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One of the top perks of adulthood is not paying taxes (just kidding, that’s the opposite of a perk). No, the real perk is never, ever again having to attend a Parent-Teacher Meeting.
I cannot stress this enough: PTMs were the true Hunger Games of childhood, except instead of arrows and swords, you were dodging your teacher’s disappointed sighs and your parents’ death glares.
For those who lived a charmed academic life and never faced this ordeal (I envy you), let me paint the scene. It’s Saturday morning. While other kids are watching cartoons, you’re polishing your school shoes to shine like mirrors because you know appearance is your only redeeming factor.
You’re dressed as if extra neatness will hypnotise your teacher into forgetting that you scored 4 out of 25 in Maths. Spoiler: it never worked.
Then begins the march of doom. You walk into school flanked by your parents, the calm before the storm. Teachers don’t just talk about your marks. No, they narrate your entire academic and behavioural résumé. “She talks too much in class.” “He’s easily distracted.” “Very creative, but… underperforming.” That was always the guillotine drop.
And then, of course, came the legendary glares. Parents have a special kind of glare during PTMs. It’s not the angry one or the disappointed one. It’s a hybrid, a low-flame simmer that quietly whispers: “Wait till we get home.”
Sometimes, it was followed by taunts so subtle you almost respected them. Things like, “Did you write the exam with invisible ink?” or “Why don’t you gift your marks to someone who needs fewer?” Classic.
Also Read: Why Does India Have Nearly 1.2 Lakh Schools With Just One Teacher In Each?
The best part? You had to sit there while two adults discussed your future like you weren’t even present. Teacher: “Your child is very intelligent, but lazy.” Parents: “Yes, at home, she only eats and sleeps.” Me: Hello? Still here. Breathing. Existing.
Fast forward to today. I’m an adult. If I do badly at something now, there’s no PTM waiting to expose me. If I burn food, no teacher is reporting it. If I miss a deadline, no parent is glaring beside me. Adulthood has its struggles, EMIs, grocery lists, mysterious back pain at 25, but at least I never have to face the dreaded parent-teacher triangle of doom.
Honestly, if I could go back in time and tell my 13-year-old self one thing, it would be: “Don’t worry. One day, you’ll only get glares from your boss and low-flame taunts from society at large. It’s called growth.”
But until then, I’m going to enjoy my PTM-free life. No report cards, no summoned guardians, no public display of academic shaming. Just me, my independence, and the sweet relief of never having to hear the words: “Your child is capable, but careless.”
Sources: Blogger’s own opinion
Find the blogger: Katyayani Joshi
This post is tagged under: adulting struggles, school nostalgia, parent teacher meetings, indian school life, childhood trauma but funny, humor blog, quirky writing, relatable content, student life memories, growing up desi, adulthood perks, life after school, desi humor, funny storytelling, blog humor, nostalgia trip, desi kids problems, comedy writing, everyday humor, indian parenting
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