When I was at high school, there was a serious divide between the kids who were good at maths, and the kids who were good at English.
The two weren't mutually exclusive. There was one guy in particular, Geoff, who was exceptional at both. Not only that, but he could also play the drums, drew excellent caricatures of his classmates, and he hardly had any pimples. He also had a girlfriend, which for most kids in our class was on a par with aspiring to owning a Lamborghini Countach. Pretty much all of us hated him. (Looking back, I can't fathom what we saw in the Countach, either).
Those of us who were stronger in English used to spend our free time hanging around odd corners of the school ground wearing black, talking about The Smiths, and feeling pleased with ourselves for getting an A-minus on some essay about Educating Rita.
The maths kids, meanwhile, saw lunchtimes as an opportunity to spend an entire hour in the computer study hall - doing what, I don't know - without fear of harassment from some philistine who couldn't find any use for an Apple IIe beyond playing 'Where in the world is Carmen Santiago'.