Between Fish and Father - The Pitfalls of School Admission Tests

chillibreeze writer — S N Tagore

“And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school.”

- Little Boxes on the Hillside
Melvina Reynolds/Pete Seeger

When Pete Seeger sang about all those people living in little boxes with pretty, school-going children, he skipped one crucial step – the pretty children have to clear admission tests before they can go to school. Having just experienced the process (and lived to tell the tale), I can now enlighten all the other parents in those little boxes out there.

Our son had been happy at his Montessori school and I had been happy enough to drop him there every morning (pretty teachers; pretty, young mothers). But like all good things this too had to end. He turned five in mid 2009 and we had to put him in a primary school before the 2010 academic session began.

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We were very keen about three missionary schools in Kolkata (lets just call them Schools A, B & C so as not to ruffle any feathers). All three schools took in about 150 boys in the first grade and held admission tests during November-December. Every parent in Kolkata with a son about to start school is usually keen on these three schools – meaning competition was intense. The admission process was more a test of parents than of the children. Failure was not an option.

Our entire domestic life had come to centre around our son’s admission tests. We had put off all vacations for the year and our social life was on hold. My wife tutoring our son every evening and by dinner time she would usually end up with a headache while he would either be in tears or throwing a tantrum. We were endlessly planning our tactics for facing each interview and speculating about what to wear at the interviews (formals obviously, but how formal); which school to opt for if our son got selected by more than one place, and so on. We were fast approaching the point where we cared less about results and more just wanting the interviews to be over and done with.

School C interviews were scheduled first. Run by an order of Jesuit priests who had schools in practically all corners of India, school C was considered one of the best in Kolkata. However, in recent years, there had been persistent rumors about admissions being given in exchange for hefty donations. As if to confirm such rumors, a rather high percentage of the students seemed to be sons of very wealthy businessmen.

The grounds and buildings of School C were certainly impressive and impeccably maintained. Along with other parents, we were shown into a seminar hall which would have done nicely for any large, corporate house. Centrally air-conditioned, thick carpets, piped music, LCD monitors – this was a wealthy school. It seemed that the rumors about admissions against donations had reached the school authorities because the principal lectured us about how the admission process would be directly overseen by him and how foolish it would be for any parent to offer money. He also made it clear that after an initial short listing, the final selections would involve a lottery and it would ultimately be down to our luck.

Although the admission guidelines of School C had mentioned that no written tests would be involved, the children were herded into a separate room for a short test, much to the collective dismay of parents. They returned after half an hour happily clutching the pencils and erasers they had been given. Thereafter the principal called us into his study, where our son was asked to read a few lines of text, spell some simple words, identify colors and do some additions/subtractions. He breezed through all of these and we went home satisfied. We could not do anything about the lottery, but at least the interview went well.

School A interviews were due within ten days of School C. This was the big one - an old and venerable institution, recognized all over the country. Down the years, it had produced internationally reputed luminaries in science, literature, politics, sports, and business. The formidable old boy’s network of the school was spread all over the world and could instantly open doors for one. The school also had a reputation for instilling discipline, which we felt would be good for our boy. My wife made no bones about the fact that she was placing School A well ahead of the others and anything else would be a poor second as far as she was concerned.

In its admission guidelines, school A had stated that no reading, writing or “number work” would be involved in the selection process. After our experience at School C, we were taking this with more than a pinch of salt but wondered what other exotic criteria could be used for school admissions if the three Rs were left out. We were going to find out soon enough! For all its towering reputation, the building and grounds of school A compared rather poorly with those of school C. No air conditioned seminar halls here. We were to wait in a semi open area next to the playground where a few school benches had been laid out for the occasion. The stairs and balconies were dirty and the place looked distinctly shabby compared to school C.

When our turn came, we were shown into one of the first floor class rooms where our interviewer sat behind a small desk. A notice pasted on a stiff board was propped up on the desk, facing us. The notice informed interviewees in bold letters that due to a very limited number of seats being available, most applicants (although very good) would have to be turned away. Therefore parents were advised to try in other schools as well.

After initial pleasantries, the gentleman asked which school I had attended. When I told him, he immediately launched into a eulogy about how good my old school was and urged us to admit our son there without a second thought. I agreed that my old school had indeed been a very good school at one point of time but explained that it had unfortunately been in doldrums for the last few years following some management changes. “Oh but we are just as bad; our standards have gone to the dogs …….” He countered in all seriousness.

We parried by pointing out school A’s unbroken record of excellence and the long list of illustrious names that featured among its old students. “All right, if you are so keen about us….you must have seen this…..” our interviewer now pointed to the notice propped up on his desk. “Tell me, why should we take your son from among so many applicants”?

We made what we thought was a cogent argument about how we were confident that our son would match up to school A’s standards if given the chance and how much we hoped he would benefit from the school’s discipline, values and tradition.

