In my family (and generally most Indian families I know) Matric is seen as a definitive point of ones life. For a lot of people, your worth WILL be measured by how many A's you get at the end of that year. I hear people saying, "Yes he's a brilliant chap, got 7 A's in his Matric year" (this may ignore the fact that aforementioned "He" is now a drug addict who sleeps on the beach). Or I end up having my mother ask with fear, "Su, you will get all A's at the end of the year? " after she hears a horror story of a "Golden Child"* who failed a few subjects and can't get into university. Do you know many hours I've spent consoling and reassuring her that I will not fail? A lot.
[* Golden Children are often just rotten kids who get gilted by Mummy and Daddy Dearest who go out of their way to inform you how brilliant their offspring is. Repeatedly. At. every. Single. Family. Function... Twice]
I feel like there's some sacred but secret Indian tradition called "Push your matriculant into the Psych Ward with a Nervous Breakdown". I honestly believe that it exists and should be put into writing so at least we know what to expect. It starts before you even begin the school year, it begins as the matrics of the previous year get their marks back and everyone is frantic to know if Pushpa's son did better than Bobby's daughter or if Seema and her boasting paid off with her child getting brilliant marks. Everyone is calling each other and congratulating Polly's son for his one A in Life Orientation (somewhat a private joke in South Africa as it is probably the most redundant subject ever taught, much less required by the Department of Education) and oh everyone just goes crazy! And you're on the couch, scared as hell!
Then there is my dear sweet Mother... Back where we started with the fear in her eyes and the flushed look on her face and the question, "You won't embarrass me like that Su? Because Polly always said how brilliant her son was and see what happened?".
Thereafter I told her that Polly lied because her son was the sort of boy who could tell you how to spike your hair up and when to wear fake FUBU shirts to the mall but he could not remember why Animal Farm by Orwell was an allegory. Obviously this reassurance was not enough ( I've learned to block out the questions about exams and Finals now) and it pops up now and again. I've learned to deal with it. But it gets worse, much much worse.
I'm not sure if you're familiar with the organism referred to as an Aunty ( Homo Auntyous obnoxious ) but I am. Commonly found in their natural habitat (a lounge with many doilies or a relatives house) and on occasion fanning themselves with punjabi scarves on a plastic chair at a family wedding/funeral/prayer/event. You will recognise this breed of Aunty by the shrill pitch of voice and a steely glare as they size you up to tell you how fat or dark you have gotten since they last saw you. They ask you your age and then mutter "Ahh in Standard 10*? Working hard? Will I see your name in the paper with all A's? Do you have a boyfriend? What are you going to study next year!!?" The trick is to smile and nod at everything except the Boyfriend question and then to mention a prestigious university and a "Good" career choice at the relevant points ( good= Doctor, Lawyer, Engineer, Accountant ). And even agree when they say you've put on weight and compliment their garish sari blouse too. Then walk away quickly !
*[Standard 10 is Grade 12 but for older people- I would explain but I have no kicking clue why it happened that way. I just add 2 years to the standard and nod .If you do know why, leave a comment... Please]
Now the counterpart to Aunty is Uncle (Homo uncleis Boringous) who is characterised by his pot belly, a full mustache that is his pride and an insistence to hug you even though you want to shake hands (I don't like hugging old men who smell of cigarettes ). You may run into Uncle as you escape Aunty and he WILL interrogate you-
You: (being the polite child you are, you greet the uncle who is tipsy and scowling at his glass of watered down whiskey) Hello Uncle. *extends hand to shake his but you get pulled into a hug *
Uncle : (Coughs and squints until he vaguely recalls who you are) Ahh you! In Matric eh? You remember how I used to visit when you were small?
You: Not really uncle, but yes I am I Matric
Uncle : ( asks odd questions about your parents , obscure relatives ) (Then begins to tell you why being an Accountant is the best option for a career because you won't be happy but at least you'll be rich and how choosing law will never benefit anyone)
You: I'm so sorry, I think Mummy needs me to get something for her.. * tries to walk away*
Uncle: No no, *continues *
You: * sits patiently until your mother decides to rescue you after an hour*
The Uncle is far more dangerous than the Aunty. Avoid at all costs, lest they invite you on "The FacingBook".( That was a true story, and yes I did get a Friend Request that was ignored until it went away)
My tips on surviving this last year of school are as follows:
1) When asked about your schoolwork, respond with how it's harder than ever( Even if its as simple as Life Orientation's booklet on Coping with Stress) and you are applying yourself to your work diligently.
2) Avoid family gatherings in this last year of school if possible and if you MUST go, fake laryngitis and cough when approached by an Aunty or Uncle
3) Ignore what happened to Tina's sisters' neighbour's child when they studied until 4am and became a president. Study the way that works for you (and dammit, get enough rest. Tina's someone's someone's child was an idiot who blanked out during Finals because they broke down, the President thing was a lie to make you want to compete. Don't fall into that trap)
4) Don't let people's comparisons and comments get to you. This is your year, not an audition for Idols. Unless its Simon Cowell as your Uncle, he cannot be a judge to your standard of excellence
5) If you're gonna aim to be a Golden Child, make sure that that gold is the standard of your choice. 9 karat or 24 karat, it's you who decides.
6) Don't forget to compliment the Aunty's garish sari blouse that doesn't fit!
That's as much advice as I have right now, I'm currently avoiding Mother and a box of past papers she's brought for me to work through and I'm trying to relax for a little before the humdrum of Trials and then Finals begins. I also have a family thing coming up soon so wish me luck as I try to convince old people that shaking their hands is an alternative. Lastly, if all the above fails, for a few minutes , go curl up under your desk and take a nap. Naps would have saved Tina's fake sisters' fake neighbour's fake kid. But he stayed up and studied like the Aunties said he should.
