The John Crow posse, a group of guys in the 11th grade was the hottest (or only) posse in the school. They were Donovan Forbes, Wayne Morris, Devon Chevannes, Courtney French, Deszi, Peter Mair and Richard Gordon. They were popular and everybody wanted to know them. Our principal Mr. Ebanks did not seem to like whatever activities they were up to, and kept a keen eye on them. He was given the name, “Phantom” since he would just seem to appear out of nowhere, when you least expected him to. Caning was Mr. Ebanks’ preferred form of punishment.
Our girls group took shape when Carolyn decided to give us a name which was a combination of segments of all our names. Jahlicarhea was formed. We became a hot posse. I was the only nerd in the group. We were the new addition to the list of Mr. Ebanks’ concerns. To be truthful, we weren’t bad girls – we just wanted to do the things we wanted to do, which did not necessarily fit into the rules at Ardenne. We delighted in escaping from school to buy ‘adult’ lunch at various places including a Chinese Restaurant in Northside Plaza, Liguanea.
In the final months of the 11th grade I became attracted to a fellow called Christopher Cheddar, whose friend Clive (Abdul) Maxwell was working hard to coach him on how to approach me. Christopher was my friend Nadine’s brother, who was repeating 11th grade at Ardenne. He had come to us from Meadowbrook. He was a star performer in Sunlight Cricket for Ardenne that year, and that made me even more interested. Oh those young, beautiful, innocent days. Truth be told, we never really became an item. I believe we were complicated characters who never even understood what was happening.
It came as no surprise mock exam results were devastating. When my mother saw my report she said, “I know that when Handel Cotterell did his mock exams some years ago, his results were just as bad as these. But he was able to turn himself around in time for his GCE exams. He got good results, but looking at these grades I wonder if you can do it”. I tried to be like Handel in those 2 months leading up to CXC, but was it good enough? (By the way, Handel and I are wanna-be cousins – our fathers were each other’s best man at their weddings).
Those exams were rough. I started off with English Language and after I wrote the first 2 paragraphs of my essay, they said that time was up. I went home and bawled. If this was only English and it turned out like that, what about those which would require analysis and thought? In my Chemistry exam I froze. I saw nothing I recognised. The same for the Add. Maths exam. I used the time allotted, and the lined paper, to write a long letter to my friend in Canada, which I eventually posted.
Graduation fever came. On the Thursday and Friday before graduation we rehearsed the school song and our chosen graduation song, as well as the format in which we would march. Our graduation song was one I had never heard before, and one I have not heard since. I don’t know where the teacher got it from, because in 2008 I cannot find it in any book.
“God make my soul a foam tipped prow of some great 10-winged ship,
Whose breast is bared to every storm, awaiting life’s long trip,
Oh let me feel the burning sun, the sting of winter sleet,
So that my heart may bear the strain, of service to life’s fleet.
God let me know the sun and shade, the toil, the sweat, the grime,
The all of life, the laugh and cry, from depths to heights sublime,
Now let my love embrace the world, for all humanity,
That I may build an earthly home, of service God to Thee”.
Guest speaker at our graduation was Mr. Ronnie Thwaites who spoke with scorn about the wicked world which we the graduating class were about to enter – a world of gross poverty, starvation and destitution in which millions of US dollars were being wasted on wars, and on building high-tech guns, weaponry and techniques in preparation for wars. It has now been 25 years since that riveting speech, but it seems like the more things change, it’s the more they remain the same.
I believe that Mrs. Deta Cheddar, mother of Chris and Nadine, took part in the ceremony by introducing Mr. Thwaites, and another memory was that it was announced that Marvin Reid (Wonder Dog) was awarded the Grace Kennedy Award, an academic scholarship which carried him straight into Medicine. Kudos to Dr. Marvin Reid.
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Clive (Abdul) Maxwell had arranged for our class of 1983 to have our graduation ball at his Uncle’s place, a small hotel on Old Stony Hill Road (Mountain Slope Hotel?). All the shenanigans, links and interchanges which occurred that night will remain there, or as Mutabaruka would say, “It will continue ………………..in our minds”. Enough said.
That was the first party of the summer for us. Man, we had a ball that summer. It culminated with the mother of all parties at the same Lombard Close, hosted by none other than Jahlicarhea, our hot posse. Hundreds of people came but Jamaica Public Service made sure that our sound system would not play. We were in darkness for the entire night. We corrected that one year later when we had a proper bashment at the same location.
The results for exams came out in late August and I hugged up 2 U’s (ungraded) for Chemistry and Add Maths (surprise, surprise), got a 1 for English (the same exam I knew I had flunked), a 2 for Mathematics, a 3 for Spanish and a C in GCE for Biology. Some of Jahlicarhea’s grades were better than mine, some were worse. Every single one of us repeated 11th grade.
I can’t speak for the other posse members but I know that I was shame bad, bad. I was also very sorry for the time I had wasted the first time around. But we had strength in numbers and made repeating 11th grade seem appealing. We enjoyed every minute of it because a dat time deh wi did bruck out. Jacqui Myrie was now driving a brown Toyota Corona, and Carolyn had access to a Chrysler which she shared with her sisters Faith and Sharon.
We left school many, many days to go to Kentucky, Burger-Man or the Chinese restaurant for lunch. Phantom clamped down on the practice - three handclaps and the signal with his hand to come hither, was the way he would call us when we were stealing away through the front gate or under the fence at Cross Country. But Jacqueline simply got a written excuse from her parents that she has to have a properly cooked meal everyday, which apparently was not available at Ardenne so she just had to go get some on the road! And it worked! We made good on the second chance we were given at Ardenne, and got good enough grades to go on to bigger things. Thank you Ardenne for that second shot at success. Everybody deserves a second chance.
The tuition we got during our formative years at Ardenne was first class, world standard. Many of us have not entered another classroom since, except to collect our children after school. Many of us, including me, have not left the classroom since. We have become professional students. There’s a pill for that too, like Prozac.
Some of us married each other. As for me, who would have thought that 15 years after graduation I would have run into a guy whom I met at Ardenne in 1982? He was imported from Kingston College and did sixth form from 1982 – 1984. Who would’ve thought that I would eventually marry him for 7 months in 2000? Some of us like Wayne Morris and Janet Glaze-Neale, have attended another significant graduation ceremony at Ardenne – that of their children!
Rev. Glen Archer told me at age 14 that these were perhaps the best years of my life, when I did not have to worry about rent, mortgage, food or supporting myself. Some of us were poor and didn’t even know it. Some of us had home problems, broken homes. Some of us lived in inner-city areas where the violence and gunshots of the 1980 election encompassed our homes and messed up our minds forever. Some of us just weren’t academically bright - some were dyslexic but that condition didn’t even have a name in those days, so were felt we were just dunce. Some of us had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) but that never have nuh name neither so we were just classified as rude and bad behaving, and wrongly written off or constantly punished.
The dictionary defines nostalgia as, “a yearning for past circumstances and events”. I feel nostalgic about Ardenne and I know that those were wonderful years, which I would never want to change if given a choice. But I’m not sure if I agree with Rev. Archer about those years probably being the best years of my life. Life gets better.
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