Ragged Clown

Ms McDonnell was our physics teacher in the third year (age 14). She wasn’t too bad as a teacher, but she was out sick most of the time, and our substitute teachers knew nothing about physics.

— 1980 —

As usual, I did no classwork or homework in her class. None at all. But I was the only one to get a decent grade in the final exam. I got 70%, John got 57%. The class average was 34%.

Ms McDonnell accused me of cheating and reported me to Mr Gooden, my form teacher. Mr Gooden checked my books and asked me some physics questions to check that I knew what I was supposed to know. I had done precisely zero homework for the entire year, but I hadn’t cheated. I knew all the answers.

When Mr Gooden found that I hadn’t done any work, he made me do a whole year of physics in the last two weeks of school.

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After the end-of-year exams, we always had two or three weeks with no work to do. We just hung out in the sunshine and had fun, but this year I sat at the back of Mr Gooden’s chemistry class to catch up on the work I had skipped.

Mr Gooden was teaching an older class to prepare them for university. They barely knew anything, so when they didn’t know the answer, he asked me.

Gooden: “What’s the by-product of fermentation?

Silence. No one knows.

Gooden: Kevin?

Me: Carbon Dioxide, sir.

Gooden: Well done, Kevin.



Gooden: What is that carbon dioxide used for?

Silence.

Gooden: Kevin?

Me: To pressurise the kegs, sir.

Gooden: That’s good, Kevin.

This went on for several days. I knew all the answers, and they knew nothing.

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My Dad had bought me an American college textbook on organic chemistry for Christmas that year. I could’ve easily done A-level chemistry when I was 14, but that wasn’t an option — and for the next two years of school, I did practically zero work and never even took a book home.