Of little gentlemen serving as groundsmen, and Patricia, math geek who fell by wayside

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Now that the nation is in the grip of exams fever, witnessing real-time the spectre of student grades that turn from A to B with the ease of a camouflaged chameleon, I call to mind those days of our lives when we ate, slept and dreamt grades.

I was still in lower primary, a bit distracted, like most students who sit by the window, so that what the teacher said was flavoured by the background noise. My math teacher, one Mrs Kiragu, instilled fear of the Lord in us and prophesied that if we couldn't hack the math, we'd work as farmhands for Patricia, who was the brightest in class.