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School wasn’t big on my agenda when growing up. Compulsory, yes, but I never really took a fancy to it.
The only subjects I came close to enjoying was Latin, history and maths. Latin, because we were only eight in the class and I loved translating Cicero and Caesar. History, because it was fascinating.
My take was that history is the ultimate novel – based on real characters – spanning the most important centuries of mankind. And it was X-rated. War, murder, rape, pillage, deception, treason… wow. No novelist or scriptwriter could make that stuff up.
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And although it was presented as fact, for me, it was all loosely based, perhaps, on a true story. Maths because it was easy. Not the most committed of students, I did get my fair share of punishment for not doing all the homework all the time, but in my defence, I did excel in my extramural activities.
The most notable of these was spending summer mornings by the pool or trying to tune my motorcycle so that I could race at the head of the pack.
Recently, though, I have been tasked with doing some homework again and this time round it, turns out to be quite a lot of fun.
As grandfather of three – with another one on the way – I have ended up being the go-to man when the little ones need help figuring out word problems and other odd, random questions.
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I am slowly but surely becoming an expert on how many cup cakes one has to sell to make a profit of R100 and figuring out how old Jane is if she is three years older than the age of her brothers John and Frank combined (just as an example).
Sitting down with the little ones and figuring it out together, I am rewarded with the biggest smiles, most intense hugs and beaming pride which cannot be described in words.
I have discovered that the most magic of moments is when the penny drops and they grasp the idea. One can actually see light going on in the mind.
Of course, we don’t always get everything right and when we only get a C symbol for our homework, I have to take the brunt of the punishment.
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