WHEN I was a little girl I used to think my primary school teacher, Mistress Agnes, was larger than life.

Her stern face had collapsed and her complexion was a gory shade of purple and pink. Clearly the skin-whitening creams had not been kind to her.

Her inability to smile made her all the more imposing.

She was tall and overpowering and as an eight-year-old girl I was convinced that if she reached out just a little bit she could lift the entire school building with one hand while writing on the chalk board with the other.

Every time Mistress Agnes looked at me I quivered and the walls of my bladder threatened to open up. Thankfully that never happened because she chose to turn away just in time.

On the first day of school she had stood in front of our class and told us in no uncertain terms that we were all going to pass with sterling results, whether we liked it or not.

She finished her lecture with a menacing threat: "Anyone who fails must bring the biggest sjambok because this classroom is not a playground and asizodlala la (we are not here to play). If education can save me, then it can save you too."

We all worked like demons and at the end of the year not one of us was asked to bring a sjambok. Mistress Agnes was pleased and, lo and behold, she smiled from deep within her heart and we finally saw her teeth.

We later learnt that she had not singled out our class for this lecture but had been doing this for over two decades before we came along. We were told, in all those years she always had a big, bright smile at the end of the year.

Mistress Agnes died several years ago and she had never crossed my mind until recently, when I saw a striking Sadtu member shout and swear at a police officer during last month's public service strike.

The officer was trying to restrain this woman and prevent her from throwing stones at the police. The clumsy, wobbly teacher was a far cry from the dignified and austere Mistress Agnes.

I thought about her again this week when I saw Cosas members wielding bins full of water, trying to disrupt an exam at Moletsane Secondary School in Soweto.

In Limpopo exams were written under police guard because earlier this week "striking learners" had barricaded gates, trashed furniture, smashed windows and generally created anarchy in classrooms.

This violent and unruly behaviour is all to prevent the matric prelims.

Cosas might be right in arguing that pupils are not ready because of the lost learning time during the public service strike but history has shown that this student body is first a political movement before being a pro-education, pro-learner organisation.

Cosas have not been taught to use their brains and mouths when protesting. They also have no insight to distinguish between the issues worth protesting over and those that are simply none of their business.

This was evidenced at Molemo "Jub Jub" Maarohanye's court appearance in relation to the deaths of four school children during an alleged street car race in Protea, Soweto.

Cosas was ready to lose precious learning time instead of prioritising education and allowing the courts to deal with this matter. They thought the violence and noise would influence what happens in a court of law.

Let's not forget the violent protest on the Cape Flats over the planned closure of certain institutions.

Again, the students prioritised politics over education. Cosas' claim that they are concerned for students who have been disadvantaged by the strike is disingenuous.

We live in a different reality where the demands of modern life mean that our country must work on being globally competitive. We need to create wealth for the country and ensure that not another generation of South African men and women will lack skills and education.

But for as long as the fervency and determination of Mistress Agnes and her students is lacking in our education system, we will continue to be bottom of the pile.