COVER STORY

Hackschool Project

# 1: Bad News Day

Illustrations by Abdul Rahim Ashraf

Students against the system. Is that the way to run a school? Or a college, for that matter? 16-year-old Inaya Moin is on her second round to challenge O Levels and comes away with a set of A* grades. Her younger brother, Jasir, at age 13, is facing the classic Pakistani academic dilemma: Matriculation or O Levels? It doesn’t get any better for someone who is past these two stages, as we can see when Leena, the eldest child of the Moin family, barely gets into college and heads right back out again. Something has to break to make way for the students of Pakistan, and this time it isn’t going to be the students.

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Bad News Day, commonly known as Result Day, was a dark day for the Moin family. It was a day when all five of them gathered in the living room to discuss the children’s fate.

“I am very disappointed, Inaya,” Mama said. “Very disappointed, indeed. I was looking forward to telling everyone that you got straight As - it’s so easy to say ‘straight As’ - oh, yes, it’s ‘straight A*s now. Still, very easy to say. But, what’s this you’ve got? Four Bs, three Cs and a D - it’s so hard to remember! How am I going to share your result with anyone when I can’t even remember it?”

“I tried, Mama,” was all Inaya had to say.

“Never say ‘try’,” Papa said. “It’s either do or don’t; there is no ‘try’. You could have gotten at least a few As. I never expected straight A*s from you. With you, I knew it was better to keep my expectations low. You weren’t going to make me proud in front of a family of gold medalist doctors and engineers, anyway. But this D grade? How can you get a D grade at school level? It’s beyond my understanding.”

“It’s beyond my understanding, too,” Inaya said. “It was the one I attempted best.”

“There you go again,” Papa said. “Attempt. Try. No, you do your best - no tries, and certainly no attempts. How you are going to get admission anywhere with this result, I don’t know.”

“I’m not going to get admission,” Inaya said. Then, before her parents’ jaws could drop all the way to the floor, she added, “I’m going to take these papers again. All of them.”

“And waste a year?” Mama’s voice rose high. “I am not going to have my young unmarried girl waste her precious youth like that.”

“Mama, I’m just sixteen,” Inaya said. “And before you even think of marrying me off, you have to consider Leena first.” Inaya gestured in the direction of her elder sister, who smiled her small, secret smile.

“Don’t worry about me,” Leena said. “I got admitted into my third choice college. I’m all set.”

Mama sighed. “Leena,” she said, “You could have kept the family reputation in mind. Nobody in our family has ever gone to Women’s Community College. How am I going to tell people what my daughter is doing? Best marks in Matric and FA, and then, goes to a second class college? How does that even happen? I can’t believe your rejection letters. There must be some mistake.”

“Oh,” Leena said. “I can explain. My first choice college was full of applicants who got half a mark more than me. My second choice college was full of people who had ‘friends in high places’ to give a favourable word to the admissions committee in order to secure their seats. That left the third option college for me.”

“I’m never going to be able to live this down,” Mama said.

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Jasir, the youngest child, spoke up. “I’ll make you proud when I become a superstar!”

“Oh, please,” Inaya said. “Focus on getting enough marks to pass into ninth grade, there’s a good boy.” She looked in her parents’ direction. “Did you sign him up for Matric, like Leena, or O Levels, like me?”

“Nobody wants to do O Levels like you did,” Jasir said. “And I can’t score as well as Leena did in Matric, so that obviously means that I should leave school and become a professional gamer.” Jasir punched the air enthusiastically.

The family collectively shushed Jasir before he could become too hyper. Mama and Papa exchanged glances, then Papa said, “This is how it is going to be. Inaya, your two-year O Levels scheme didn’t work out, so I’m going to get you admitted into the last year of three-year O Levels, along with tuition centre in the evenings.” Inaya groaned. “Jasir, you are going to try your best to get good marks and we’ll help you figure out which track of study you are going to take.” Jasir grimaced. “Leena...” Inaya and Jasir turned around to look expectantly at their elder sister. “Leena, you have always been the joy of my heart, and this third option college isn’t going to change that.” Inaya and Jasir sighed. Anything could happen on Bad News Day, but apparently, Leena, the favourite child getting scolded was not one of them.

