Last Saturday morning, his parents took him to the first formal interview of his life.
For those who do not know,in India,little girls and boys are interviewed for basic English and math abilities before they can be admitted to nurseries in schools.
For a whole week, he was made to recite nursery rhymes,practice writing numbers and revise the alphabets.
Smart as he is, he finished all this in no time, then ran off to fight his imaginary adversary with a 'ninja-sword' (he even goes to sleep with a plastic rod tucked behind him,inside his shirt) combined with his ingenious 'Milja (ninja) technique'.
My little four year old friend, had topped the tests and mock interviews at his prep school. Confident he will do well in the real one, his parents dressed him and marched him to the Principal's office on a Saturday.
The Principal - a respectable grey stern gentleman, looked through his glasses, and asked ' Whats your name?'
The deep voice emanating from such a grim face could unnerve any grown-up.
But sure enough, that was no challenge to my brave young boy-friend, for he stamped his right foot forward, as if to crush a gnat, narrowed his eyes, looked straight at the man, drew out his imaginary sword and declared in his gravest tone, 'I am Milja Hattori,beware of my sword !'
He was admitted anyway. He is about to start classes from spring.
For those who do not know,in India,little girls and boys are interviewed for basic English and math abilities before they can be admitted to nurseries in schools.
For a whole week, he was made to recite nursery rhymes,practice writing numbers and revise the alphabets.
Smart as he is, he finished all this in no time, then ran off to fight his imaginary adversary with a 'ninja-sword' (he even goes to sleep with a plastic rod tucked behind him,inside his shirt) combined with his ingenious 'Milja (ninja) technique'.
My little four year old friend, had topped the tests and mock interviews at his prep school. Confident he will do well in the real one, his parents dressed him and marched him to the Principal's office on a Saturday.
The Principal - a respectable grey stern gentleman, looked through his glasses, and asked ' Whats your name?'
The deep voice emanating from such a grim face could unnerve any grown-up.
But sure enough, that was no challenge to my brave young boy-friend, for he stamped his right foot forward, as if to crush a gnat, narrowed his eyes, looked straight at the man, drew out his imaginary sword and declared in his gravest tone, 'I am Milja Hattori,beware of my sword !'
He was admitted anyway. He is about to start classes from spring.
That's my Gogo :)
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