At this, our interviewer called our son over to his desk with an air of getting down to business. After asking our son to read out a few lines from a text book (so much for the “no reading” part), he leaned back in his chair and asked – “….so tell me my friend, what did you have for lunch before coming here”.

“Rice”, our son mumbled.
“Only rice, nothing else?”…….our interviewer probed.
“Also vegetables…..”
“Good! Vegetables! What else did you eat?”
“Fish”….our son added to the list.
“Excellent! Fish”….our interviewer leaned forward, eyes shining, “now tell me my friend, which do you like more, fish or your father?”

He had caught our son off guard. In the last few months of intense tutoring, we had not prepared him for this. He screwed up his face and scratched his head, clearly trying to weigh his options. Finally, to our everlasting relief, he stuttered “father”.

Our interviewer was not to be satisfied so easily. “No my friend, you merely like fish, whereas you love your father….”he elaborated, while our son looked confused.

Having established that our son placed paternal loyalty ahead of his taste for fish, our meeting seemed to have crossed its high point. After one or two perfunctory questions about whether our son fought with his sister (yes) and if his mother ever spanked him (yes again), our interview was over. We returned home rather dazed and totally at a loss as to how we had fared.

If School A was offbeat and enigmatic, School B was as far traditional and along expected lines as it was possible to be. Run by the same order of Jesuits as School A, School B, though somewhat less glamorous, was even older and was reputed for its consistently top-grade results and excellent play grounds.

Here the interview was conducted by a benign looking, elderly gentleman who seemed to be an archetype of the old fashioned, Anglo Indian school master. He made our son spell, read and do some simple sums in front of us. To our great satisfaction he managed to do everything promptly and correctly, so much so, that the kind, old gentleman even called him a ‘computer kid’. My wife and I looked at each other and did mental high fives. At least School B was in the bag, we thought. We had a lesson coming to us.

First we got a letter from School C in the self addressed envelope that they had taken along with the application papers. The pre-formatted letter informed us politely that our son had not been successful and regretted having caused us any inconvenience. “Must have missed out in the lottery”, we told ourselves. Although we could feel the first stirrings of panic now, we were still very confident about School B. Our son’s performance at the interview had definitely merited a 9.5 if not a perfect ten. After all the teacher taking the interviews had himself praised our son.

I reached school B early on the day results were to come out. The list of selected candidates had been put up on a notice board outside the main building and a small group of parents were craning their necks at it. I scanned the list from top to bottom once, twice and again for the third time – our son’s name was not there. I hung around for a few minutes letting this disaster sink in. I also realized that all the parents jostling in front of the notice board seemed rather agitated. I realized with a shock that none of the people standing in front of the notice board at that moment had been successful. Exchanging notes with some other parents I gathered that many other candidates had been praised quite effusively by their respective interviewers just as my son had been. Yet none of these ‘praiseworthy’ candidates had actually been selected.

Back home, my wife and I were putting up a brave face but the tension was now palpable. School A results were still more than a month away and we had least hopes about it now. We were earnestly looking at admission procedures for another 3-4 schools (including my old school) which we had not considered earlier. The evening coaching sessions had also resumed in full steam but all of us were getting quite sick of them by now. Then, just when we were pretty close to breaking, God decided to give us a break.

I was at work one afternoon when my mother called me, almost incoherent with excitement. Someone from School B had called home and would I contact them immediately? I did and was informed that one or two seats were still vacant and if we were interested we could come over on such and such date and time to admit our son. Once the news sank in, our primary emotion was one of overwhelming relief that the evening coaching sessions could be done away with.

Of course there had to be one more twist in the tale. On the day prior to the stipulated date for admitting our son, a former chief minister passed away and next day all schools were closed. Following frantic phone calls, we were given a fresh date for admission five days later. This time there was to be no further hitch; it seemed an anticlimax to actually deposit the fees and admit our son to a school of our choice.

On our way back home, my wife announced that although she was delighted to have made it to School B, she was still keen on School A. So even if our son did not make it this year, we would, of course, check with School A next year, for vacancies in the second grade. I am just keeping my fingers crossed that next time they don’t ask my son to choose between chocolates and me!

Chillibreeze's disclaimer: This is a contributed article and was published on Chillibreeze in March, 2010. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not reflect the views of Chillibreeze as a company. Chillibreeze has a strict anti-plagiarism policy. Please contact us to report any copyright issues related to this article. The relevance of the facts and figures cited (if any) could change after a period of time.

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—About our writer:

S.N.Tagore is an English Literature graduate with an M.B.A. Based in Kolkata, he is the promoter – Managing Director of Meridian Inks Private Ltd, a company manufacturing offset printing inks. He writes articles, travelogues, reviews, business reports and does translations from Bengali to English & vice versa. His work has been published in leading journals including The Statesman & Indian Literature (Journal of Sahitya Akademi).

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