9:15am. That was the time on my old rusty watch I kept looking at, as I stood outside the classroom. The watch was about the only special thing I had, and could be proud of. My classmates teased me whenever they had the opportunity to, because of the way I held onto the watch and never missed wearing it, even when it was now a shadow of its original self. This was the only memory of the only person I know truly loved me, my mother. Love died the day she passed. That's what I know.
Source
“You're still here, abi, coconut head,” she barked in her usual manner.
I stood there with my eyes fixed on her like I usually did each time she began her session of uncontrolled nagging. Adding to the list of things which pained her about my existence, it was my persistent silence whenever she hurled insults on me and reminded me of how much bad luck I wore on sleeves.
My memory constantly failed me when it had to do with school work. No matter how much I tried to read during the stolen minutes at home when I wasn't tending to chores, I could barely remember it afterwards. The only thing I could partly retain were figures, but my busy life wouldn't give me the opportunity to learn better.
This morning, I failed to correctly recite the lines of a poem the class has been asked to practice at home. How could I even rehearse the lines when I was too engaged at home, tending to my step mother's needs.
Agnes, my step mother, and I lived together. My father was a pastor who hardly stayed at home. We were recently transferred to a village that was about eight hours away from ours, so he only came home on weekends. His presence wasn't any different from his absence. He took sides with the woman who left me a wreck, and constantly believed I was no good, like she would tell him.
I had resigned to fate. They were right, after all. I was really no good, the reason I repeated my current class twice. To finally crown my life with failures, my stepmother was my teacher, and she seized every moment to ensure my life couldn't get any better.
“Good morning students,” the deep masculine voice of our principal echoed. That morning, an emergency bell rang, and we quickly rushed to the assembly hall wondering what was to be announced this time. Emergency bells always left our hearts beating because most times, it always signalled doom for erring students.
“There will be a mathematics competition coming up soon. We'll have students from various classes represent us.” That was the much I could hear. It wasn't my business as far as I knew. The brains of the school would definitely be the ones to represent us.
There was pandemonium everywhere in the school this day. My teachers were looking very agitated. None of our teachers came to teach that day, and this threw the school into an array of confusion. While we seized the moment to jump around the class, our teacher walked in.
“Who can represent the class?” Our teacher asked. There was pin drop silence everywhere. No one even dared to cough.
“I will” That was my voice as I stammered. The whole class burst into uncontrolled laughter that our teacher had to bang the table several times to get the class in order. My teacher sized me from head to toe with a look of disdain.
“ Is this a joke to you?” She barked, looking at me sternly.
Whatever pushed me to stand up wanted to have me up as a subject of ridicule.
Since I had offered myself, she had dragged me on to be disgraced, just like I wanted. The student to represent our school was seriously ill, and she couldn't show up. Someone from another class would have been chosen, but the organisers insisted on having students from my class.
Source
I got on the school bus to Memorial High School, the venue for the competition. My hands and feet were cold. “What if I disgrace myself, " I thought,” What am I doing?” I didn't realise how far my mind had travelled when I felt a heavy tap on my shoulder.
“Get down, na.” My teacher shouted.
My legs could barely move, but I felt myself just taking steps like a sheep about to be slaughtered.
It was mathematics. I thought I knew the figures well. We were arranged according to our schools, while the quiz master gave the rules. I tried to stop my heart from beating so fast, but I couldn't, so I resolved to do it, though afraid.
“Last question for Nsit High School,” That was the quiz master’s voice. I had tried. I didn't even know what to expect. I was still basking in my thoughts when I heard loud shouts and saw my step mother hurrying towards my direction, smiling at me in a way she had never done. If she could carry me, she would have, but one of the organizers had asked her to wait.
“Congratulations to Nsit High School.” The Chairman's voice went up. My school won. The sums I had always stealthily studied made me feel I was good, for the first time in my life. I was up to some good, after all.
The next-day in school l, I was called out during devotion amidst loud cheers and applause. As I walked up I looked at my old wrist watch so intensely that I almost missed a step. I knew my mother would be proud to see me from where she was. I had finally lived my name, Great!
Great story. You rose from the ridicule. And you made it. Your mother must be proud!!!
Definitely, she'll be
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