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Bad News Day had its aftereffects. One of them was the change in Papa’s running commentary during the morning school and college drop-off routine. Papa had the habit of talking aloud while driving. His morning speeches covered everything from the bagged tomatoes hanging off the side of the motorcycle in front of them to the mysterious squeaking noise that persisted in coming from their car no matter which mechanic they went to in order to get it checked. After Bad News Day, however, the topic in the spotlight was one of the children. Every morning, as they piled into the car, making last-minute checks as to whether Jasir had remembered to pack his homework diary and Inaya her hairbrush (as she spent more time at school and tuition centre compared to home, she had life’s basic necessities in her schoolbag, the topmost being her hairbrush), the children would look at each other and wonder who would be the topic of commentary that morning.

One day, it would be Inaya. Papa would drum his fingers on the steering wheel and commence, “So, how are the A*s cooking? Working hard, I hope? After all, you’re spending an extra year of your life chasing down those meanies. Hey, don’t give me that look, now, Inaya dear. This time together in the car is the most I get to see you on weekdays. Otherwise you’re always enclosed within the halls of academia, bless you.”

Another day, it would be Jasir. “How’s my little space cadet? You all ready with your latest plan to reach the moon? Aim for the moon and fall among the stars, I always say. Hmm, what’s that spot on your nose? Leena, clean his nose. Yes, yes, I’m looking at the road. I caught sight of the dirt on his face in the rear view mirror. Eh, that’s a mole? Naturally on his face, you say? I should look more carefully at my own children, dear Lord, if I forget the details of your faces this easily, though Jasir hardly stays still long enough to let me get a proper look at the boy. Study hard, little man! Even astronauts need to know their multiplication tables!”

Leena was the last to be dropped off at college, after the other two had been safely deposited within their schools, so she got a daily dose of Papa’s comments. On the bright side, though, the other two were not there to hear them. It went something like this, “Leena, my dear. So nice to have you to myself for this little part of the day. I remember when I was in college. I used to be in the hostel, and I would get up early to run laps in the sports ground! How the other students used to admire me as I jogged! Uhh - well, let’s not get into the details of that. Suffice it to say that your mother was not one of the admirers. She attended the other campus of the college. It’s something I always have to point out to people when they find out that both of us as a couple have the same alma mater, because they assume that we were classmates. Moral of the story is, then, that don’t let separate college campuses hold you back from achieving your dreams! I saw your mother at an inter-collegiate debates competition, if I remember correctly. Oh, I’ve driven past the college gate? Oh dear, oh dear, I do get lost in remembrances, so. Let me make a U-turn at the next ... what is that? The whole world needs to do a U-turn at this juncture? Don’t worry, Leena, I’ll get you to your first class on time! It’s a good thing we made Jasir skip his cereal and grab a protein bar this morning, didn’t we? We saved some minutes for the road!”

Mama was not to be left behind in voicing her thoughts to her children. Inaya missed her mother’s summarization of the day’s events at evening tea time, because that was the time when the tuition centre van carted her off for her after-school studies. Leena had tea-making duty, and Jasir’s job was to make sure that everyone got a fair share of the biscuits, with him getting an extra one for his trouble. Mama would sit with her cup of tea by her side, Jasir’s homework diary open in her lap, feet upon the footstool, observing her family’s movements as they listened to her. One day’s teatime tales went thus, “Leena needs to have her wardrobe updated, as she is a college student, after all, and she has caught and torn her newest shirt in the door again. There’s a sale going on that will have just the right thing for her, and perhaps something durable enough for our boy, you got into a playground fight again, didn’t you? I can tell by the state of your uniform. When will you outgrow your boyishness and become a gentleman, I suppose that’s what the world wonders ... you can tell which direction he takes upon coming home from school by looking at the trail of boots, belt and socks from the front door to his bedroom door. Thank goodness he waits until he enters his room before removing anything further. Jasir, did you just take Inaya’s share of the biscuits? You know it’s not fair to her as she doesn’t get home until after nightfall. You don’t get your extra biscuit today, then.”

As it turned out, Inaya did not miss her tea and biscuits after all, as she announced herself “not hungry” upon arriving home from the tuition centre.

“That’s the strangest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” Leena said, as Inaya went to her room. “Inaya is always peckish, if not outright hungry. What’s gotten into her?”

“Oh, it’s the mark of a hardworking student, forgetting to eat,” Mama said happily. Leena, however, went into Inaya’s room and demanded an explanation.

“Studiousness killed the - what?” Leena gasped. For Inaya was pouring sweets and junk food from her schoolbag onto her bed. “Where did you get all that?”

“I’d tell you, but you’ll tell Mama and Papa,” Inaya said dismissively, shifting her hoard into a drawer.

“Oh come on, try me,” Leena said.

Inaya smiled and tossed Leena a toffee, which she caught.

“Oh, you’ll never guess,” Inaya said. “Let me tell you...”