Teaching to the test

Up until the first week of June, I was busy conducting group discussion (GD) and personal interview (PI) sessions at the common admission test (CAT) preparation centre. Classes were packed with students itching to speak their hearts out. The GDs are faux-gladiatorial affairs. Participants take out the best linguistic and argumentative ammunition they possess to defeat opponents. If students excelled at speaking on “India needs a national hostage policy” (Maoists, IC814, Rubaiyya Sayeed and so on), they made an utter hash of “Red is not red enough”. The only way to crack an abstract topic such as this is to relate it to a real-life situation and explain how the essence of the thing, denoted by red in this case, was not strong, or good, enough to save it. Communism, for instance. Or, the red of the vermilion denoting marital fidelity at a time of breaking marriages.

Overall, though, GDs are easier to conduct than PIs, which are a different kettle of fish entirely. Students often harbour views they would not share in public that we, as trainers, have to draw out. This is no mean feat. It involves being conscious of their sensitivity levels and an ability to handle criticism. If one is too harsh, one risks doing more harm than good.

The other day I interviewed Prathmesh Javadekar. When I asked him to introduce himself, he said: “I am Prathmesh Javadekar and I am a proud Maharashtrian.” I let that pass. There is no point interrupting students midway but I made a mental note to bring this up.

In the middle of the interview, I decided to test him. This is our conversation:
I: Prathmesh, you are Marathi. Is that correct?
PJ: Yes (beaming).
I: Do you have any non-Marathi friends?
PJ: Yes, several (still beaming).
I: If tomorrow, members of the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena, or MNS, came to your house and said they would only let you live in Maharashtra if you supported them in throwing out your friend, what would you do?
PJ (after much thought, the beam diffusing): I would disagree with them. Nobody can send people out of Maharashtra when they are not disturbing the peace here. But I agree that Maharashtrians should have first right to jobs.
I: You are a software engineer, Prathmesh?
PJ: Yes.
I: If you had an offer to work at Infosys, would you take it up?
PJ: Absolutely!
I: Now imagine you join Infy in Bangalore and a Kannadiga comes up and says he has first right on that job since he is a local. What would you say to that?
PJ (stumped): If the Kannadiga is better than me, I would let him have it.
I: No, he is not better than you. You both are equally qualified. But he still wants that job because he is from Karnataka.
PJ (distressed): If we are both equally qualified, then he can have the job.
I: Really? You really believe that, or are you just saying it to justify what you said earlier about Maharashtrians?
PJ: No, I really believe it.
I: Then why have India as a Union? Let’s have individual states as separate countries since locals, in your view, should have first right on resources.
PJ (realising that the interview is going nowhere, smiles): Sir, I didn’t mean it like that.
I: I know you didn’t. You are welcome to have any views but you cannot use them to discriminate in a professional setting.

He nodded but looked crestfallen. To cheer him up I said something that I regretted later: “Prathmesh, look at it this way. Personally, I think Hindus are a very tolerant lot. Pakistan has backstabbed us multiple times but our prime minister still goes ahead and talks of de-militarising Siachen. I wish Hindus had more bite. But I would never say this in an interview. There, I would come across as balanced and accommodating.”

Prathmesh’s face lit up. He nodded in vigorous understanding, but I was already sorry. I was trying to tell him to not be clannish but I ended up saying, don’t be clannish in a professional setting. I had wanted him to not feel bad about his performance but I had gone ahead and given him an uncalled-for interpretation. I had come across as a bigot by conflating India with Hindus. Worse, I had indicated to him a sort of secret concord.

I thought of explaining more, but he said: “Yes sir, I see. I will be careful.” And then there was no more to say without killing the import of the argument. I let it be. But not before kicking myself for overdoing the “get through to the student” spiel. Who said teaching was easy?

Names have been changed to protect privacy.

The writer has switched too many jobs in the past and hopes he can hold down this one