During the '77 - '78 academic year, which was second grade, a very memorable moment arose. It involved getting some solid swats in front of the classroom. It was such a dust-raising spectacle that the instructor, Ms. Blacksmith, who had falsified a grade report giving a "D" when a "B" or "A" had been earnt, even she looked hurt. She hated this young lion; but, not that much. Seeing that, signs of compassion arose on her "pitiful" face. As, a father said with the resounding echoes of solid "whallops" this backside, "You are not bringing home any 'D's! I had better not see another 'D' on your report card again!" Truth be told, as a young Mensan, who had not "officially" joined, the probability of a earnt "D" was slimmer that him winning a Powerball Lottery. And, all of those children, who were so fond of calling the young lion names, suddenly looked rather concerned for his well-being...