I understand the debate over the CSAT pattern. As an English trainer, I face it in class every day. I do not think it is enough to merely know the rules of the language, as some of the supporters of the English test seem to be saying. In spite of being a trainer myself, I, curiously, stand with the crowd who feel disadvantaged at the presence of English on the test.

For those who have grown up in English-speaking households or attended English-medium schools, felicity with the language is a given. There is also the argument for English being a connector between the different regions of India. Yes and yes. But so often in these debates, the language itself is treated simply as a tool, another skill that needs to be mastered. It is here that I think young people who have not grown up around English rightly say that they feel disadvantaged.

I speak from experience. A lot of my students, especially for exams like Bank PO (Probationary Officer), are uncomfortable with the language. The trouble with teaching English to a demographic that does not often use it is that they – some of them, for sure – get vehement about “rules”. So, it’s ok if you are trying to explain why “tell” is wrong and “speak” right in the sentence: “He always tells the truth.” But it’s not so easy to make them see why “says” too is wrong. “He always says the truth.” Sounds wrong! “Have an ear for the language”, I tell them. “Not everything is rules.”

Seeing the confused look on their faces, I proffer: “When I use ‘say’, I assume that a conversation is already occurring. He says, ‘Let’s meet up.’ I say, ‘Not today.’ It’s understood that there are two people, even though the need for an object, as with ‘tell’, is not apparent. Therefore, ‘speak’ in this example instead of ‘say’.” I made that up. I have no clue if there is a better reason.

Another time, during a discussion on vocabulary, we come across the word “usurp”. A student chimes in excitedly: “Lending at exorbitant rates”. He is touchingly confident of his answer. He has spent weeks memorising Norman Lewis and Barron’s word lists. Sadly, that is no way of learning English. Of course, he is wrong. The meaning he shouts out attests to “usury,” not “usurp”.

I often ask myself: How do I get them to use English as a breathing language and not treat it as a device that can be mastered by rote? One option is for them to read. Read widely and deeply. Sure, some of them don’t like it. But if I enforce targets, they come around to it.

(Thanks to the Internet, my job is easier. I tell them to read articles, editorials, essays, oped pieces, narratives and others online. “Spend time with a piece. Try to understand how the argument is developed, what words are used for effect, what are peaks and troughs in voice. Get a feel for the language. Relish it.” I advise them. They look excited but I wonder how much of the excitement translates into real gains.)

When I put myself in their shoes, I discover new-found respect for them. They are remarkably open to my suggestions, and readily accepting of the idea that English will come to them in fits and starts, with long hours of careful practice, and it would be years before they gain the confidence and mastery to use the language for humour and irony. Indeed, to assume that a language can be mastered for the purpose of an exam is so presumptuous as to neutralise all arguments in favour of the CSAT.

Since I have been teaching for some time, I have a fair idea of the kindness of my students. Kindness as reflected in the heartbreaking way they encounter defeat in their constant struggle to master this confusing language. English can be a harrowing learn.

When I try to parse their attitude, strange insights jump into my head. I have noticed, for instance, that students from business families are more open to appreciating the nuances of language than those with salaried backgrounds. The other day, during a sentence correction exercise, the class debated articles – “a”, “an” and “the”. The sentence to be corrected was “It does him a little good when the system goes down.” The “a” is misplaced. The author is expressing disappointment, so there is no need for the article.

As the debate progressed, and we looked at different uses of articles (“The lion is a ferocious animal,” not “Lion is a…”, and “He is an MA,” not “He is a MA”), it was clear that the class was split into two groups. One, those who wanted to close in on every possible aberration and choke the rules by adding endless lists of “This too is possible…” The others were those who understood that there were some basic rules, beyond which one must avoid looking at English as a monster to be beaten and whipped and subjugated.

Not surprisingly, I connect viscerally to the latter group. They know how to appreciate a well-written piece and take away more than what would appear, on the first read, the sum of its parts. With them, I can discuss a poem and know that our brains are emitting the exact same electrical signals on certain phrases and the same spark of excitement is coursing through our bodies when a particular stanza closes.

Invariably, this group is from business families. I am not even talking about the rich SoBo dudes and dudettes who live on Worli Sea Face and drive to college in Audis. Nope, not those. I refer here to middle-class business families that run small shops or showrooms and, by standards of business families, lead rather modest lives.

So, it’s not about money. It’s culture. Growing up in a business family, in my view, attunes a person to be more accommodating of differences. The focus is on the customer. If it sells, it’s good, and for it to sell, the customer has to like it. The spotlight is on an external agent, and it’s vital to submit to customer-centricity if the business is to survive.

Not so for salaried households, where the focus is more internal. Study hard, get good grades, go to an IIT/IIM and make your life. It’s very straightforward, very upright, but also, for those reasons, less willing to comply, to compromise, to settle.

Maybe I am over-thinking. Maybe not. Whatever the reasons, I do wish there wasn’t such a clear demarcation among my students between those who allow language to revel in its eccentricities and those who would sooner take a gun to it for its waywardness.

Perhaps then, we need our lawmakers, who have no compunction in sending their children to the best schools in India and abroad, to renew their focus on providing decent English education from the primary stage. Let us not discredit the arguments of CSAT aspirants on the basis of spurious notions of language and flimsy ideas of connector languages.