Technology, and the lingo associated with it, evolves at such a rapid pace these days that one can get left out in the cold quite easily. I recently experienced this sense of disassociation (or so I thought) during a bus journey back home, when I heard a boisterous group of industry greenhorns rattle off a serious of acronyms in their conversation that went something along these lines – “JSC, KVR, BLG, NMP, APH” and so on. Though I work in the high tech sector and generally keep myself well informed of the latest developments, it left me momentarily dumbfounded. Piqued by this stream of letters, I tried to pick up on the discussion to be able to put the abbreviations in context. To my surprise, it turned out that these were the names of tuition masters! For the uninitiated, people from Karnataka don’t generally expand their full names, with the initials preceding the given name. Left with a choice of either pronouncing the entire given name (which in most cases will be long) or just shortening it to a single letter and appending it to the existing two, it’s easy to see why the latter is chosen (though it is tempting to elaborate further, I will stop here lest turn this into a full-fledged article on naming conventions). The talk then progressed to who was better at which subject, their quirks and mannerisms, their localities of operations, and reminiscences of the time spent with them.
Indeed, today there are only a handful of students who haven’t been to a tuition centre or class. There are tuition classes available for every subject, at every stage of a student’s life, right from primary school to graduate programs. One can choose from a plethora of coaching classes, or opt for the neighbourhood-famous tutor. Fuelled by the desire of overanxious and overambitious parents for their wards to do well in a fast-moving competitive world, tuition classes have become a ubiquitous part of our lives. Earlier, tuition classes were for students who, for myriad reasons, found it difficult to grasp lessons/concepts taught during regular classes and needed that extra helping hand. Teachers, who could not devote time to such students during the day, would then organize additional sessions – usually involving a lower number of students, allowing them to apportion greater time and attention – perhaps charging a nominal fee. However, as the competition increased, tuition became a mandatory part of the curriculum (in an unspoken, unapproved way) for many, who saw them as a way to improve their chances of scoring more marks. Tuition classes were initially popular for the 10thand 12th Std. exams, as these are considered the most crucial indicators of performance at the school level, before being accepted at other stages of education. Instead of attempting to foster 1-to-1 relationships that may be difficult to achieve in a conventional classroom setting, most tuition classes have instead achieved the opposite: several of these have students in far greater numbers than regular ones, diluting their efficacy and making them factory assemblies, concerned with churning out students with concepts drilled into their heads to achieve higher percentages and grades. Of course, this is not to bemoan tuition classes altogether by putting them into one basket; unfortunately those that do not conform to current trends are the exception rather than the norm.
I can attest to the above as I have experienced several types and styles of tuition in my educational journey to date (joined several of them reluctantly), and shall recount them briefly, not necessarily in chronological order.
When I entered 10th Std., the inevitable happened, and I joined tuition for Mathematics and Science (Physics portions) so that I didn’t get left out of the rat race. The tuition master, though he covered only the State Board syllabus (I was studying under the Central Board), managed to convince my father that he could easily manage both, and had started a separate session for such students that year. It was a bit of a shock to me when I learned that classes would be held in the garage (perhaps not a big deal in hindsight, but more a systematic one at the time as it had only been a few years since I had returned to India from the Gulf, where there were no garages, so I always thought a garage is exclusively for parking vehicles). To make matters worse, the tutor had a brash, direct method of instruction, so there was no time for settling down or making us feel comfortable. On certain days, his sons would act as proxies; the older one would take classes in an impatient and scowling manner, as if it were a punishment meted out by his father, while the younger one was impudent and dismissive. When I think back now, I feel this system was very unprofessional and unethical; taking classes yourself is one thing, allowing your children/others to do it without saying as much that they would belies expectation. The issue with this kind of tuition is that they are run like family businesses; they are unorganized and there is no yardstick they can be held accountable to. Since there is no registration or permission required to start classes and all enrollment happens by word-of-mouth, these tutors get away with doing whatever they please (and also not paying any tax! Since they are running classes as a business and not as a societal endeavour, the extra money from taxes could be used to build additional government schools).
