Representative image of a classroom
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Fifty years ago, I was posted to the VIP Squadron of the Indian Air Force at Palam, in Delhi Cantonment. My four-year-old son was admitted to the KG class of the local Army School. This was an era when strict discipline was widely accepted in schools and rarely questioned by parents.
As first-time parents, my wife and I had made thoughtful preparations to make the idea of school appealing to our son, Ullas. Initially, he showed enough excitement, but it waned rapidly once he began attending classes. We struggled on, hoping that school would soon become routine and that he would settle down. Two months passed, and the situation remained deeply unpleasant for us.
My wife persisted in trying to find the reason for his reluctance, but Ullas remained silent. Finally, after much coaxing, he told us that his class teacher had slapped him for the slightest mischief.
We were furious. This experience defied everything we had learnt about parenting. I asked my wife to speak to the class teacher, but she hesitated, fearing it might worsen matters for young Ullas rather than solve them. Eventually, I assured her that I would take the onerous task upon myself.
I took time off from my office and went to the school, hoping to persuade the teacher to be more gentle. But I ran into an unexpected hurdle.
The class teacher remained quite stern. Apparently, she found Ullas quite naughty. When I explained that my son had begun to dislike school and created quite a daily fuss while being sent off, she remained nonchalant. "That’s your problem; you solve it," she said. "I have a whole bunch of naughty kids. When I fail to persuade them to behave themselves, I am left with no choice except to pull their ears or give them a mild knock.”
I insisted that such conduct was outdated and that modern teaching discouraged physical punishment. But the class teacher stuck to her guns. I then threatened to complain to the headmistress. “You are most welcome," she replied calmly.
I was left with no choice but to raise the level. The headmistress too gave a short shrift to my complaint. “This is an Army school," she said. "We don’t believe in sparing the rod and spoiling the child.”
I was taken aback. I shot my final challenge. “Ma'am, I often fly the COAS (Chief of the Army Staff). On such occasions, the GOC Delhi Area comes to see him off and receive him. The next time he comes, I shall tell him about your regressive attitude."
She remained unperturbed. “Go right ahead,” she said.
As I was leaving, still seething in a fit of rage, she added casually, "And just for your information, the GOC Delhi Area is my husband.”
Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.