Last week I attended a ceremony at the school where my granddaughters study. The occasion was the investiture of prefects for the current academic year, one of whom was my older granddaughter. The ceremony was simple and moving, the arrangements impeccable. But what made a greater impression than anything else was the speech given by the chief guest, by tradition an old girl of the school. A high achiever in her field, she could have talked of her accomplishments. Instead, she chose to tell the students what their aims should be, how they should cope with disappointments and believed injustices, how they should turn failure into success, attitudes which she herself attributed to the lessons she had learnt in this school.

It seemed to me that she was speaking of what is sometimes called the ?hidden curriculum?, those aspects of learning that are unofficial, unintentional or undeclared consequences of the manner in which teaching and learning are conducted. Nothing is explicitly said, yet children grow up learning that to cheat is dishonourable, that unkindness should be eschewed, that character in the long run is more important than grades, that a sense of humour is an asset.

Unfortunately the hidden curriculum in most schools tends to sow the seeds in their students of a disastrous attitude to learning. Though not said in so many words, the message that children get is that competition rather than cooperation is expected, that pellets of knowledge will get them further than discovery, that ?right answerism? counts for more than actual learning, that what matters is marks, irrespective of how you get them.

These facets of the hidden curriculum may be attributed to the system under which we operate. But there are other aspects that are more difficult to condone. I am talking of the subtle influence of teachers on pupils about caste, creed and community, about colour, religion and even politics, of status and money.

These reprehensible values are insidiously passed on. A teacher, for instance, will inform her class that the next day is her birthday. She may not ask for gifts in so many words, but her students know what she means and the next day, they vie with each other to produce the most expensive present. Not surprisingly, this subliminal message guides their behaviour through life.

Schools and teachers may not set out to deliberately influence their students. But their opinions and biases are so pervasive that they seem to be absorbed, as if by osmosis, by the students. Which is why, as the chief guest pointed out, children who are exposed to the right values should consider themselves particularly fortunate.