Do you know, I moved from dreaming of becoming a valedictorian to not caring whether I had a first-class degree or not. In fact, I decided to go in a different direction and choose something else over a first-class degree.

Obsessed with Grades

If you ask anyone who was my classmate in basic school and some in senior high school, one thing is certain about me: I cherished being at the top of the class and getting the best grades. Because I have an unattractive handwriting, going for remarking after examinations is another thing I am known for, since it significantly changed the outcome of my results over the years. Some remarking exercises were not even done because my handwriting was illegible; they were done because I believed my answers were correct (from a perspective different from the marking scheme) and deserved the highest grade possible. This was something many teachers did not take lightly. At least two of my primary-school teachers called me proud for always wanting to prove that I knew more – sometimes even more than them – and they took offence at me.

Moments I Cried Over Getting First in Class

Beyond that, there were moments when I beat myself up until I cried for not being the best or for scoring below my expectations. Unlike those whose parents or siblings pressured them to secure the best marks possible, mine was a purely personal drive. While my parents were proud of my academic achievements, they cared little about whether the scores were distinctions or mere passes. Throughout Primary 2 to JHS, I was ranked first in my class – except on two occasions. The first was when I was moved from Primary 4 to join Primary 5 in the middle of the second term because of my excellent performance. The headmaster believed I could do better in a higher class. At the end of that term, I was ranked third, having joined them mid-term. From the third term onwards, however, I resumed my position at the top of the new class.

The second occasion – which made me cry – was when transitioning from Primary 6 to JHS. Although I did my best in the examinations, a particular teacher did not like me and was determined to break my monopoly of the first position. He did this by providing answers to other students in the class – especially girls, some of whom we believed he had an interest in. This made them score almost perfect marks in all papers except for one girl in Mathematics, who scored 96 out of 100. The only answer she got wrong was the calculation of the median of a set of numbers. I had argued for a different interpretation after the exams, but the teacher rejected it and solved it incorrectly himself. The girl was absent that day, so the teacher gave her the answers the following day before she wrote the paper. Those answers were correct except for the one error. At the end of the examinations, my overall score was ranked third. Just when I had begun to console myself, considering the cheating that had taken place, the results announced the following day placed me fourth in the eleven-member class. This was the first time in many years, and the cheating aspect made me cry until the headmaster consoled me, stating that whether I was first or fourth, I had qualified for JHS, so crying would make no difference. The teacher was subsequently sacked, and I resumed my position at the top in JHS 1.

Skipping JHS 2 and the BECE Journey

At the end of JHS 1, the proprietor approached me to say he would like me to skip JHS 2 and join the final JHS class to prepare for the West African Examination Council (WAEC) Basic Education Certificate Examination (BECE). He believed I stood a good chance of scoring high grades, which would enhance the school’s reputation, as it was presenting its first-ever candidates for the examination. Although the school had existed for nearly fifteen years, it had never had a JHS until the batch that would sit in 2015. I gladly accepted and, shortly afterwards, a classmate from my JHS 1 group was also added making us a JHS 3 class of 6, three boys and three girls.

Our preparations were far from ideal; we had no dedicated teachers until 28 January 2015, when two teachers were brought in from the Bibiani in Western North Region (formerly part of Western Region) to prepare us for the examination. Their task was to cover the entire JHS syllabus in time for the BECE in June. They did their best, and so did we. When the examinations came, I wrote with confidence – until some papers were cancelled. I returned home, paid little attention to my books, and later returned to rewrite the cancelled papers.

When the results were released, I checked mine and frowned: I had scored an aggregate of 18 when I had expected a single-digit score. Even with my aggregate 18, I was well celebrated in the community, because it was the best grade scored in the Two circuits – Dakoto and Sheaga – that wrote the BECE at the Sheaga centre, the second best was 24 in the centre and in my class the two people who followed me were with aggregates 30 and 31 respectively. Nevertheless, I was able to gain admission to Notre Dame through the entrance examination, although I was placed by the Computerized School Selection and Placement System (CSSPS) at Zamse Senior High/Technical School (Zamstech). Because my BECE results were not impressive, I was placed in the General Arts class instead of General Science. In fact, if the school had admitted one fewer student through the entrance examination, I would have been the one left out; my name was the last on the list. Later, when I saw the posted raw WAEC scores of all admitted students, mine was the lowest.

The Sulking Year at Notre Dame and the Turnaround

Despite starting from the bottom, I sulked for the first two terms because I was unhappy about being forced to study General Arts instead of Science, even though there was very little I could do about it. As a result, my grades reflected my displeasure. I received a warning on my terminal report stating that I should either improve my grades or face demotion – or worse, dismissal. That warning brought me back to my senses. I developed a love for Economics, which added to my existing love for Mathematics. I began to improve, and by the end of WASSCE I was among the top five graduates, with six A1s, a B2 in English, and a B3 in Integrated Science.

