an’ t decide who I am most disgusted by, Channel 4, Mensa (the IQ society that oversaw the competition) or the parents.’
Indeed, this heart-rending series, in which 20 gifted children were subjected to a barrage of fiendishly difficult tests, stands accused of being the cruellest reality TV show ever.
We’ve seen children in meltdown on the podium in an ampitheatre, where they stand as questions are fired at them, and others beside themselves with terror before going on. Just as disturbing were the ultra- competitive mums and dads, relentlessly pushing their children to win.
One mother plastered spellings all over the bathroom to prepare her child for that particular round. Another, astonishingly a psychologist, devised a special training regime for her 11-yearold to give her ‘optimum brain power’. It included everything from juicing to alternative therapies.
AND then, of course, there were the terrifying parents of eight- year- old Tudor Mendel- Idowu, the tiny scrap of a thing who openly wept when he came second in the final. not even teatime was a revision-free zone in his family house in Wokingham, Berks. Instead, Tudor ate his meals surrounded by encyclopedias and Post-It notes. his pastor father Tolu’s pearls of parenting wisdom included ‘happiness — as well as fear — produces a genius’.
Today Rubaiyat’s father, Dr Miraz Rahman, a lecturer in medicinal chemistry at King’s College London, concedes: ‘I don’t know inside whether I would do it again. They could have left out his tears.’
his wife, Kazi, who is studying for her PhD in medicinal chemistry, is less equivocal on whether they would put their son through the show again: ‘no,’ she says. ‘We were very naïve. When we first met the other parents we thought: “Oh my God, they are so serious.” ’
Dr Rahman agrees: ‘What some of those parents did with their children we couldn’t comprehend. I think a lot of them got carried away. Some of them took their children out of school to study for the show. I can’t imagine how a parent can stop the education of a child to prepare for a TV contest.
‘To be honest, it’s not the way we thought the programme would be. We were quite surprised by many things we have seen. I disagreed with [the programme makers] in many ways. Filming Rubaiyat when he was in tears was unfair. And it was unfair to tell a child he’s going through to the final then tell him he couldn’t after all. I spoke to the adjudicator Olivia and said: “You’ve got to do something about it. This is not the way it should be done. Why don’t you take three in the head-to-head.”
‘They discussed it then producers called me back [Dr Rahman was committed to an open day at King’s College] and said: “We’re sorry we don’t have the logistics to go ahead with three, so it has to be two.”
‘I think they wanted to show it in a way to create drama,’ says Dr Rahman. ‘That was the programme they wanted to make.’
Rubaiyat chips in: ‘That’s what television chooses to do all the time. They focus more on the losers.’
When we meet in the Rahman’s warm, family home in Wallington, Surrey, it is obvious why Dr Rahman and his wife emerged as the nicest parents on Child Genius, for both are deeply caring individuals who r ai se Rubaiyat and his delightful nine- year- old sister Rukaiya as much on laughter as a respect for education.
Take the moment I ask Rubaiya what it’s like having a genius as a brother. ‘Weird,’ she says. ‘At the dinner table, whenever he does any discussion, probably by the first five words I’m bored.’
Then, partway through the interview when her brother tries to explain a complex mathematical hypothesis (the Riemann hypothesis: ‘There’s a function called pi on X which is the prime counting function . . . ’ ) Rubaiya chips in: ‘This time it wasn’t the first five words before I got bored, it was the first two.’
Far from chaining their child genius to his desk, Dr Rahman, a keen cricketer, encourages his son in sport. And, more often than not, Rubaiyat, like most kids his age, is to be found on his games console rather than with his head in a book. none of which, of course, was featured in the series.
nor did the TV team mention that his bookshelf bulges with about every book enid Blyton ever wrote. Instead, out of the many, many hours of video footage taken at the family home, they selected him picking up one of his dad’s books, a self-help tome entitled how To Make Friends.
Rubaiyat, who attends one of the country’s best grammar schools, Wilson’s, is actually very far from short of friends, as Channel 4 knows only too well. Six of his chums came with their families to cheer him on.
DR RAHMAN shrugs: ‘That was taken out of context. What you see in the series is probably one thousandth of what they filmed. I t was less a documentary about finding a child genius and more about a competition and making a good story.’
So what on earth possessed him to allow his son to take part?
‘ We didn’t know about t he competition aspect. We didn’t watch the last series and didn’t have a clue about the format. Raising a gifted child is very, very rewarding and interesting but it’s also difficult and challenging.
‘ We thought this would be a documentary where there would be a l ot of talented children with their parents so you can interact and see how they’re bringing up their children.
‘It was also an opportunity for Rubaiyat to talk to experts about particle physics and complex mathematics which are beyond me, even though I’m a university lecturer.
‘I was never a parent before so you never know if what you’re doing is right or wrong. You always want the best for your children. Our main motivation was to see if we could help Rubaiyat fulfil his potential because we feel he’s got something that will be really helpful for mankind in the future, if we can guide him properly.’
For Rubaiyat is not just bright, he is astonishingly gifted. he sat his GCSE maths exam at the age of nine and not only got an A* but managed to score 195 out of 200 – higher than any pupil at the secondary school where he sat it.
his knowledge of particle physics is beyond that of a university undergraduate. The subject he chose for the final, superstring theory, is not
studied until PhD level. It was Rubaiyat himself who asked to enter Child Genius, after a school friend showed him a leaflet about the programme. After speaking to his parents, he went onto the website and answered the brainteasers.
‘They weren’t especially hard,’ he says. ‘I think my sister could possibly do them.’ She digs him in the ribs and his mother rolls her eyes. ‘She is definitely not doing Child Genius,’ says her mother. ‘She’s too emotional.’ The programme makers Wall-to-Wall then contacted the Rahmans and asked if Rubaiyat would like to take part.
‘We decided to go for it because he was very enthusiastic and it’s good when he’s enjoying something that challenges him,’ says his father. They attended a shortlisting day in November then a film crew interviewed and videoed the family at home.
Dr Rahman only realised the programme was different to what he had been led to believe when they attended the first day of the competition. Both he and his wife wanted to pull out. ‘But filming had started so we were committed to it.’ Rubaiyat had also excelled in the first round and wanted to continue.
Dr Rahman says: ‘Before every episode we were hoping Rubaiyat wouldn’t go through. I said to him: “Enjoy the experience. If you win, fine. If you can’t go through that means we have free weekends.” ’
But one moment of unfairness stands out for them: Rubaiyat’s final round of questions. Not least because they believe the childrens’ specialist subjects were imbalanced.
‘They also got the format wrong by pitting an eight year old against a 12-year-old. They’re a different age group and the way they handle pressure is different. If you’re going to run a competition you have to make sure it’s fair for every child.
‘You’re dealing with children here — it can affect them emotionally.’ Indeed. The Rahmans have tried to find positives. ‘ Rubaiyat’s always the winner,’ says his dad. ‘He never learnt to lose. It’s difficult for him. He takes it very badly.’
So has Rubaiyat found a positive? ‘You learn more from failure than you do from success,’ he says, but doesn’t sound very convinced. Would he take part again? Like many children his age, he can’t make his mind up. On the one hand, he adored discussing the subject that absorbs him with experts, on the other there’s that worst moment ever.
Thankfully, he has a mum and dad with wiser heads.