She might as well have gone to Multiflores Canyon and pitted her strength against climbing its walls for the day, for all the good she did in her school work.
She heard no word of any recitation by her schoolmates.

She had no word ready when called on for a recitation herself.

She heard nothing that was said by any of the professors.

On winged feet she was flying back and forth from the desert to the mountains, from the canyons to the sea.
She was raiding beds of amass and devising ways to roast the bulbs and make a new dish.

She was compounding drinks from mescal and bisnaga.