ORGANIZED STUDENT LIFE: STRIVING FOR GOOD MARKS AMIDST FUN

People say student life is the best. Being a student was never a hard time for me. I have had enjoyed my academic life always. During school life, I managed to have a good student image but that doesn’t mean I never had fun. People say a student’s life should be organized and student should make the best of it. This is because student life is the phase where we grasp things quickly. Parents always ask their children to focus on their studies and to befriend the intelligent ones in their classes. At times it may happen that we get envious of intelligent children and would try to compete them. In that case we might end up getting our routine upside down. So how can we achieve an organized student life?

If I talk about myself, for me my academic life was always organized. I knew my caliber and strengths. Instead of being envious of toppers I used to work on my interest areas and tried to improve my grey areas. When I was in school my routine was fixed. It was my habit to wake up early, get fresh and start my day. I would go to school and there I would engage myself in whatever was being taught. However, I was never a studious girl. I just studied to learn new things and not more than that. Apart from studies, I used to participate in some of the extra-curricular activities but that was limited. When exams approached I would turn into a book worm and fortunately I got good marks. During college life too I was never so studious. I would attend classes and would study to learn what was being taught.

After I have passed out from college I feel I should have been more studious. It’s not that I slept late, woke up late and didn’t study appropriately. I mean to say the way I was organized during my school life was way better than my college life. Though I was a fun loving girl in college, I knew study is what I have to do on regular basis. During my entire student life, one formula that helped me a lot is- setting up goals. I remember when I was in my 10th standard, the short term goal was to work hard for final exams. I used to study for long hours. I did this, not because of the fear of exam but because I knew this is the only way that will help me to study for my exams. Despite of studying for hours I never forgot to enjoy my days and take rest. I had made a schedule and I followed it. In college, few more things got added up to the study schedule, they were: study buddies, watching short movies and taking up the notes. Every morning I would wake up and would start my day. No matter what happened I ensured I read atleast a page, not just for the sake of reading. This helped me in learning so many things. However I was never a topper. Honestly speaking, I never studied for getting good marks.

I enjoyed every single day. I went for partying with my friends but I ensured that study and party never gets mixed up. I feel proud that I never had an issue of low attendance. A good student is the one who knows what they have to do and plans accordingly. Whether you are in school or college, your focus should be on grasping things, utilizing the resources provided to you. Setting short term goals and striding towards the long term goals can really help us in making the best of our student life. When we study in groups then we learn things quickly. Apart from this, one must focus on keeping student life away from other things. I am not saying we should not get indulged in some other activities but having a balance between everything can really be helpful in making the best of our student life.

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​THE BUCKET THAT OVERFLOWED…

I am sure I have many embarrassing moments in my life. But when I really got down to writing about them my brain froze. It must be one of those survival tactics of my brain which blocks out all unpleasant memories. Anyways I want to share an embarrassing occasion of my life which might not be very hilarious but it really made me look like a fool.
I was in class XI. And like any other teenager I had a huge stage fright. I had done many dance performances on stage but what really scared me was the mic. Addressing an audience was not my cup of tea.

A debate competition was being organised in our colony. Since the number of kids in my age group were less they we coaxing all of us to take part. I flatly refused. But don’t know why my Dad was keen that I take part. Maybe because he wanted to pull me out of my shell or maybe because he has been so good at these kind of things and he must be hoping that I would follow his footsteps.

Whatever the reason I found my name in the list of participants. I haughtily declared that I won’t put in any extra efforts. I told my Dad that since he has given my name as participant he will have to write the debate for me. My dear Papa helped me prepare. He almost wrote the whole debate for me with some very brilliant points in it. I should have cashed in on this splendid opportunity but I went around behaving like I was doing them a favour by participating.

To cut the long story short. I was finally on the stage. And I almost read through my speech in a monotone. And came back to my seat. “Phew it’s over and done with. Thank God.” And then they announced the question session or something like that where debaters can question or challenge the points raised by other debaters. “Oh My God! Now what is this? No one ever told me about this.” And to my horror one debater got up and challenged a point in my speech. I was supposed to get up and reply. But I didn’t have any clue. “I was not paying attention when I needed to and now I am in a soup.

I got up from my seat went up to the mic and did what any normal teenager does in such a situation. I burst into tears.  That’s what my system does to me. The buckets in my eyes overflow easily and at all the wrong times.

I was mortified, I rushed from the stage. And to add salt to my already wounded ego finally when the prizes were announced I was given the consolation prize.  It felt like they were pacifying a cry-baby. I feel sorry because I must have embarrassed my Dad also after so much hard work that he put in for me. Well! I guess we all have a few moments in our lives that we want either to erase or change. 

(PICTURE CREDIT: GOOGLE INC.)

COMPULSIVE LIAR I WAS….

*Note: I wanted to narrate an embarrassing and awkward situation where I was locked in a toilet as I goofed up between Push and Pull but since my friend Pradita penned such a hilarious incident around Toilet, I didn’t want to repeat myself, so here I go…

Before you jump your guns let me finish the title.  I “WAS” a compulsive liar as a child when it was about home work (that’s it). I loathed it.  I preferred scanning books and digesting the content rather than filling pages (I wasn’t an environmentalist either😂) except for mathematics, because that’s the only way to practice that practical subject.

