The drive to school was beyond quiet this morning. It was an unceremonious first day of resumption. The usual anticipation to see Nora and Bless, my favourite girls, were lost with the silence in the car. Very frankly, the anticipation was never going to be there anymore, because it didn't look like I was going to resume at Infant Jesus this term.
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With my father, few words were said. Ours was a very formal relationship, more like a provider and his recipient. I was certain our every discussion always centered on what I needed, and that which he would provide. Intimate father daughter conversations were not part of the agenda in our relationship. This made me dread to ask why it seemed we took another route, rather than the busy Brooks road which let to my school.
“Come down,” My father ordered as we got In Front of the gate. I didn't understand what was going on, but all I could do was obey the order. I struggled with the door for some seconds before it eventually opened. I looked round the place, not knowing if to feel good or not.
The spirit of indifference had gradually become an indwelling feeling as I grew up. My opinion really meant nothing, so I couldn't be sad if things didn't go my way, nor could I be happy, because he hardly did anything that would make me show signs of happiness. These realities moulded into a cold, silent and even proud girl who believes she was the only creation in her world.
“That’s your class. I'll pick you up after school”. My day pointed and moved away afterwards. Like always, I didn't know what to feel. I was in a new school this term, and he didn't bother to tell me he was going to change my school. I went in like a goat about to be slaughtered,lost in thoughts that I forgot to greet my teacher.
“Hey you! Come back here” Mrs. Sarah screamed.
This was my first strike. I went back, responding to her scream.
“I'm sorry, ma. Good morning”
“What's your name?”
“Mary Okon” I responded with my eyes searching her entire face as if there's something I hoped to see.
I knew I didn't make a good first impression with Mrs Sarah, and this influenced my relationship with her while in this class. The entire day was longer than an entire term. My mind would travel back to Saint College where I previously schooled, and only returned when I heard my name echo from my teacher's call. For every lesson, she didn't fail to call me to answer the question, and for every question I failed to answer, I got the appropriate discipline.
I may not have been a lot of things, but one thing I definitely was not, was rude or proud, of course, everyone but Mrs. Sarah thought this way. After our first encounter, it seems she had planned to let loose whenever she saw me. Everything was always an issue. From not answering questions, which I did, but it never truly got her satisfied,to the way I dressed, down to the pettiest thing like the food I came with.
School gradually became a scare for me. I woke up in the mornings with a heavy heart, and severally, my body would feel too tired to get out of bed, because of the way the iron lady treated me. Unfortunately, there was no one I could share my pain with. Not my father or even another teacher. To my father, he would blame me for being the villain, and to my teachers, I wouldn't have the mind to air that complaint.
The entire class bustled with activities this Friday morning. My classmates were busy trying to memorise and spell words from a textbook. In my usual nature, I was quietly studying in preparation for this too, alone.There was an interclass spelling competition, and I was lucky enough to be chosen by the principal, after she saw my performance in the general test. The morning we were to write our names after qualifying for the first stage, she had made me believe my score was not up to the needed score. I had accepted my fate, only to be called by our principal the next morning.
The stage had been set. My hands began to get cold. I couldn't afford to fail my class. My teacher would have my head slaughtered, especially because I wasn't on her list from the foregoing. My classmates all wore their garments of confidence, except for me who had so much to be worried about. Failure was not an option.
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Final round of the contest and my hands were shaking with so much sweat from my palms. I kept cleaning them against my uniform.
“Choose a number,” the teacher's voice echoed.
This was the last question that was to decide if my class or the Ruby class would win. I was sure I had seen this particular word during my practice, but somehow, fear got the best part of me, and I missed it. The Ruby class won. My heart sank. I began to search for my teacher to see the look on her face. I thought of all the terrible things she would do to me for letting the class down. My feet trembled that it took a while before I could step out of the hall after the competition.
As I moved out of the hall, I saw her coming, and immediately hid behind the door of the next class. I had failed, and I didn't need her to make me feel worse. Too bad, she could spot me and came after me.
“You did so well,” She said. I could have beaten my chest that this compliment wasn't for me, but I turned to realise no one else was there apart from the two of us. What happened to her scolding me for being foolish? It felt like something magical happened to her overnight. I looked at her sheepishly for a while trying to process what I heard. It was true! She was talking to me.
“Thank you, Ma.” I responded, still in awe.
As I made to leave the school that day, she handed me a pack which students who usually did exceptionally well got. Strange things were truly happening around me. Well, I had to rush home with my gift before whatever magic spell had caused her to be that nice would be removed, and she would retrieve her gift or even continue with her rude behaviour.
First impression does matter but not all the time. I'm glad your teacher realised that later . I just hope your dad was there too.
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Mary tried her best, failing doesn't mean the end of life. It is a stepping stone for a new beginning. I'm glad her teacher did not scold her as usual.
I am glad you did well despite your fear
Great story, congratulations.
This is such a beautiful and heartbreaking creative nonfiction story, @mbiatabasi. It's terrible that you were treated so harshly by your parents and teachers.
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It is a good thing to know that you did good in the end.
They teacher didn't do well, first impression matter but as a teacher she supposed to know that new student are always quiet and not too outspoken
Good foresight illustrated the interactive significance.
It's good to see your teacher misconstrue something about you, and that was clear.
Congratulations.
I support @mbiatabasi on this heartfelt interesting one.
😂😂
The ending got me laughing.
Teachers are meant to be nice to their students no matter what. Of course, they can be disciplinarians but as they use the rod with one hand, they use the other hand to pamper their students. It's how it's done.
Lovely yet funny story.
Well, I feel African fathers have a lot to learn when it comes to relationships with their children. The fact that they made choices for them from their infant stage without involving them, doesn't mean it should continue that way. They should at least give reasons for their actions and carry their children along bearing it in mind that one day the children will have to make decisions for themselves
Many of us did not really have a nice relationship with our dad growing up but thank God for growth and how things turned around.