When I was in School, the days I dreaded the most were the ones when the teacher would decide to along distribute the corrected answer-sheets two days after any (not just the bad) exam. I would silently pray every day after a class test (even during High-School) that the teacher would not walk in carrying the bundle of corrected answer papers. God, (I imagine) figured it wise not to answer my prayer then by preponing in the Armageddon or less dramatically making my teacher accidentally burn only my paper; and thus, I clambered through school.
Today, again, after two years of blissfully not having to have my work graded, I am back to the going-to-class grind, therefore resurrecting all my child-hood phobias of receiving corrected papers.
What is it about receiving Marksheets that I don't like? When I was in school, I was (apparently) 'very quiet', 'disciplined' 'listens to teacher'. At least that's what the report-cards said! The remarks section always had a lot of good things to say about me. But obviously, those comments don't matter. It is all those single digit numbers written in red that do. Especially when the exam was out of 100. Following typical Pavlovian principle, the moment I see the bundle of corrected papers under my teacher's arm, I instantly imagine the blend of disappointment, frustration and exasperation on my parents faces, and that makes everything that happens from then on taste like vinegar.
It was only after I grew my beard did I realize that studying could actually be quite engaging, and that it needn't only be a mad race to get good marks, but something you do because you love to think and wrestle with ideas. But in spite of that lofty thought, I did feel a little queasy when I collected my paper from the pigeon-hole today.
Thankfully I got the highest marks (along with 80% of the class). Apparently, they want to grade us liberally to make us feel confident. This particular person who got the same marks as me (and 70% of the class) said; "What must I do to get one mark more?" That threw me into a bout of emotional nausea. Aww... C'mon you! did you join theological studies so you'd top the class for the rest of the year? Did you join to compete? Seriously! Get a life! It's partly because I enough of this rat-race business that I'm into theology!
But upon further thought, I realized that I was kidding myself! My own emotional frustration rose from a primordial longing to top the class myself. May be it's all that frustration of coming last all these years! But on a more serious note, I love theology, (don't quote me on this yet) and campus life, (though that emotion still has nothing to do with the present campus) and hope to make the best of the two years ahead, in spite of the nagging fear of hitting the bottom of the class by the time the month is over.
