A Hilarious Take on Life, Exams, and the Perils of Car Keys
Life is full of surprises, and sometimes those surprises come in the form of a car key stuck in your ear. Yes, that’s right — using a car key to clean your ears is not only dangerous but also potentially life-changing. One day, you might find yourself running at 120 kilometers per hour, just like your car. The car key is meant to start the engine, not your head. So, please, don’t abuse it.
As for pen tops, they are harmless until they hit the nerves of your eardrum. If you ever decide to use a car key again, make sure there’s no petrol in your ears. Otherwise, before you know it, you’ll be saying “vroooooommmm…pipiiiiiiiiiin!” and laughing uncontrollably.
It’s the weekend again, and it’s time to take it easy. Life isn’t hard; we make it hard. Preparing for exams is a common source of stress. Some people say they won’t study, and when they fail, they blame life for being too tough. But let me tell you a story from my past.
A long time ago, I sat for an exam that wasn’t difficult, but I had no idea what was going on because I hadn’t prepared well. The question was something like: “Can Mr. Heel sue Mr. Alanta for not accepting to be the owner of her daughter’s pregnancy?” I knew I was going to fail, so I decided to write anything unrelated to fill the space. The question required detailed analysis, and I wasn’t good at that. Not just math, but almost everything — even nowadays in bed, sometimes. Don’t worry, it’s not what you’re thinking.
When I say I get weak in bed sometimes, I mean when it’s Monday morning and I have to wake up my alarm clock. It’s only when life’s problems keep you awake that you realize you can set the alarm to wake you up at a certain time, but you have to wake the alarm up!
Back to that exam. I answered the question with something like: “Since Mr. Heel used to be an employee of Mr. Alanta, he can sue him.” Then I continued, “the law says Mr. Heel can sue only if it is established through DNA that he is the one. Since the examiner also thinks so and everybody writing this exam knows that Mr. Heel must sue, who am I to say Mr. Heel should not sue; therefore, Mr. Heel, go ahead and sue Mr. Alanta.”
I felt good knowing I had already failed in advance. Who cares!
The BECE candidates are writing their exams now, and I wish all of them ten ones. Some candidates in my village may be chewing the tops of their pens without knowing what to write. In my village, the pen tops become toffee, and they will chew and chew and chew! They pray for the “stop work, pens down” instruction so they can go home and rest. The fortunate ones will make it to big schools, while others will find their X in the computer. They will do well and swim in swimming pools later in life. God should see them through!
Schooling can be interesting, but there’s one thing that runs through all levels from primary school to PhD: we want to go to school, fill forms, pay fees, but we don’t like classes. In Primary 5, the class prefect announces that the Maths teacher is not feeling well, and we jubilate. In secondary school, the value is the same. At the bachelor’s degree level, the story is sweeter: “Lecturer says no lectures today, hurrayyyyyyy!” It’s even sweeter at the Masters level and beyond. Just pray for the lecturer’s car to develop a flat tyre so class gets cancelled.
What I hated most was when the class leader came to announce that the lecturer was late. Late for where? Just cancel the class and let’s go somewhere. The sweetness comes in when the class leader returns to announce that the Company Law lecturer can’t come at all. That’s when adults jubilate.
There’s usually a lady who wears spectacles who is disappointed when the lecturer fails to come. She would likely remind the lecturer about an assignment due. Boys would feel like “kikikiki!” while the lazy ones like me would vex — just because I haven’t done the assignment. Ajeeei!
Despite all these “negative” prayers, we hope to pass our exams at the end of the term. If we fail, we blame the lecturer. If we get a grade C, we say “he gave me a ‘C’ o.” If we get an ‘A,’ we hit our chest in pride, “I got an ‘A.’” God forgive us for our ingratitude.
Do you remember when I and my friend Kofi Boakyi decided to go on a rampage and instigate our course mates to petition the Dean of our faculty? The reason? Half the class scored grade C, and the other half scored ‘F.’ I was the class president at the time, not the class prefect. You know how these things work — at JSS, a straight edge is called ‘ruler,’ but at SSS, it becomes ‘rule.’
In reacting to the abysmal performance and the fact that the examiner, Prof Boubou, had been wicked to us, we decided to “punish” him so he reconsiders the grades. Those were the really radical days of some students. May those days never return. We marched into the Dean’s office chanting, and upon entry, we saw the Dean, but seated behind him was the “wicked” Prof. Boubou. Ei! We didn’t expect him to be there; apparently, he is a friend to the Dean.
The first condition of stabbing someone in the back is to ensure that the person doesn’t know you’re the one with the knife. Malice! Gossips are cowards. Numbering about 20 “faceless” students, I was the leader with the petition in my hand. We only hoped that Prof. Boubou wouldn’t know our names.
Dean then asked, “Amani3.” I didn’t know where to start. I was fortunate to be one of those who obtained at least a grade ‘C.’ So why did I endanger my life with this leadership choboi choboi? What if at the end of the day, Prof decides to reverse my grade to ‘F’ for being a “loud mouth”? What if indeed I had scored an ‘F’ but then he mistakenly gave me a ‘C’? Wasn’t it better to “cry my own cry?”
Class President for where? At this point, the fastest decision was to pretend I had received nature’s call. I went out immediately and straight to my cubicle to hide — no phones at the time for anyone to call me. I left them there. As to what happened to them, Tony Kofi Boakyi was the Asst Class Prez; he should take over! Me? To have been lucky with a ‘C,’ leading a team of “Failures” to go and do what? Tweeeaaa!
What if Prof withdraws my C and makes it F? They should be there; that’s my back case! Later, when Kofi Boakyi and his rampaging F students came back to the hall, they accused me of betraying them. I explained to them that I had a running stomach that’s why I left. As to how they managed to come out of the Dean’s office, that was their problem.
Boakyi and I were very “lazy” students. In class, we would sleep in turns. When I slept for 5 minutes, I would wake up and ask him to also sleep for 5 minutes. One day, this same Prof Boubou asked a question on what he had taught us the previous day. Nobody would volunteer. Frustrated, Prof “threatened” that if nobody raised his or her hand, he would mention names o. Boakyi’s immediate response loud enough was: “Nyame npengu” (to wit, God forbid). Ei! You registered for a course and “God forbid” that your name would be mentioned to answer a question? Ei!
Have a great weekend and don’t be too hard on yourself if life’s exams are not going well — everybody gets problems. Take yours easy!
