A Lesson Hidden Behind a 3.5
Published:
Opening
I walked in to see my marks and I walked out seeing myself a little clearer.
A Lesson Hidden Behind a 3.5
The sun was peeping through the window, though the glass was half-covered with a poster about mitochondrial dysfunction. The way to his cabin was lined with similar posters. On the table lay a laptop, still charging, surrounded by a scattered pile of answer sheets. Two chairs stood nearby, one occupied by him. We were called inside, and all thirteen of us went in. And then, it began.
When the semester comes to an end, everyone rushes — teachers hurry to finish the syllabus, students scramble to meet deadlines. But that day felt different. One of our teachers had called us in to show our CIE (Continuous Internal Evaluation) papers. He should’ve done it earlier, but here we were. One by one, he called our registration numbers and handed over the sheets.
Coincidentally, it was his birthday. Before entering his cabin, our class had planned to wish him together, hoping to add a bit of warmth to the moment. But as soon as we stepped inside, the ambience was different so we held back. Without a word, he began distributing the papers.
Almost everyone scored within the same range. It seemed he had his own orthodox standard — no matter how detailed or well-written the answer, the maximum for a 10-mark question was 8, and for a 5-mark one, 4. At the beginning, he had told us, “You should get good marks and make your parents happy.” A few tried to get their marks increased, but he was a stern man. He said, “What will you do with marks? It’s the skill that matters most.”
Yet one of our classmates, armed with charm and persistence, managed to persuade him. He got a small increase, and suddenly, hope arose in the rest of us.
In my answer sheet, for a 5-mark question, I had originally been given 4.5, but it was changed to 3.5. I had written it neatly, with confidence, so I went up to him.
“Sir, you reduced my marks from 4.5 to 3.5 here — any reason, sir?” I asked.
He glanced at the paper. “The diagram is missing,” he replied.
“I drew it on the next page,” I said, showing him.
He frowned. “This diagram is pathetic,” he said flatly — and that was the end of the discussion.
I felt disappointed, not just by the marks, but by his indifference. Still, there was nothing to be done. I quietly returned to my seat. I don’t want to talk about him, whatever he might be, but as I looked up, one of my friends was giving me a look — a silent question in his eyes: When should we wish him happy birthday?
I was quietly angry . The idea of wishing him happy birthday had completely evaporated from my mind. But then I realized — the same friend, who had scored even lower and had been scolded harshly, still wanted to wish the teacher well, to offer a gesture of warmth I couldn’t imagine giving. And here I was, doing better, yet stewing in resentment.
We wished him but not as planned just before leaving his cavin.
What selfishness we carry in our hearts, even for the smallest of things. Had he increased my marks, I know I would’ve been singing his praises to my juniors, calling him the best teacher ever. But the truth is, we often become so wrapped up in our own concerns, so focused on what affects us, that we lose sight of everything and everyone else around us.
In moments like these, we see how easily our feelings shift — not by the worth of a person, but by the weight of our own desires.
Sometimes, what we call unfairness is just a mirror showing us who we are.”
Thanks for reading…
