The cane for a cheat

When I was nine years old, I was sent to a preparatory school in the north west of England. It was impressed upon me by my parents just how much money they were investing in my education, and the necessity to work hard and do well in my studies.

I was a bright boy and did fairly well in my first few months – except for mathematics, which was a real struggle for me. One day, the maths teacher Mr Finch* announced a test out of the blue, and began to give out question papers.

  • Editor’s note: All names – apart from the contributor’s first name – have been changed in this story at his request.

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