(A glimpse into the forthcoming book “From the Principal’s Desk – A Journey of Lessons“)
Dr Arun Prakash
I must confess something.
In my early years of teaching—at DPS Korba—I believed deeply in marks. Passionately. Rigidly. I used to say that marks define a child. I was ready to write on stamp paper that certain children—especially those who always hovered between 0 and 10 percent—would fail miserably in life. “They’ll be a burden to society,” I said once in the staffroom. And I believed it.
Then came an unusual day.
We were all in a light mood. I decided to try something different. “No subject questions in the next test,” I told the class. “We’ll ask questions from the school almanac—rules, schedules, timings, policies. Let’s see who actually pays attention.”
The test came.
And to my absolute shock, most of the correct answers came from the so-called “duffers.” The ones I had written off. The ones whose answer sheets I corrected with sighs and scribbles. These children knew everything—everything—about the school. They knew timings, holiday patterns, how to apply for leave, the names of house captains, even the theme of the annual function.
I was stunned.
These children weren’t absent from learning. They were deeply present—just not in the ways we were measuring.
And that’s when the truth hit me:
Perhaps it wasn’t the child failing my subject. Perhaps I was failing to make the subject worth entering.
These same children could remember entire films, narrate jokes with perfect timing, shine at social gatherings, charm relatives, entertain guests. But the periodic table? They tuned out.
And today—three decades later—I look around and see them thriving. Successful entrepreneurs. Storytellers. Business owners. Full of life. Full of laughter. Often earning far more than our school toppers.
It’s not that they couldn’t learn.
It’s that we didn’t reach them in time.
And now I believe this with every part of my being:
Marks are not just a measure of a child.
They are also a mirror—for the educator.
