FRACTURE

Shaped by Marks

I was a talented kid—or at least that’s what I used to hear people say about me. I did well in school and almost always scored the highest marks. As far as I can remember, the only exception was in KG, when my roll number was 2, meaning I ranked second out of 30 or 40 students. In Play and Nursery, my roll number was 1.

Practically speaking, I had no idea what I was doing at school—most kids don’t. I didn’t really understand what I was studying, or even why I was studying it. My parents told me I had to study well—by “well,” they meant “really” well. I was expected to always get the top scores, or I’d be seen as the worst kid in the family.

Children tend to imitate everything they see around them, and I was no different. I believed whatever my parents told me was correct, and I suppose that’s normal at that age. When you’re young, you don’t yet have the ability to fully think and decide for yourself—you rely on guidance, especially from your parents.

But what happens when that guidance leads you in the wrong direction? It feels like guiding a blind man into the middle of a busy highway, then leaving him there alone with nothing but his stick.

I’m not saying that my parents were wrong for pushing me to do well in the exams. I’m saying that shaping an innocent mind into believing that success in human life depends on nothing but top grades is wrong.

Memories — 5