UDS: Chasing First Class and Valedictorian

I carried this new energy into university with the aim of graduating with first class. When I heard about the concept of valedictorian, I coveted that honour and began working towards it. At the end of the first trimester, I was in first class with a GPA of 4.58/5.0. It was not the highest, but I was committed to improving. Then the second trimester happened. The results were released while we were away on the Third Trimester Practical Field Programme (TTFPP). While everyone checked their portals with mixed feelings, mine brought the biggest shock of my life. The two courses I had expected to score at least 85 in – Introduction to Finance II and Introduction to Programming II– were graded C+ and B respectively. For the former, although I had not taken the first part of the course, I had performed very well in the mid-trimester examination and in the group presentation (my group scored among the highest). Seeing a much lower grade was shocking. For the latter, I was already good at programming; by then I had built several applications in Python, including a GPA calculator with a graphical user interface for desktop and a mobile version of it (which is still on my phone today). I had even tested my codes after the examinations, and they all ran perfectly. My GPA dropped from 4.58 to 4.23. With little else I could do, I decided to call the lecturer of one of the courses to ask whether he could re-examine my script and verify the score. I obtained his number from the course representative, but the call did not end well.

After greeting him, I calmly laid out my complaint. His reply was curt: I had no right to call him and should seek formal remarking if I wished. I had heard so much about the difficulties of that route and lacked both the money and the courage to pursue it, so I resigned myself to fate. That, however, was only the beginning of the drama. The following Saturday, the lecturer called me back and blasted me for calling him at that particular time. Apparently he had been with his professor, who was supervising his PhD thesis, and the interruption had not gone well. After a long call in which he berated me and I could only reply with “sorry,” he ended the conversation. When school resumed in September, I was in the departmental office assisting the Mathematics Students’ Association of Ghana (MASAG) with course registration for first-year students and collecting dues. On one of those days, the same lecturer walked in. I did not expect him to connect my voice or name to our previous interaction, but from his reaction it was clear he had made further enquiries about me. He first demanded to know why I was in the office at all, since I was neither a teaching assistant nor an executive of MASAG. Before I could answer, he brought up the entire incident from two months earlier. He blasted me again, this time adding that I was prideful and thought I knew everything – among other things I prefer not to remember. His words made me wonder whether he knew more about me than simply having taught me the course and receiving my vacation call, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment.

The D+ That Finally Broke the Dream

I quietly left the office to avoid further drama and did not return until something urgent required my attention. Following that incident, I began researching what it really took to graduate with first class and used my developed GPA calculator to predict the scores I would need to regain at least a 4.5 GPA. I realised I would need almost perfect 5.0 GPAs in most remaining trimesters – something that was still possible. But just as those plans were taking root, the results of the first trimester of my second year came in. My CGPA dropped further: after improving to 4.34 in the third trimester, it now stood at 4.20. This was caused by my first-ever devil with a cross, D+ (the second came in final year).

The story behind that D+ made me completely abandon my dream of first class. The course was Vector Analysis. The lecturer was notorious for failing students who did not buy his books, and he was seldom punctual to class. Many suspected he hardly marked scripts at all. The University for Development Studies (UDS) had a strict policy against lecturers forcing students to buy their books; lecturers could provide soft copies (PDFs) for students to print at their own cost if they wished, since the lecturers already received book and research allowances. This lecturer refused to follow the rule. Because he was often late and spent nearly half the class time discussing football or unrelated topics, his lecture handout became essential for passing. Towards the end of the trimester, he announced through the course representative that he would release the PDF of the lecture notes only if we paid for it, claiming it had cost him time and money to produce. Although I opposed the idea, I lacked the courage to resist, especially since the majority of the class had agreed and hoped that buying the PDF would put us in his good books for better grades. I delayed, but eventually paid the 20 cedis each person was required to contribute; our index numbers were recorded. The lecturer also taught a third-year Mathematics Education class, but those students refused to buy the material. He threatened to give them “compact discs” – meaning he would randomly assign them grades between C, C+, D, or D+. That was his plan until the results were released. When I checked my portal, I saw the D+ staring back at me. I had bought the material, studied the notes, and written the examination well. Later discussions revealed that he had mistakenly applied the “CD” treatment to our class instead of the one he had intended. The Mathematics Education students, who had refused to pay, scored As and Bs. One of them, whom I know personally, testified during a prayer meeting that they had taken the matter to God in group prayer. Their prayer, I believe, caused him to bless them instead of cursing them, and we became the unintended victims of his wickedness.

The Realization That Changed My Path

It was then that I realised graduating with first class depended on far more than a student’s effort. Many external factors came into play: the lecturer’s or teaching assistant’s mood while marking (which could be affected by family issues or other personal matters), the person’s state of mind when entering scores into the system (there was a documented case where a lecturer entered 37 instead of 73 for a student, later corrected), system glitches, and even the student’s own disposition on examination day. Imagine preparing thoroughly for an exam only to spend thirty minutes searching for your ID card; by the time you arrive, you are either turned away or overly scrutinised, which ruins your mood and ultimately your performance. Family problems or relationship issues – matters having nothing to do with intelligence – can also show badly on your transcript.