In that wake my notebooks were always (more or less) incomplete. For example if an exercise had five questions I would submit the work with three.  Rest decoration scores. But I had a trump card up my sleeves that I played really well for years. I was an asthmatic patient as a child that kept me absent quite often from school. With such health issues it showed on my outwardly appearance, I was feeble, lean and thin. So whenever homework was demanded  and i knew it was incomplete, that used to be time for Lights, Camera, Action!  I woul act naive with a face drawn long saying ” Mam, I wasn’t well, couldn’t finish my homework, I am sorry” and would smoothly escape from their wrath as my teachers loved me immensely.  I am thankful for their love.

A lie is a lie nevertheless and this time I was in soup.

But curtains were drawn soon to my act. I was in seventh standard, it was English class, notebooks were on teacher’s table. Notebooks were coming back to students with remarks and signatures.  And it was then my turn.  Pages were being turned, so are the colours on my teachers face before it finally settled at red. And I knew that I was caught and game over.  There was a huge difference in handwriting. My mother finished my notes as I was really down with fever.  She only wanted to help me.  She used to do it for me whenever I was unable to attend classes but this time it was directly in notebook.  Bad decision or decision turned bad but purely bad luck.

My English teacher was furious this time and she didn’t finish yet as my science teacher along with my Hindi (Indian language) teacher entered the classroom and soon they knew the reason for their colleague’s flaring up tempers.  They had same set of complains to make. It was like 123 Jet Set Go! “Her notebooks are never complete, everytime she has same excuse.  Bring us your other notebooks” pat comes a booming sound and the bad day was getting worse.  Story was same.  I had just one notebook where as the second one was happily laying eggs at home that fateful day. I felt cornered with shame. It was so embarrassing that I wished either it was a dream or if I could travel back in time and finish my notebooks with my own handwriting.

Being a bright student and one of teachers’ favourite I never faced such a flak and that too in front of the whole class.  I couldn’t lift my eyes from ground but could feel another 39 pair (correction – 42 pairs) of eyes fixed on me.  And to make the matter worse my science teacher passed an ordinance ” you are not going anywhere till you finish your work”, she was stern fortunately to be softened little later.

I learnt that day that one shouldn’t overuse the “Sympathy Card” till it tears away leaving you embarrassed beyond words could explain.  But I am fortunate enough that my teachers don’t remember me for that incident.  They have fond memories of me.

THE GOOD TEACHER

I was in my ninth standard. The distribution of computer weekly test paper was in progress. Few of the students surrounded Mr. Rituraj Pradhan, our computer sir. He was fairly new to the school and had made a pretty good impression on us students. Even though I struggled in computers and Java was way beyond my limited scope of Computer understanding, I put in lot of effort. The students negotiated with him for some increase in marks, and few of them even got into an argument for his corrections. It was the usual scene which all of us would have experienced during our school days. Everyone discussed about their scores. The toppers complained about getting 21/25 or 22/25. The lesser lights were happy with a 10/25 and some did not care about their single digit scores.

I had scored a very decent 19/25 in my paper. I went up to our sir for enquiring about the correct answer for a question. As I went near he turned towards my face and shouted on top of his voice commanding me to get back to my place. I shivered a bit shocked by his rage. Everyone who had been trying to get the scores added up took a step back and graciously returned to their seats. I was back at my place trying my best to calm myself. The period got over soon. The 10 minute short break followed. I went out of the class to get a breath of fresh air outside. A friend shared his Tiffin with me. It was roti and chana, and it was tasty. We got back to our classes and eagerly waited for the lunch-break. I enjoyed the football in the afternoon. It refreshed me from the morning showdown. I felt much better after that.

The afternoon session had a computer practical period. The post-football fatigue made it very difficult for me to stay awake in the first period after the lunch. I looked at my watch wishing for the class to get over soon. The next class was the computer practical and I wanted to sit inside the air-conditioned computer lab which would help in relaxing my overworked calf muscles. I was looking at the monitor trying to understand the piece of code when Rituraj sir tapped on my shoulder. I greeted him formally. The next few lines he uttered were completely unexpected. He genuinely apologized for shouting at me in the morning class and there was no pretence in his words. He sounded very sincere and I was overjoyed by this action of his. A deep sense of respect grew for him, even though he was not the best ever teacher but his best efforts never seemed fake.

Apologizing is the sign of a strong character and Rituraj sir was one. I have never forgotten that act of his, a teacher saying sorry to a student for shouting at him. Teachers with nature like his can really move the students in the forward direction and certainly make them better human beings. The last time I heard of him was when I paid a visit to my school during the summer vacation after my 2nd semester of college. He was suffering from a kidney ailment and there was a notice which requested the staff and students to contribute for his treatment. I have no clue to where he is now. I wish and pray that he is healthy and still making a positive impact on the people around him.