Other teachers at the school were Mr. Johnson and his side-kick, Fitzie who both taught Mathematics and Add. Maths. Mrs. Barrett never taught me history, but I remember her – short, beautiful dark skin and a husky voice. She had two sons Kevin who played badminton, and David who played volleyball, who attended Ardenne in our time.
   I also remember Mrs. Ruddock who we called Rubber-duck. She taught English Language and Literature. There was also Mr. “Stewie” Stewart who taught Physics. Madame Dundas taught French, and drove a Citroen car which had to raise up off the ground before it could move. Cool. Her sister-in-law was Señorita Bingham, who taught us Spanish in later years. Every female student at Ardenne had a crush on Mrs. Bingham’s husband, because he was fit-looking, and belonged in a GQ magazine. We couldn’t wait to see him every evening when he would come to collect Señorita Bingham. Señorita Bingham was a wonderful woman. She had a winning personality. She laughed a lot, but was very caring and concerned about the students. Ms. Grace Gordon and her sister “Mrs. Gordon-Bromfield” are others I remember. They were past students who another sister called Faith Gordon attending the school.
   In grade 9 I had yet another dilemma. I started to grow, and grow and grow, and then some. Vertically that is. My feet started to expand in order to match my increasing height. If anybody had told me then that I was going to grow until I reached the six feet height I am today, I would have fainted. To add insult to injury, my chest would not budge – it was as flat as a pancake. Wayne Kelly and his pack would interrogate me about how I looked. “How come you look like a broomstick?” Of course the broom at the bottom of the stick would most probably represent my ever growing feet. They were huge. But there was one good thing about that. I needed new shoes, and it was 1980, a year when nothing was available in Jamaica. Mr. Manley made sure of that. No sugar, no cornflakes, no rice, no…………………..leather to make new surgical boots. So I was taken to Bata, Van-del’s and Sammy’s until we found a pair of Earth Shoes for school. I was normal again, except for the chest. No breasts. The summer 1980 came to save me, and I knew that by September, big tings woulda gwaan fi mi.

   September and tenth grade came and absolutely nothing happened. Trudy Chin was my only saving grace. She was the only other student in the tenth grade in the same boat as me. The Smirnoff Vodka advert of the day took its toll on us both. The tag line of the ad was, “Smirnoff- it leaves you breathless”. Soon Trudy and I had the name Smirnoff and we could not understand why. We had been drinking too much Smirnoff, they said, and it left us “breast-less”. A teacher of Maths, Mr. “Johnno” Johnson enjoyed calling me Smirnoff.

   My best friend Jasmine was well endowed, and she had hips too, but she tried to encourage me, reminding me that I was still only 13 years old, and had time. But Jasmine kept me busy at school work. We’d go to our newly built school library to harass Mrs. Lawrence, a soft-spoken Christian lady who was so dignified that it was hard for her to tolerate students like me. I don’t think that I realised that I was a girl until just about 10th grade.

   On one of those hungry days somebody carried some blackie mangoes to school and Janet Knight and I were enjoying some in the fourth form passage way, during class-time. I was trying to use my tongue to lick the juice which was running down to my elbows. Mr. Roberts buss di corner same time, and we were busted. He escorted us around to the office and we were reprimanded in his usual calm, controlled manner. He then instructed us to stand on the front steps of the main office gripping the clammy, sticky mango seeds and skin in our hands, for all to see.