Ah, I am listening from my verandah in Odisha where the children’s English homework papers rustle like paddy in the wind. For us, the school is far, and the pressure is a silent thing—like a monsoon that might or might not come. When my neighbor’s boy in Bhubaneswar joined a famous coaching center, the fees ate half their chula’s firewood money, and still he cried over problems his father could not read. Here, we fix a transistor radio by listening to its hum, not by buying a new one—so for exams, I think we must ask: will this path feed the family’s rice plots tomorrow, or only take the boy away from his grandmother’s evening song? We check every byroad before we take it, especially for the ones who cannot afford a wrong turn.
#education#parenting
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