Practice Makes Perfect

This was the worst of it all - going home and breaking the news to his mother. It was bad enough that he had scored the lowest marks in the whole class

This was the worst of it all - going home and breaking the news to his mother. It was bad enough that he had scored the lowest marks in the whole class; that the teacher had announced his marks out aloud for the whole class to hear while handing out the answer papers and that she had told him - in a very matter of fact manner - that if he kept to this he would not pass the term exams coming up in a couple of weeks. These, however, were minor issues compared to what was to come.

Mahesh was horrible at Mathematics - always had been. This year, to make matters worse, he had a new Mathematics teacher. Mrs. Vandana Iyer was notorious among the students for brooking no nonsense and more pertinently now, being very strict in marking exam papers. She started paying attention to Mahesh after his dismal performance in the first class test and since then had made it a point to pick on him as often as possible to solve problems on the black board. She did this often and to many students, but most often to Mahesh and none of the others were quite as clueless as he was.

Now as he returned home vary of the inevitable barrage of tears and threats from his mother that awaited him, Mahesh contemplated many alternate ways of breaking the news to her gently and finally decided to not tell his mother at all. She needn’t know and he would study like crazy for the terminal exams coming up, do well at that one and then this test wouldn’t matter and everything would be fine. In fact, then he could even tell her his test marks, but that would be insignificant if accompanied by good results in the exam. So, he decided he would say nothing and he did not“for five whole minutes. That was as long as it took for his mother to read his failure on his face.

”What happened, why do you look so disturbed’“Nothing” he said sitting down to eat and hoping she wouldn’t notice anything amiss. He started to eat, but watched in dismay as her concern turned quickly into suspicion at his evasive response. Further denial would be futile and would further deteriorate his already miserable position. He told her.

That evening Mahesh sat down to study for the upcoming Mathematics examination. He had got it worse than usual, first from his mother and then when his father had got back from work, from him. He did not make much progress on his studies that evening, since his mind was not on it. He was sure that there was no way he would do well at the coming examinations. He always studied hard for examinations, reading his notebook and textbook for hours on end, but regardless of how confident he felt before the exam, his results followed the same depressing pattern. When he thought he did really well, which was rare, he scrapped through — passing by a few marks. Most times, he failed.

Later that night he lay in bed pondering his fate. Doing well in the upcoming examination seemed unlikely and not doing well would place him in a particularly precarious position with his parents and teacher. More importantly, if he failed this time too, he would be setting himself up as a potential candidate for being kept back in the sixth standard at the end of the year if he failed at the year-end examinations too. Mahesh shuddered just thinking about being in the same class next year when all his classmates moved on to the next standard. He could not even foresee how his parents would react if that ever came to pass. The rains bet down outside, the sound making him feel cold and the streetlight throwing strange shadows of the falling rain on the wall of his room heightening his sense of hopelessness. Some time before he finally drifted off to sleep, Mahesh had made up his mind that the only way out was to copy for the examination.

When he woke up the next morning, he remembered his resolve of the previous night and nearly laughed at himself. He was desperate to do well at the exams, but not that desperate. He had never copied before and did not know how. Besides, he was sure that he would be too tense and get caught. A fine soup he would land up in if that happened!

That evening after school, Mahesh got back to his mathematics notebook and started reading. He read through a few problems and thought he had it, but then he remembered in gloom that he always thought he had it, but just couldn't seem to get the problems correct in the examination. Within an hour his hopelessness returned and with it, his resolve to copy for the exams. Another night, the rains continued unabated. The wall on his bedroom was damp “ it always got that way when it rained too hard ” and the wetness formed a shape like that of a haggard old man bent over. Once again, the streetlight threw on his wall the shadow of the falling rain and together with the damp spot, created a depressing collage of an old man haggard with age bowed by the force of the falling rain.

This pattern continued for the next couple of days. Despair and resolve at night and the return of good sense with the dawn. However, now there were just two days left for the exams and as he sat down wearily with his mathematics notebook, he had his moment of clarity. He could not do well in the examination on his own — he could spend the next two years reading his math notebook and still do just as badly. On the other hand, doing badly this time was something he could not afford. The only way out was to carry his notebook into the exam hall and sneak a peak from time to time. The questions wouldn't be the same as those done in class, but they would be quite similar and he should be able to manage just fine once he 'remembered' the approach to be followed. Thus, Mahesh resolved for the first time in his life to copy for an examination and for a change, when daylight came, the next morning — gloomy and damp as it still was - his resolve held.

All through that day in school, he scarcely paid attention to his lessons as he kept plotting on how he would execute his devious intentions. Carrying his notebook into the examination hall was impractical; given its size the chances of his getting discovered were too high. Tearing out the pages and stuffing them into his pocket would be effective, but would lead to some practical problems when he returned to school the next term without his notebook. The only real option, he concluded, was to copy out the problems into sheets of paper, which he could then smuggle into the examination.