Once I understood these realities, I decided to abandon the dream of a first-class degree and pursue something more important. Through my research, I discovered that while a first-class degree may be helpful for certain scholarships, it is not a big deal in the job market. Even for scholarships, a candidate with strong extracurricular activities and a second-class (upper or sometimes lower) degree can be preferred over a strictly booklong first-class graduate with no other experience.

Building Skills That Truly Matter

From that point, I decided to spend more hours developing skills that truly mattered in the job market: coding, graphic design, public speaking, advanced Microsoft Office Suite, and many other soft and technical skills. I spent more time in the university’s library IT room, not reading Mathematics, Economics, or Statistics materials, but focusing on IT- and Computer-Science-related skills – an area I loved. I built myself up to the point where many people, including actual Computer Science students, thought I was studying that discipline. The long COVID-19 break gave me ample opportunity to equip myself further. I also grew my YouTube channel, which became monetised within ten months, since I was among the few students still on campus with unlimited access to the university Wi-Fi from my hostel room.

On the side, while preparing for scholarships and other opportunities, I increased my volunteering work, especially at the church level – IMCS Pax Romana, ITI-CCR, and the University Catholic Chaplaincy. I became open to leadership positions where I could serve. In my final year I founded The Yapzor Foundation, through which I reached out to SHS students to talk about IT skills and their relevance in what we called “TechOutreach.” I also organised the maiden Students’ Entrepreneurship Summit for university students, which later evolved into the Monetize Your Hobby platform. In addition, I read extensively. Starting from the COVID break until I completed my degree, I bought and read over 100 hard-copy books on spirituality, self-development, finance, and many other topics. That figure excludes the countless e-books I read.

National Service and Unexpected Doors

Towards the end of my final year, while looking for national service opportunities, I saw an advert shared by a friend from the Noguchi Memorial Institute for Medical Research seeking an IT Assistant. Although I lacked a formal certificate in IT or Computer Science, I possessed exactly the skills they listed – graphic design, photography, video editing, social media management, and others – so I applied. Even though I later changed my mind and applied instead to GhanaTechLab’s Data Analytics Graduate Training Programme, I was posted to Noguchi. I was not allowed to work as an IT Assistant because I lacked the required certification, so I was placed in the Nutrition Department to provide research assistance using my Mathematics and Statistics skills in data analysis.

While working as a research assistant, it was not long before my graphic-design skills were discovered. After I helped the Quality Officer in my department create an animation for the Quality Management System (QMS) group to promote quality research at the institute, they requested more work in animation, flyer design, and other areas. I was asked to present an invoice for payment, which I did under my business name, SubAdd Tech Solutions. I worked on many other design projects, and even after I left, I was still contracted to handle the designs for the Annual Quality Week Celebration in 2024 and 2025.

The Scholarship, Master’s, and Where I Stand Today

Before completing my national service, I received the KAAD scholarship, which I had begun working on in my final year but had been advised to finalise only after graduation. The scholarship required a second-class upper degree or better, strong social and religious commitment, and proof of financial need – precisely the areas I had prepared for. I knew that immediately after service I would begin my master’s degree, so the need for a job was not a major worry. I completed my master’s within the stipulated two years – something that is not common. On the Monday after my viva voce for the master’s thesis, I interviewed for a three-month research-assistant role at the International Water Management Institute and was hired because they needed someone with experience in discrete choice experiments – exactly what I had used in my thesis. After the three months, the contract was extended to one year. I am still working there and looking forward to future possibilities and opportunities.

Three Years Later: What No One Ever Asked

It has been more than three years since I completed my first degree, and I have never once been asked in an interview whether I graduated with first class. Yes, there are days I wish I had earned a first-class degree – for the bragging rights and for certain opportunities such as being allowed to write all the professional examinations to become a chartered economist on a full scholarship reserved exclusively for those who finished their economics undergraduate degree with first class (others must pay the full amount). Ultimately, however, it does not count for much if the necessary skills are present and you rely on the grace of God.

Certificates Are Only Tickets

I have held this conviction since those incidents, inspired by the words of my primary head teacher when I cried at the end of the third-term vacation while transitioning into JHS: certificates are merely tickets to the next level. Once you cross that bridge, people really do not care about the distinction on the pass. After gaining admission to senior high school, you are hardly ever asked for your BECE certificate. After entering university, your WASSCE certificate becomes less relevant. Even though a bachelor’s degree will always be required for many opportunities – even if you hold a PhD – whether it is first class or not hardly plays a major role as long as you crossed the bridge.

It is good to be at the top of the class, but the real question is: are you more relevant beyond the grade on that piece of A4 paper?