Globusz^® Publishing 

The office of the Dean of Studies was a beehive of activities. Inside the office and its corridors were clusters of students, all waiting for their turns to fill their registration forms. It was November, the usual period when Secondary Schools enroll their students for the West African Senior School Certificate examinations.

The atmosphere was agog with adolescent excitement. Each of the groups outside chatted vivaciously about various issues, mostly about their forthcoming examinations. The group under the shade of an orange tree besides the building was not an exception. Ifenna Udemba, seventeen, slightly tall and dark, was leaning on the stem of the old tree. He was flanked by about five other boys of around the same age, all smartly dressed in white shirts and white trousers.

One of the boys, a tall and fair teenager named Fidelis was telling them how final exams were conducted in his former school; and the students behaviours in the examination hall.

“... You need to come and see how sharp these guys are. Everyone co-operates with one another. If you are in a fix, all you need to do is: fold your question paper and launch it like a missile,” He demonstrated with his hands “to any of these intelligent guys and they will tick the answers for you and launch it back”.

‘What if no intelligent boy is within your throwing range?” asked Uche, a quiet sixteen-year-old boy who likes identifying with the popular boys. The present group was quite popular as far as Boys Secondary School, Onitsha was concerned

“You must have known beforehand and fortified yourself with bombs” replied Fidelis.

“How would you know? “ Uche queried.

“ Mumu! Don’t you know that they sit according to their serial numbers? You will sit in the same position throughout the examinations. Ifenna chided, ostensibly, puzzled at how naive some people could be. He, however, glanced at Fidelis for confirmation. ‘ Is it not so, Fideh?”

“Yes, they sit according to their serial numbers.”

“About the bombs “, started Damian, who was standing close to Ifenna, hand in his pockets, “don’t the invigilators frisk them before the examination starts?” Bomb was the students’ euphemism for all materials smuggled into the hall to aid them in malpractice.

“Sometimes, they do search but even at that there are still ways, many ways of getting the ‘ seeds’ in. There are many ways to kill a rat, you know.” Fidelis, popularly known as Fideh, concluded and laughed at his own humour. Others joined him in his laughter, happy and proud at how smart and ingenious, students, including themselves, were. Ifenna and the others drew nearer to Fidelis, hopefully expecting to hear new inventions in the art of outsmarting invigilators in the examination halls.

Few bystanders also joined in.

“Do they write on their desks before the exam starts?”

“No, that method is too timid”

“What about the ‘sandal method’? Dele had been silent till now. He was of average height and clever. The ‘sandal method’ was the terminology for hiding illegal papers inside sandals.

“Yes, they do that one although it has been modified. What they do is to cut open the cover on top of the sole....”

“S. S. 3 C! S. S. 3 C!” a voice called, interrupting the orange tree lecture group. Ifenna, Dele, Fidelis, Uche and Damian all in the same class, SS 3 C. It was now their turn to file into the deans office for registration. They all scampered off to join their classmate on a queue, which was already becoming too long. There was a minor stampede at the entrance of the office as some boys struggled to be in front. However, all noise subsided when Mr. Okala, the dean, bellowed for silence from within his office. No one wanted to be the proverbial scapegoat. The dean of studies loved discipline.

By the following week, all the finalists had registered for the examination. A photographer was invited and the passport photographs of all the students taken. The passports, according to the school authorities, would be attached to their registration forms and other necessary documents.

One morning, the school Principal, Mr. Ezeh, a middle-aged man, summoned the finalist to the school hall immediately after the morning assembly. Morning lessons were suspended as the boys left their classes and made for the large hall. It was situated adjacent to the back fence of the school. The hall served as centre for all the external exams, as well as the contingencies. Ifenna, hands in his pockets, tagged along. He caught up with Fidelis as he got to the hall’s entrance.

“Fideh.” Ifenna greeted.

“Ah, my guy, how’s life with you?”

“Cool.”

They stood near the back of the hall. Other boys mingled here and there, chattering light-heartedly.

