Been reminiscing about my good old secondary school days.

I’m not much of a storyteller, but if you remember something from your past for long enough, you’re literally reliving it.

There’s this spiritual belief that when such happens, the person is about to go meet his/her creator.

No, I’m not. Not yet. Abeg.

In SS3, I was the laboratory prefect.

I was initially nominated for the post of Head girl and I passed the written screening exam. But most of the teachers didn’t think I was good enough. Their loss.

‘Kò bold tòó’, one of them had mumbled during the interview.

Being the Lab prefect was fun contrary to my initial thoughts; easy access to the chemicals (my favorite part), equipment and keys to the labs.

The lab was usually where I read when the library got crowded during exam days. 

I also often got info on AOCs for tests from the teachers which I would eventually share with my classmates.

Not all prefects or class representatives did this but I like a fair game.

It was also a lot of work too. I repeat, a looooooot of work.

I was responsible for cleaning, monitoring and sometimes coordinated practicals for the juniors.

Since prefects technically did part of the teachers’ jobs, one would assume we had our share of their salaries.

Instead we got a lot of thank you’s laced with incentives like money, food or snacks.

Not to brag, I was a pretty outstanding student. I represented my school in competitions both at the local and state level and we usually ended up as one of the top three winners.

At the end of every session, I was the star girl when it came to the collecting prices, especially in pure sciences. 

Except for Physics.

My poor performance wasn’t because I disliked the subject, the problem was my teacher.

Mr. Lukmon.

Dark like charcoal, short like Humpty Dumpty and as plump as a bean bag.

No offense if you’re any of these. I’m dark and short too.

Students disliked him because he was nosy which was why they nicknamed Lukuluku.

I’ve lost count of the number of times he reported me to my mum, another teacher or even the principal. I was his regular victim.

Most of the time, it was over trivial and slimy issues like when he told my mum a boy gave me a valentine’s gift or when I got into a brawl with one of my classmates.

No student likes a nosy teacher. We all just want to be left alone like the adults we are not.

You must think this wasn’t a good reason to fail any subject reason but when it came to his teaching, I had issues.

He was either incapable of passing knowledge or just too lazy to put in the effort.

Almost all my teachers had interesting personalities and so had interesting nicknames. 

Ghost rider, busaya, matron, frog face, baba ologi… I could go on and on.

Is it Mr. Leye that was nicknamed Winning Eleven because he had one tribal back on each of his cheeks, Mr. Timi that was nicknamed Psycho (acted psychotic during class) or Mr Dele that was given Sparko becaused he apparently only took scolding students seriously.

These three were famous for using pankere.

Students don’t nickname you unless you have wronged them.

The nicer you are, the nicer your nickname is.

I resolved to be outstanding to reciprocate my uncle’s support.

In SS2, at the end of the first term, my uncle got me a present for my outstanding performance.

It was Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus. 

It was the first contemporary African novel I read and it bolstered my interest in African literature.

Uncle is apparently the only one in my family that does that. Mum thinks I got the brilliance from her, she keeps reminding me of our good she was in her days.

Parents must be so proud.

We were at least 70 in a classroom, each class having about 6 arms. Hint that the school was government owned. 

I enjoyed it. More exposure and more students meant more competition. The Fimi style.

Though, there were a couple downsides like the poor monitoring, some teachers’ nonchalant attitude and the poor waste management system.

Mrs. Adebisi was my favorite teacher. She taught Economics and was always serious with work.

I usually helped her with filling score sheets and report cards and she would compensate me by either paying my transport fare or buying me a snack.

My favorite subject would be Biology mostly because I excelled at it.

One time, I had 98% and when I found out, it felt like I just saved the world from a space invasion.

That is exactly how I feel now and I don’t wonder.

I’ll give you the full gist on the next post.

Because this is enough storytelling for one day.

I remain my wonderful self.

Fimi