Adwoa Okorewaa : Wellspring of A Matriach

Have you ever pulled off a scheme so perfectly brilliant that the punishment turned into the funniest family story?

My grandmother, Adjoa Okorewaa, was the kind of woman whose love for learning had no expiry date. Even at ninety-two, she would read, write, and study with a level of focus that could humble anyone. She believed that learning was a lifelong process and that every day was an opportunity to sharpen the mind, no matter how old you were. But even the wisest lifelong learner can be outsmarted… especially before 5:00 AM.

Read on to find out how two determined children in Accra pulled off the ultimate bedtime switcheroo—and what that hilarious morning really taught us about learning, laughter, and family love

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As a teacher, she had a firm philosophy: “The best time to learn is early in the morning, when your brain is fresh and most receptive.” And she lived by it. Whenever we, her grandchildren, were in her care, our mornings began long before the sun came up. At around 4:30 or 5:00 a.m., she would come into the room with her small torchlight, wake us gently but firmly, and say, “It’s time to learn.”

She would already have prepared her notes and lessons for the morning — grammar, reading, mathematics, science, and general knowledge quizzes. Lesson lasted about an hour and half. And though we grew up to appreciate that routine, as children, we dreaded it. We wanted to sleep in, to dream a little longer, not to wake up to dictation and arithmetic.

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I remember one long vacation vividly. My cousins had come from Takoradi to stay with us in Abelenkpe, Accra. Grandma, also on school break, decided we should not waste the vacation doing nothing. So she turned our home into a mini boarding school: early morning lessons and afternoons  spent on life skills and crafts such as basket weaving, needlework, and gardening. She believed idleness was the enemy of a young mind.

At that time, my sister was eleven, I was  10, and my younger brother and nephew were around five. They were too young to join our lessons at 5 am, so my parents had agreed that Grandma could wake them at six or seven  am — but we older ones had to rise at five. To us, it felt unfair.

We had tried complaining, but Grandma was resolute. The dawn before this story happened, she had caught us hiding in another room when she came to wake us, and she had spanked us lightly with her cane. It was the African way — “spare the rod and spoil the child,” as she’d always say.

So that night, my sister and I decided we’d had enough. We whispered under the covers, plotting our “brilliant” escape. In our large room, there were two beds: on the left, my sister and I slept; on the right, the two younger ones. Grandma always came straight to our bed with her torch light when she entered the room because she didn’t want to disturb the little ones by turning on the light. So our plan was simple …. we would swap beds!

When everyone was asleep, we tiptoed across the room, gently lifted the younger ones onto our bed, covered them nicely with our cloths, and then crawled into their bed, trying not to giggle. It felt like the perfect plan. We fell asleep feeling victorious.

At exactly 5:00 a.m., the familiar sound of Grandma’s slippers shuffled down the corridor. She came into the room, nudged the “older” bed, and said softly, “Wake up, time to learn.” Silence. She waited. We held our breath. Then, thinking we were pretending to sleep, she gave one sharp tap with her cane on the wrong bed.

The next thing we heard, was piercing screams. My little brother and nephew were crying uncontrollably, startled out of their sleep. Grandma froze, the cane in her hand. Within seconds, the whole house was awake. My parents rushed in, the house helps came running, and my sister and I sat up, wide-eyed and speechless.

The scene was chaos: the little ones wailing, Grandma scolding us whilst stifling a laugh, my parents half-angry and half-bewildered. My mother scolded Grandma for not checking before caning, and then turned to us, saying, “You two are too cunning for your own good!”

The housekeepers couldn’t contain their laughter. Even Grandma, shaking her head, finally burst into tears of laughter. Between her laughter and tears, she said, “You’ve really outdone me this time. You used your brains well, just in the wrong way!”

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That morning, there were no lessons. Grandma was laughing too hard to teach. She said, “You know what, I’ve had it with you this morning. I can’t teach children who think like strategists. You’re all too clever for me!” We thought we were in deep trouble, but instead, it turned into one of the funniest, most memorable mornings of our childhood.

Later that day, as a light punishment, she cancelled our crocheting and needlework activities, saying we needed to “reflect on our mischief.” But even then, her warmth wrapped around us. She could always find love and laughter in any situation, no matter how frustrating.

Years later, every time someone brought up that story, Grandma would laugh until tears filled her eyes. “I remember when you made me cane the wrong children,” she’d say, “Oh, you people were so cunning!” That laughter became part of her legacy. The way she turned mistakes into memories and mischief into moments of teaching.

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Looking back, I now see that morning differently. It wasn’t just about outsmarting Grandma. It was about creativity, problem-solving, and the way she encouraged us , even unintentionally, to think for ourselves. Beneath her discipline was a deep love for learning and a belief that the mind should never be idle.

Grandma’s philosophy was simple but profound:

• Start your day with purpose.
• Always make time to learn.
• Apply your mind to the problem; every chaotic moment holds a nugget of insight.
• And above all, treat every mistake as an opportunity to grow.

She taught through action, through laughter, and through love. And though she’s no longer with us, her voice still echoes every morning when I rise early to read, write, or learn something new.

I often smile and think, “Grandma was right.The morning really is when the mind is sharpest.”

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💬 What about you?

What’s the one piece of wisdom from a grandparent that changed your life? Tell us in the comments! — I’d love to read your memories, too.