Group Tuition: Where Childhoods Go to Die

Humour

Group Tuition: Where Childhoods Go to Die

Illustration: Akshita Monga/Arré

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eing a teenager in the mid-noughties was a wonderful thing. We spent most of our preteen days being duped into buying fattening potato chips for the decade-long Ponzi scheme known as Tazos. We were the ill-fated generation that stomached unhealthy amounts of bubble gum just to use our spit as lubricant for temporary wrist tattoos. Free periods in class were spent playing WWE trump cards on a back bench. We were also the last generation that grew up on Channel V and MSN Messenger.

An oft-overlooked part of our millennial childhood has been how much time our generation has spent in dingy classrooms across different parts of the city in the name of “coaching”. At its core, group tuitions are where your parents send you when they can’t afford day-care. I kid; it’s because you either lack responsibility or the intellect to study on your own. But the real purpose of a group tuition is to coach you in the important rite of passage of playing footsie.

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