Intermediate of Science or simply I.Sc. is a rigorous
secondary education provided by university colleges in Nepal. Course of content,
at least during my years, was simply too overwhelming for a two-year program, a
compensatory imbalance created by the lack of content up to the 10th
grade in my opinion. Such an imbalance is probably a result of the government’s
desire to be able to boast a higher percentage of students successfully
completing the 10th grade popularly known as SLC (School Leaving
Certificate), which was and still is quite dismal nevertheless.
It makes me happy to hear that the curriculum has been
revisited in an attempt to reduce the dividing gap between the SLC and the
I.Sc. programs among other things. I think the plan was to phase out the I.Sc.
program and incorporate 10+2 or the 11th and the 12th
grade into regular secondary school education. Arguments can be made for both
sides in this case but an effort to address the lingering problem is laudable
nevertheless.
I was an I.Sc. student when I met Dr. Abb in my own house. Thanks
to my daddy’s connections, she was probably the second white person I had met
in person. Even so, she didn’t feel like an alien as she surprised me by
talking to me in Nepali. She was visiting for a few days then but she had spent
a few years in Nepal as a Peace Corps volunteer.
I was prepared to deliver my sales pitch on how I was the
best fit for the college she was at the time working as a dean for. I had all
the certificates, awards and anything else I thought would be impressive laid
out in a coffee table in our living room sparsely furnished with old furniture probably
brought by mamu as her dowry. Both my
parents, government employees, were straight as an arrow and refused to play
dirty bureaucratic games, which meant that our family was quite disciplined in
being able to make the most out of things, a habit which has served me quite
well in my life.
Being able to impress this lady and find a scholarship to
pay for my tuition was very important and I understood that quite well even at
that age. Besides I couldn’t stop dreaming flying in a jet plane for the first
time in my life and being in a modern country with shiny black streets and fancy
looking buildings I had seen on TV and in daddy’s pictures from his college
days in England.
Heeding mamu’s advice over daddy’s, I served Dr. Abb the
instant Nescafe coffee only to find out that she would have enjoyed Nepali tea
even better. Bad start already! I battled through my English as I explained to
her I had done well in school and was doing well in the I.Sc. program and I
would love to come to USA, which people refer to as the land of opportunity,
for my further studies.
She tried to explain to me what a community college is and
what I should expect but I was in no mood to listen. I was too
involved with my own imagination on what the future could bring. To my own
credit, I did do research on what possibilities and difficulties a community
college education might entail before actually departing for the US two years
later.
Dr. Abb, a Peace Corps volunteer, had helped a few other Nepali
students over the years to secure scholarships to cover tuition at the
community college for the first two years. She had even arranged host families to
live with through her personal contacts. An uncertain future lay ahead after
then but the opportunity was more than I could ask for. I maintained a perfect
4.0 and got into a liberal arts college with all tuition paid for and most of
the room and board covered where I would complete my undergraduate degree.
I have
made a pretty good life for myself but I am sad to say I am a huge
disappointment for Dr. Abb and her noble aspirations. She dedicated a number of
years of her privileged life to learn our language and help those in need. She
didn’t stop trying to help even after coming back to the US. She did her best
by trying to provide an American education to a few Nepali youths who could
make a difference in the country she so loved.
We, on the other hand, have so
far chosen to stay and work in this already developed country. My daddy’s life
in service of our nation has left me with a bittersweet memory of my homeland
and during a decade of my life here in the US, I haven’t been able to decide if I
should ever come back home.