It was the night before the Mathematics examination and Mahesh lay in bed listening to the relentless rain. This was the first examination of the exam series and he had spend the last two days doing virtually nothing but copying out his mathematics notebook onto sheets of paper. He had got halfway through the first time round before he had realized that he would end up with far too many sheets to stuff into his pocket without arousing suspicion and hence had started afresh again, using a much smaller scrawl this time round. The task was finally done and he had hidden his secret manuscript inside his mathematics notebook for the night. As he lay in bed, Mahesh felt a little like a soldier on the night before a war where the overwhelming odds against his side virtually ensure defeat and death. He played over in his mind a hundred times, how he would transfer the notes from his pocket to inside his desk once the test started and how he would then peek at it, whenever he was sure the teacher wasn’t looking. He grappled for a while with the practical difficulties of taking the paper out of his pocket without anybody noticing. It was not just the teacher who was dangerous. A few months ago, Rama, the class topper had told on Shyam, when she had seen him attempt to peek into his neighbor’s book during a test. Shyam had got it real bad then from the teacher and Mahesh shuddered some more. He lay there in his darkened room a little longer, unable to sleep, fears and frustrations zipping through his head. Finally, when he did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with a giant Rama “thick glasses, pigtails, toothy grin and all, standing over him as he tried unsuccessfully to stop hidden chits of paper from popping out uncontrollably from his many pockets.

The day of the big exam dawned overcast like every other day for the past two weeks. Mahesh had skipped breakfast convincing his mother that he was not hungry. He stuffed his secret “notes” into his pocket and was off. He immediately realized that there were still too many sheets of paper and he would have difficulty hiding it. As he walked towards school, the rains broke out and huddled under his umbrella, he felt more wretched than ever. More importantly, the rains wetted his trousers and the sheets of paper were in danger of getting soggy. He tried his best to keep them dry moving his umbrella this way and that and as soon as he got to school, he went into the toilet and examined the sheets. They were damp, but the writing was still intact. He stuffed them back into his trouser pocket and proceeded to the examination hall. When he got to the hall, he found to his dismay that the seat that had been allotted him was in the first row. To add further to his chagrin, Mrs. Vandana Iyer was the invigilator for the day. If she caught him copying, he knew there would be hell to pay. Seeing her coupled with the proximity of her desk to his seat melted his resolve. The double whammy of first bench seating and Mrs. Vandana as invigilator was more than he had bargained for. As she asked everyone to place their books outside the hall, Mahesh found himself leaving outside not just his notebook, but also his notes — the damp sheaf of papers that were his two nights work and his last strand of hope for the exam. As he entered the examination hall he felt despair and darkness gather closer around him.

When he got home after the exam, he told his mother that he had done “OK” like he always told her. “Lets see when the results come”, she said, having heard his response often enough not to believe it. This made him nervous and he took out the question paper and started adding up the marks he thought he would get. He did this many times each time varying the number of questions he thought were correct, and the percentage of marks he would get for questions where he had got the right approach, but the wrong answer. This, however, did nothing to assuage his fears. When he added up to a total that was higher than the pass percentage he worried that he had been more lenient in allocating marks than the teacher would be and added up once more in a stricter fashion. Then he would end up below the pass percentage and would then worry some more.

It rained almost everyday during the vacations post the exams. His friends complained since the rains kept them indoors most days and spoiled their usual holiday activities. Mahesh, however, was not too concerned, since he wasn’t too good at sports anyways and preferred to stay at home reading novels and comics. Like all other holidays this one too passed in a flash and before Mahesh knew it, it was time for the school to reopen again. The first period on the morning the school reopened was Mathematics and Mahesh felt a familiar sense of dread return. He had managed to keep thoughts of the examinations out of his mind for most of the holidays, but now that the prospect of results was before him, he could no longer ignore it.

The mathematics period was the first one in the morning and when he opened his notebook, he found the sheaf of papers he had left inside at the last minute before going into the exam hall. He quickly hid these in his pocket before anyone could notice. If only he had had the courage to use those sheets in the exam’but now it was too late.

The teacher started off giving the answer papers and Mahesh felt his mouth go dry. She was actually reading the names and marks aloud as she was handing out the papers. Mahesh waited with a sense of dread. Then his name was called out and for a moment he could not believe what he heard. He had scored 70%. Not the highest, no, not by far, but by far the highest that he had ever scored in any mathematics exam. The teacher knew this and she said, “Good improvement, Mahesh, although you still can do much better. How did you achieve this?”

Mahesh had hardly recovering from his shock and he could not think of anything sensible to say. He remembered the teacher’s constant refrain that one should always practice problems at home before the examination and so he blurted out “I practiced problems, Ma”am- that is why I did well”. This was the answer the teacher was looking for and she was pleased. She went on to tell the rest of the class how they should at least now realize the importance of practicing problems and do so to improve their results. Mahesh, however, was not listening. He was too thrilled to listen to anything at all right then, for the first time in his life he had scored well in a Mathematics exam.

It had stopped raining for the first time in many days just in time for the games period that afternoon. The boys were delighted to be getting a chance to play football for the first time in weeks and were making the most of it. Neither the slushy playground nor the overcast sky - threatening to breakout into rains again at could dampen their enthusiasm. Mahesh was loitering around near the goalpost feeling perfectly happy with himself. He did not play very well and was happy being a defender for the stronger side that day. He was thinking about his surprising showing in the exam and wondered how he could possibly repeat it again. - a tough task considering that he had no clue on what he had done right considering the grand mess he had made of his preparations. He felt the sheets of paper he had stuck his pocket that morning and pulled them out. As he looked at the page after page of math problems scrolled down, like a bolt from the sky, the truth dawned on him. Mahesh laughed aloud and skipped a couple of steps, stunning the goalkeeper, who stood nearby. After weeks of gloom, the sun broke free from the clouds flooding the field in warm golden light - the rains were finally over. That evening, there was a young boy skipping his way home after school through the rain-washed streets. To those who passed him, he was just another boy glad to be leaving school on a Monday evening. There was nothing in his manner that would tell them that here was a boy who had learnt a lesson that his teachers couldn’t teach him in his own special way.