Lobo's Lessons

I just had another student coming in, asking to change his marks... Just 5 more marks for an A-.... Just 5 more marks, so the Saudi Government will not take away my scholarship... Just 5 more marks so that I can continue to support my brother who is also studying... The thing is... I liked this chap. He came to class, did his assignments, scored very high for his coursework...but did badly in his finals... He came, but didn't beg... Didn't snivel... Didn't cry... Totally different from the guy who came here last week. I just wish there was some legitimate way I could help him...  But 5 marks is still 5 marks. If I give it to him, where would be my integrity? My trustworthiness?  My honour?  If I don't have these... Then who am I?

Photo credit here . I just spent the last 2 hours getting a certain student to leave my room. He had failed the course due to a few reasons: 1) His English was very weak 2) He regularly skipped classes, and did not even bother coming up with an explanation 3) He missed a consultation assessment, worth 10% of his total marks 4) He missed his final presentation assessment, worth 15% of his total marks 5) He lacked the initiative to even do anything about it until I put out his total marks in the system. Of course by then, the marks would have been finalised Worst of all, he spent two hours in my room pleading, crying, snivelling, just for me to push up his marks. Two hours of my extremely precious time gone... two hours of my life, snatched away from me... Some people just can't accept the universal fact - You eat, you pay... It's just no use crying over spilt milk. And it's no use crying over two wasted hours of your life listening to sob stories...

It used to be that I was almost a stranger to my son. I realised that throughout his first year of his 2 and a half-year life, my son would not feel secure unless his mother was there by his side... It wouldn't even matter if I was around or not... it simply did not make any difference to him. Things got slightly better the next year, but the fact of the matter was that it was nice if Daddy was around, but it wouldn't make too much of a difference, as long as Mummy was there. I may be slightly exaggerating there, but that is how it felt... I would go to work, and 2-3 times a week, come back at night when he was asleep... and when I was home, I would be more interested in relaxing rather than playing with him. But of course I would make the effort if I was feeling up to it. I realised that this pattern was not good for my relationship with my son... So I tried harder. I popped back from work during lunch just to bring him out to IOI Mall, where we'd get an Iced Milo and some...