But on that one occasion my other slow-to-reach-for-the-sky classmate fired his hand in the air with the rest of the class and yep, the teacher asked him for the answer.
He replied something along the lines of "because everyone else put their hands up I thought I better put mine up too".
The teacher responded with a shake of the head.
The class reacted with laughter.
There was one occasion however when we were asked a slightly strange question to do with phosphate or something, and with my dad working at the fert' works I knew the answer.
Me and just one other kid.
And oh the irony...for that one other pupil had the teacher's finger point toward him for the answer...and he provided it.
My arm descended slower than a falling parachute.
My one moment of educational triumph had eluded me.
I didn't hate the teacher for it...I just hated the finger he used to identify the person he wanted to answer the question posed.
I probably walked home placing curses upon that digit...hoping his weekend efforts at nailing together a fence resulted in him nailing that finger to a slab of four by two.
Or getting it stuck up his nose and having to go the doctor.
But hey, sometimes even the simple things in life can be challenging, and I have always been buoyed by the story of an esteemed and respected navy captain from the days of the great square rigger fighting ships who all his career, at times of possible peril or uncertainty on the high seas, would take a piece of card from his vest pocket and peer at it - then make a decision on which direction they should pursue.
He never explained what was on that inspirational card...until he died and it was found to contain four words.
"Port - left, starboard - right."
He always needed to be reminded of one of the nautical world's most simple equations...just to be extra sure.
And so it came to pass that I heard someone ask a simple question the other day.
Well maybe not so much a question, more a curious enquiry and it got me thinking...which I agree is not always a good thing.
"How come fridges are white?"
Mmmm.
Once upon a time all stoves were white too but not anymore, yet apart from a very occasional silvery-metal coloured job fridges are white.
There was a theory once that white reflects heat better and that's a good thing for a fridge, but apparently that doesn't stack up anymore because all the real insulation is inside the thing and the outside colour is therefore irrelevant.
Heat outside simply won't penetrate anyway.
Once a discussion was sparked someone else suggested it was because white is totally neutral in terms of suiting any kitchen design so therefore is extremely practical.
As is the fact that apparently they are cheaper to build than a coloured one.
But some coloured ones are out there...even black ones.
And I've seen a red one which was built and competitioned off by a certain beer maker down Mangatainoka way.
But on the whole, unlike pretty well every other appliance or furniture item which come in all shades and hues, fridges are white.
I enjoy such trivial diversions and there is every chance I shall dream of this situation tonight.
I will be in class and the teacher will ask "why are fridges white?"
My hand will be first into the air and I will reply that it made for a better optically-friendly "easel" upon which to attach hundreds of magnets, notes and photographs.
Oh well, I've never really minded being sent to the corner of the room.