“What do you think’ Prince is calling us for?” Ifenna was asking.

“I don’t know”, answered Fidelis spreading his hands

“It could be something about WAEC or about how we should take it easy with the juniors, as usual.”. ‘WAEC’, an acronym for West African Examination Council, the body that would be organizing their final examination, was popularly used by the students when referring to the examination in question.

“If it’s about those juniors, he’d better not bother himself as they must do as we command them. This is our turn to be in-charge,” said Damian who just joined his friends. He was one of the hostel prefects and was reputed for his passion for flogging the junior students in his hostel.

Ifenna nodded in agreement, “Yes, you’re right. Although I feel the old man will be talking about the WAEC. By the way, boys, how are we going to tackle this exam? I don’t want anything to keep me from gaining admission into the university next year”

“Who wants to stay at home? Look Ifenna, as for this exam. I‘ve already cleared it. You know what I can do.” Fidelis said, laughing his usual way. His companions concurred to his statement. They knew what he could do. They too, could do it. They had ways, albeit illegal, to scale through examinations which worked for them most times and that, kept them together.

“We need to...” began Ifenna.

“Good morning students,” Mr. Ezeh’s voice boomed throughout the hall, calling every student to attention. He was standing on the wooden platform in front of the hall. Standing next to him was the stout disciplinarian and dean of Studies, Mr. Okala, glancing strictly at the students. The murmurs and shuffle of feet soon ceased as curiosity got a better hold on the students. The Principal cleared his throat and started talking.

“I discovered from the records that you have all registered for your final exams. I hope I’m right? “

“Yes sir! “chorused the entire students.

“Good. We feel it is time, having observed most of you for five years now, to offer you some advice both pertaining to your exams next year and your attitude to life in general. I will make this session as brief as possible so that you can get back to your classes and studies.

“Your final exams, which you call ‘WAEC’ is not like the one you‘ve been taking in this school for the past five years. It is an external examination and it will, to a large extent, determine the direction you will be heading the rest of your lives. During our time, this same exam could fetch you a posh job in the civil service, but that is by the way. The question you will meet in this examination would span through all you have done throughout your senior secondary level, as some of you must have discovered from going through the past questions. The questions will be very standard so you must have to prepare very well to scale through.

“ I will therefore advice any of you who have not started devouring your notes and textbooks to start doing so now. Donate all your free time to reading instead of wasting them on frivolous activities. Always read far into the night. Sleep and fun are the most important price you will pay for success to come your way. I hope you are all following?”

Some of the boys chorused ‘Yes sir!’ as usual while some were so absorbed with what the principal was saying to answer. Mr. Ezeh had not sounded this concerned in his previous speeches to them, his students and the serious ones were rapturously enthralled by his words.

“In our internal exams here,” continued the school head after a brief glance at his watch, “some of you resorted malpractice having whiled away time. It might not be that easy for you in this particular exam. WAEC has very very strict penalties for exam malpractice. Your guess is as good as mine what happens to someone caught cheating in an external examination.

“Apart from all these, your presence here in the secondary school is not without a purpose. All you learn here forms the root with which you will grow in life – either in further studies or in business. It would not make any sense for you to cheat and get distinctions in this exam when you don’t know anything. When you get to the higher institution, your lecturers would be sounding like folk tales to you.” He paused, looking intently at the students.

“This is not time to disturb your juniors. This is not time to perambulate around. This is not time to display your fine clothes your juniors. This is not time to think about girls. Even this Christmas celebrations that is coming up is not for you.” Murmurs and giggles filled the hall. Most of the boys covered their mouths with their hands while some bowed the heads as the expressed their disagreement at this bit of advice.

“Be quiet!” thundered Mr. Okala, glaring threateningly at the students. Mr. Ezeh waved his hands at them. “Yes, this Christmas is not for you if you know what you are coming up against,” he repeated. When the noise had subsided a little, he asked,” Who can tell me what happened at Nkisi Street two weeks ago? Eh.., Labour Prefect can you help us?”

