Are you smarter than a fourth-grader?

Have you ever had to complete a quiz which they say is meant for a fourth-grader, yet you struggle to get the answers right? Well, you are not alone - I too have failed nine out of ten of those tests.
If you, like me, are frequently subjected to solving the mathematical formulae of your fourth-grader that leaves you wondering how you on earth you managed to pass grade 12 in 1997, then you know what I am talking about.
If it is not figuring out the relationship between 'osmosis and the degeneration of cells', then one is expected to help your kid to explain why 2b+3c is not equal to 3c+2b!
The teachers would call it homework, but I think they are secretly passing the buck to us parents. Mind you, my years of mathematics involved the collection of ice-cream sticks and beer tops to use as teaching aids in class. Never was I expected to explain why the factorisation of 24 is infinite… or something like that!
As for life science, all I can recall is that I am a product of my parents because they went to 'buy' me at the Katutura Central Hospital. Seriously, I only found out about human reproduction some two weeks ago when my nine-year-old daughter shockingly explained the process to me in stark details.
I knew trouble was in the offing when I sat her down as I figured it was time I informed her of the birds and the bees.
"Cutie, it is time we talk about something you need to know but not need to do. What I am saying is that I will tell you all about it, but you must never know about it entirely for another 15 years…I mean…"
She stopped me in my tracks by saying; "Daddy, do you mean about sex? If that is the case, what do you wanna know…?"
Eish, and they still think a heart attack is a natural ailment!
Going home after work these days is not so pleasant at all because I have to face my daughter's homework. I bet the teacher marking the homework probably looks once at my daughter's work and thinks to herself: "So this so-called journalist from Omaheke is not that smart at all. Just look at how he explains the process of photosynthesis."
I guess now I know why she talks slowly to me when I visit the school with my daughter to check on her books. I always thought she was doing that for my daughter's sake.
I couldn't care less; how would I know about the process of photosynthesis if I can hardly pronounce the word itself? In fact, the first time I heard of it I went straight to the periodic table and searched all day looking for the metal called 'photosynthesis'.
Then there is Afrikaans, my moedertaal! I have always admired the literature of this magnificent language. When I think of Breyten Breytenbach, Antjie Krog and C.J. Langenhoven, I cannot help but admire the quality of prose they produced.
Who would forget reading 'Kringe in die Bos' or 'Fiela se Kind', which had the famous line "Ek is Fiela Komoeti se kind…ek is Fiela se kind." (I am Fiela Komoeti's child, I am Fiela's child.) Then there was C. Louis Leipoldt's "Oktobermaand, die mooiste, mooiste maand" which we had to recite every day!
But today's kids are taught a different Afrikaans. They are made to read long passages, probably taken from 'Rooi Rose' or 'Keur' magazines, and are then required to explain what the writer had in mind! How the hell should I know - dig him up from the grave, ask him and let me know what he says!
If our kids know where babies come from, are better at configuring our smartphones and know all the latest gossip about Justin Bieber - then they are definitely smarter than us. Forget about what we know about the Gulf War or the Treaty of Versailles - that, my dear friends, is apparently as old as the sun!
Perhaps it would pay to spend a bit more time around these kids; you would not want to wake up one day and discover that the Afro is out of fashion…or is it already?
Until then…