After the mid-term, our class director, Mr Landmine, organised a parents’ conference in the classroom. Because most of us had done a lousy job in the exam, the conference was nothing short of a catastrophe for us.

The hardest was one part of the conference, where the class director arranged for every two study groups to criticise each other. We would have to point out the shortcomings of the other group. Our class is divided into over ten study groups. As leader of my group, I had no choice but to stay behind after school for the conference.

When my turn came, I went up to the podium and spoke ill of the other group in front of the parents. I said that they were lazy and noisy and that they often spoke out of turn. After I was done, my counterpart, Peter, the leader of my paired group, went up and exposed the faults of my study group. Mercilessly, Peter said that members of my group often copied homework and nodded off in class. What Peter said was true and I blushed instantly.

It was so awkward to have to badmouth others in public. How I wished at the moment that the floor would crack and swallow me up. Every second seemed to be dragging forever. The process of condemning each other was the longest ten minutes I had ever had. When the session was finally drawing to a close, I found myself perspiring profusely. All of a sudden, I caught a glimpse of my dear father, perched on a stool in a corner of the room, eyeing me wryly from there.

Oh Lord, I might not survive the evening.