Coaching centres are a slightly different proposition. I had resisted all efforts to join one of these centres for the CET (Common Entrance Test for engineering and medical colleges in Karnataka), having had a bad experience with one of the places for the IIT entrance test. Also, since I hadn’t taken any tuition for the 12th board exams, an argument ensued at home and to call a truce, we settled for a compromise formula: I would take up one of the smaller module packages, in which study material would be provided (akin to a correspondence course), with a few preparatory classes and tests thrown in. The classes were held at a convention hall, to accommodate the 500-odd students who had registered similarly like me. I wondered what one could actually gain from this sort of an environment, where the tutor could hardly be heard if one came late, and interactive sessions were out of the question due to the sheer number of students. I couldn’t really complain though, since if I wanted a more ‘classroom-like’ experience with one-tenth the size, I should have taken up the intensive (and expensive) program the centre had to offer. Anyway, I tried my hand at that too when I enrolled in an MBA-preparation course (for admission to the IIMs if you’re wondering – yes, I’ve been there and done that, just short of being successful in any of these ventures). Here, the class size and the faculty were alright; the study material was good (and so was the program cost), and with a few weeks left for the D-day, things were shaping up pretty well. However, on that fateful day, I got slightly caught out by the new test format (which was precisely the intention of those wizened smart alecs who set the paper), and ran out of time in the last section that ultimately sealed my fate. I later learned that other coaching centres had been able to better equip their students as their preparatory tests had been more probing and testing, and had been able to predict with certain fairness the type of questions that eventually appeared in the test. If I had taken only the preparatory test modules at all these coaching centres, I would have probably had a better shot at making the cut.
The only completely ‘useful’ tuition I have attended is for Sanskrit. When I joined school in Bangalore, I had to choose between Kannada and Sanskrit as a third language, and though I had no idea of the latter, I opted for it as it was supposedly an easier language to score marks in (which was a poor line of thinking at the time, as the language has no real world application; and the manner in which it was taught and learnt, comprehending Hindu religious texts was ruled out). To quickly ramp up my understanding of the subject, I joined a class which was, to my amazement, a 1-to-1 interaction. My tutor was not a conventional one, as she admitted very few students, and was thus able to concentrate solely on me, benefitting me greatly. Although the tuition wasn’t entirely fruitful, as I could not put my learning to practice (in terms of speaking and partly reading and writing the language), I feel it served the intended purpose very well. The tutor was able to achieve what my regular teacher would have been hard pressed to do during regular school hours, and I was able to quickly come up to speed with what was being taught in school, enabling me to feel part of the class and not be left out. Satisfied with the results, I continued for another year, though the sheen was slightly taken off by my classmate also joining, who happened to be the class topper. I could hardly fathom why someone who was already doing well needed extra classes. I later realized that it was to convert her 90-something scores to a full 100, which she eventually achieved in the board exam. Sadly, this is symptomatic of the public at large these days.
Which brings us to the question: Are tuition and coaching classes required? In a democratic setup, everyone has freedom of choice – freedom to setup these centres, and freedom to avail the services offered. Some may be comfortable attending these centres of mass learning, while others may feel the need for a more personalized experience. I have heard a lot of students say there is nothing wrong in going to tuition if they are able to obtain better grades, while others are worried of getting left behind by their peers. My grouse is with the current system of education that lays emphasis on mark-scoring rather than concept-learning, and the attitude of parents and students whose main aim is to secure the highest marks. This is often greatly exposed in everyday life, where problem-solving requires application of knowledge, and not retrieval of information. How often have we heard companies complaining about the poor employability of graduates just out of college? Our high population creates an unnatural competition for limited seats in the best schools and colleges, which we need to address by opening a greater number of high-quality educational institutions. This pressure has meant that the present islands of academic excellence are spending a disproportionate amount of time concentrating on preserving their elite status, while ignoring the need to reform themselves into truly world-class research institutions. By reducing this pressure to excel, students can escape from the claustrophobic surroundings that exist today into a realm of knowledge without boundaries, where each person seeks out their niche area of interest. Sounds idealistic and removed from reality? For sure, there are several challenges ahead. But it can be done if we put our hearts and minds into achieving what we truly, deeply desire.
(Disclaimer: All abbreviations appearing in the first paragraph are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental).