Mom vs. Mid-Terms

So Apparently, We’re Giving Exams Again — But Through Our Kids

I’ve already informed my parents, cousins, neighbours, and even the Amazon delivery guy that I’m completely unavailable for the next two weeks. No, I’m not off for some fancy detox retreat. There’s no detox, no beach, just me, my anxiety, and my daughter’s Class 9 mid-term EXAMS!

Meanwhile, my daughter is sitting by the window, staring dreamily at squirrels like she’s in a slow-motion music video. Every time I ask, she’s always like,

“Ya Ya All done!” WHEN?HOW?WHERE WAS I?

As for me, I’m knee-deep in syllabus PDFs, printing mock papers at 11 pm, and still trying to figure out what’s cut and what’s not !!

Even if I sit ON my child’s study table, legs folded like a Guruji waiting for enlightenment, she would still be distracted, singing, asking for snacks and feeling zero pressure!

Let’s be honest — when we were kids, our parents had no clue what our syllabus even looked like. They didn’t need to. One loud “thud” of my dad’s shoes outside my room, and I’d immediately grab the maths book like I’d been solving algebra since 5 a.m. They never sat down to revise with us — their facial expression alone was the entire “motivation session.” The sound of their breathing near the door felt like a mini exam hall siren!

We didn’t have smartphones or ChatGPT. We had one landline phone that rang like a fire alarm. We studied till midnight, fell asleep drooling on our notes, then woke up at 5 a.m. to cram again.

Breaks? The only break I got was when the electricity went out — and even then, they’d put that emergency light on my desk until that Red Honda Generator went “grr grr” in the background. And no, we never complained.

Now my daughter needs peace, WIFI, snacks, and a climate-controlled environment before she even opens the textbook.”

Oh, and don’t get me started on our parents. They’re just floating through life, watching us melt down with amusement. “Why are you stressing her so much? It’s just exams,” says my mother while sending cookies and snacks like she’s running a dessert delivery service. She’s calm and encouraging, cheering her granddaughter on like it’s a school play !

Honestly - I love the cookies, but why didn’t I get this VIP treatment in 1998? All I got was curd and sugar (because apparently that had magical powers), a lecture, and that smelly hair oil my mom believed would “switch on” my brain like Wi-Fi.

Now? We moms know the chapters, the topics, and the weightage of each question, and have three versions of the same worksheet in case the teacher changes her mind!

I have to mention that one superhuman mom on WhatsApp groups — You know, the Exam Queen. While I’m still trying to figure out which chapters exist, she’s already uploaded answer keys, sample papers, and possibly a time-table for 2030. I genuinely think she sleeps with the textbook under her pillow!

But yes, truth is, I would be lost without them. My kid gives me zero information. ZERO. If it weren’t for those moms I secretly depend on, I’d probably send her to school prepped for the wrong subject!

We’re all the same species now — stressed, sleep-deprived, and low-key, cheating off each other just to keep our kids alive through exams.

Cut to 2025, the tables have completely flipped. I’m now that mom who prints worksheets like it’s her side business, colour-codes the entire syllabus, and makes revision charts like I’m opening my own coaching centre.

We survived exams once. Why are we doing reruns with more wrinkles and less brain cells now?!

As for my daughter? She strolls in like a Bollywood star, does a dramatic bag drop, and goes, “What’s for dinner?” — even though she’s eaten 112 snacks since 4 p.m. Hello? I basically gave that exam in my head ten times today. I deserve a medal, a day off, and maybe my own Netflix

documentary.

While these Kids don’t even wait for results anymore. The moment the exams end, they whip out their phones and calculate their scores, and declare themselves geniuses.

I know I’m totally that over-the-top, hovering mother during exams. I walk around her like a human pressure cooker. But deep down, I genuinely wish she didn’t have to carry all this stress. I wish exams didn’t feel like such a burden - not for kids, not for parents - but more about learning, experiencing, and growing without the drama.

As for my daughter, In her head she’s probably thinking:

“Mom, relax. We’ll figure it out. You turned out fine after writing everything ten times and drowning in hair oil — just let me do it my way. Clean hair, one Snapchat break, ChatGPT… I promise I’ll manage.”

And maybe she will. Maybe these kids actually know what they’re doing. But will I stop panicking? Absolutely not. Not until the next set of exams, or the education system shuts down permanently, or Starbucks starts offering therapy shots with their lattes. Till then… thank God for my Cold Coffee.

Signing off — half a history textbook down, three cold coffees to go.

— Ani