“A two-storey building collapsed” answered Nnanna Ekpe the labour prefect who was known and liked by most teachers and students for his intelligence.

“Now, can anybody tell us what the government engineers said concerning the calamity?”

“They said that the foundation was not strong enough” It was Ifenna who answered. “Thank you. The foundation of the building was not strong enough. In other words, the foundation was weak. When you build your house on a weak foundation, it collapses, no matter how huge the house is. In the same way if you waste your time now, in the future, it will backfire, as you have not fortified yourself with enough knowledge through reading. I think you have heard enough for one morning. Mr. Okala, do you have anything for them?”

“Yes.” replied the dean. He opened the big registration sheet in his hands and called out some names.

“Let these boys see me in my office. The rest of you, go back to your classes.” Mr. Okala had a brusque way with the students, which he believed was the best panacea for boys’ proclivity to delinquency.

He then nodded to the principal and they left the hall, followed by a mass of chattering, laughing and boisterous youths.

It was two weeks to vacation for Christmas holidays. Some of the finalists went about, acquiring textbooks with which to keep themselves busy. Their principal’s speech had boosted their morale toward their academics and did not want to leave any ground uncovered. They did not want to consider the fact that the WASC examination was still some months away. The likes of Nnanna had already started burning the midnight candle. Uche, who hither to have mingled with the unserious students reconsidered his stance. He decided that if he tried reading and it worked, he would stick to it.

For Ifenna, the principal’s advice was not the first and was not going to be the last. He had always succeeded in examinations without much stress and therefore, he could not see why he had to bother himself unnecessarily for this particular one. External or internal, exam is exam, he concluded.

Ifenna and his friend Fidelis had already concluded plans on how they would go about their final examination. Fidelis had told Ifenna that he had friends in his former school who would have access to the question papers before the examination itself. All they had to do was raise enough money to afford the charges. Ifenna was making arrangements on how to obtain enough money from his parents when the next year steps in.

At home, Ifenna lived a very comfortable life. His father was a wealthy trader at the popular Onitsha main market while his mother was a teacher. Ifenna had only one sibling – his sister, Nnenna. Having been used to getting things smoothly and easily, he was shaken when, in the secondary school, he discovered that he had to labour and sweat over his books for him to be promoted to any class. Being always satisfied with money from his parents, he did not have to look far to get friends who aided him in various ways to scale through examinations. The intelligent ones allowed him to sit beside them with long stools during exam while the dull ones willingly threw to his desk, used ‘bombs’, which included piece of papers with tiny notes written on them, class notebooks and others.

Thus, Ifenna degenerated into a very lazy student. From his first year in senior secondary, Ifenna could count out with his fingers, the number of times he had copied notes during classes. His behaviours were not particularly abnormal to attract the attention of his parents or teachers but he knew within himself that where academics was concerned, he was a long way off.

Now in SS 3 and with the future looming close, Ifenna knew he should start getting serious. Similar speeches to the principal’s had been poured on him by his mother times without number. But Ifenna was like a child who tasted sugar and could not see why he should to stop licking it when he had to pass the sugar seller every morning with coins jingling in his pockets. Even though Ifenna decided to start reading, what was he going to read? Where was he going to start? His class notes were almost bare and the textbooks were too voluminous for him. Besides, was he going to suspend his frequent visits to girlfriends? ‘No way.’ How about his evening outings with friends to various joints in the town? For Ifenna, these things count and should never be sidetracked in the stream of things. Why should they be neglected when ‘something’ could be done about the examinations?

Ifenna had also registered for the University Matriculation Examination (UME), also to be taken next year. He wanted to make it into the university without delay once out of the secondary school. He considered himself lucky to have ‘sharp’ friends like Fidelis and Damian who appeared to be quite knowledgeable where exam malpractice was concerned. So far, so good. ‘Who said that there is something to worry about?’ Ifenna would ask himself sometimes.