Chronicles of an Unlucky Home Tutor

Tutoring is a rite of passage for young Bangladeshis. But even though most of us see it as a lucrative and convenient part-time job, it doesn't always work out the way we plan it.

After barely crawling through my O Levels I followed in the footsteps of my peers; I set on a journey to impart my incomplete, misguided knowledge on others, partly for the greater good, mostly because I needed money to fuel my Pringles addiction.

I was lured in by the promise of easy money and as an “O Level graduate” I felt I was more than qualified to take the responsibility of my juniors. But just as we all have horror stories to share about a few choice teachers, there are also students that spawned from the fires of hell. Over the course of a few articles, I shall use the stories behind my woes, my psychological bruises and my anatidaephobia to show you the dos and don'ts of the tutoring realm.

My first student was referred to me by a friend of a friend, who used to teach her before. The circumstances that led to his departure were murky at best, which frankly, should've been enough of a hint. Nevertheless, tingling with excitement for a chance to finally earn money and be “independent”, I drooled the entire way to the student's home.

I was interviewed on my first day by her grandparents; they appeared to hail from affluent and highbrow surroundings and genuinely cared for their granddaughter. The father worked abroad most of the year but the identity and whereabouts of her mother were shrouded in mystery. I assumed she had passed and being the gentleman I am, deemed it insensitive to bring it up. My gut was telling me something more dubious was afoot but my gut was battling explosive diarrhoea at the time so I ignored it.

The student herself was a joy to meet. Polite, perceptive and eager to learn, I couldn't hope for a better vessel to bestow my broken knowledge upon. We quickly went to work and she managed to absorb everything I explained to her immediately. The first few lessons went as well as can be hoped for, until I started hearing screaming from one of the other rooms. 

I figured it was her siblings roughhousing, but I never saw any of them around the apartment. In the subsequent days the screaming escalated, interspersed with crashes and dull thuds. I began to think maybe my bug-ridden stomach was on to something. 

After some mild sleuthing, mainly on social media, I found out that her mom suffered from bouts of paranoia and aggression. Further grilling told me that the last tutor she had was sent to the hospital as a result of her mom's impromptu rampages. Of course that was enough to make me lose control over my bowels but I tried to soldier on and remain optimistic. That was before I got attacked myself.

With several scratches to remember the incident by, I ran out and never looked back. 

Just goes to show that life isn't all sunshine and Pringles. Before taking on a student, it is important to have references from people who personally know not only the individual but also their families. The monthly wage is not worth a trip to the hospital.