There is one image from childhood that has never left me. After the Common Entrance results were announced, the school playground became a festival of joy. Children ran across the yard calling out the names of their new schools. Parents embraced one another. Teachers smiled with quiet satisfaction. Yet, away from the noise, three girls sat together on the concrete steps beside the taps. Their heads were bowed. No tears. No words. Only silence. It was whispered that they had failed. I have forgotten many examination scores over the years, but I have never forgotten those three children sitting alone while everyone else celebrated. It was the first time I understood that disappointment can be loneliest when surrounded by other people’s happiness.
This week, thousands of children across Trinidad and Tobago will wake earlier than usual. Some will pretend to be calm while secretly counting the hours. Others will sit quietly beside anxious parents, refreshing websites, waiting for a school name that seems, at this moment, capable of determining the course of an entire life. Social media transforms into a rolling scoreboard of celebrations, disappointments and comparisons.
Children, who only weeks ago were chasing footballs, skipping rope and arguing over cartoons, suddenly find themselves measured by a number. It is a remarkable burden to place on an eleven-year-old. No examination should ever convince a child that they are a success before breakfast and a failure by lunchtime.
Yet, every year, some children quietly reach that conclusion.
I have spoken with patients receiving devastating diagnoses, families celebrating miraculous recoveries, and parents welcoming newborn children. One lesson has become increasingly clear: life’s defining moments are rarely the ones we anticipate.
Almost nobody remembers the score that once seemed so important.
They remember the teacher who believed in them. The neighbour who encouraged them. The parent who refused to let one difficult day define them. The mentor who opened a door.
Character has a remarkable habit of outlasting credentials.
That is not an argument against academic excellence. Education remains one of the greatest gifts a society can offer its children. Curiosity should be nurtured. Discipline should be rewarded. High standards matter.
Some of Trinidad and Tobago’s finest doctors, engineers, artists, entrepreneurs, teachers and public servants did not attend the schools that dominate the headlines every July. Equally, many who entered prestigious secondary schools discovered that success demanded far more than an early examination result.
History is filled with people whose greatest accomplishments arrived years after early disappointments. Some struggled academically before transforming their professions. Others changed careers entirely. Many succeeded because adversity cultivated resilience, creativity and determination.
Life asks different questions from those found on an examination paper. Can you solve problems when the answers are unclear? Can you recover after disappointment? Can you work well with others? Can you show kindness when nobody is watching? Can you remain honest when shortcuts seem easier?
Parents also deserve a gentle reminder this week. Children possess extraordinary sensitivity. They hear conversations adults imagine they are too young to understand. They notice disappointed expressions before a single word is spoken. They recognise comparisons with cousins, neighbours and classmates even when names are never mentioned. The words spoken on results day often remain in a child’s memory for decades.
Choose them carefully. Celebrate effort before outcome and praise persistence before performance.
A child who feels deeply loved becomes remarkably resilient. One who believes affection depends upon achievement may spend years trying to earn acceptance that should never have been conditional. Nothing damages confidence more quickly than believing love must be deserved.
Teachers also carry a unique responsibility. Few professions influence society as profoundly. Long after report cards have disappeared and examination certificates have gathered dust, children continue to remember the adults who made them believe they mattered.
Every teacher has encountered the quiet child who eventually found confidence. The restless student who later became an outstanding leader. The struggling reader who discovered a passion for science. Sometimes the greatest contribution a teacher makes is not improving examination scores but preserving a child’s belief in themselves during moments when that belief begins to falter.
To the children receiving results this week… you are far more interesting than a percentage.
Your imagination cannot be reduced to a ranking. Your kindness has no examination grade.
Your sense of humour, compassion, courage and curiosity are invisible to every marking scheme. Continue asking questions, reading, and discovering what excites you.
The school you attend will influence your journey, but it will never completely define your destination. Doors open throughout life to those who continue learning. The future belongs less to those who scored perfectly at eleven than to those who remain adaptable at thirty, fifty and seventy.
Medicine illustrates this beautifully. The best doctors never stop studying. Science changes. Knowledge evolves. Humility becomes more valuable than certainty. Success belongs to lifelong learners rather than early finishers.
Perhaps our national conversation around SEA also deserves reflection.
Achievement is impressive but character is unforgettable. Parents whose children receive their first-choice school should rejoice—but remain gracious. Children are listening. Triumph need not become comparison.
Families facing unexpected results should remember that today’s disappointment is not tomorrow’s destiny. A single examination has never possessed the authority to predict a lifetime of contribution. Years from now, nobody will ask where compassion was learned.
So, as the country waits for SEA results this week, celebrate success generously. Comfort disappointment compassionately. Encourage every child equally.
Most importantly, remind them of a truth worth carrying into adulthood: An examination may open a door.
It can never measure the size of the person who walks through it.
