Disclaimer: Gender equality is when as a woman I'm allowed to seat in the front row during services/meetings never mind that my hot legs might distract the faithful brothers/husbands. No?
I mean you don't see me running commentary every time I notice your bulge. Please shift.
I remember the very first time I wrote something I was proud of . It was my first year of senior secondary school and my English teacher, Mrs Akpojewa had given the class an essay topic as a take home assignment.
When she was done grading the assignment, she asked me to read my essay out loud to the whole class. Apparently it was that good.
Half the entire class was convinced that my mother had written the essay for me (she was an English teacher at the time).
I couldn't be bothered really, I was just so excited that someone found my writing commendable.
I rode on that high for weeks and it did wonders for my confidence levels.
Conversely in my final year in junior secondary school, I had this particularly interesting Introductory Technology teacher. Her style was that if you messed up in class, you got whacked on the head or hands with a wooden T square. I was her usual victim because, wear glasses Esther will not wear and so all my drawings were always off.
She was the one who nicknamed me "Unfortunate European"
She scared me so much so that by the time JSSCE came around, I was very sure that I wasn't going to do Intro Tech in my SS1 because she was the one teaching the class as well. Bye bye Civil Engineering dreams. Sorry Dad.
Today I remember and appreciate all my teachers, who in their own way, unbeknownst to them, have influenced me and left lasting impressions in my life that have extended beyond the four walls of a classroom. You are the real MVP's, our unsung heroes. God bless you for your commitment to shaping our future.
Mbok permit me to dish out some unsolicited advice to those of you going for NYSC in October. If you find yourself posted to a school, please do me a favor and capitalize on the opportunity to make a difference in the younger generation. Give it your best.
And if you were one of those students who gave teachers hell in school....abeg my ink don finish.
I mean you don't see me running commentary every time I notice your bulge. Please shift.
I remember the very first time I wrote something I was proud of . It was my first year of senior secondary school and my English teacher, Mrs Akpojewa had given the class an essay topic as a take home assignment.
When she was done grading the assignment, she asked me to read my essay out loud to the whole class. Apparently it was that good.
Half the entire class was convinced that my mother had written the essay for me (she was an English teacher at the time).
I couldn't be bothered really, I was just so excited that someone found my writing commendable.
I rode on that high for weeks and it did wonders for my confidence levels.
Conversely in my final year in junior secondary school, I had this particularly interesting Introductory Technology teacher. Her style was that if you messed up in class, you got whacked on the head or hands with a wooden T square. I was her usual victim because, wear glasses Esther will not wear and so all my drawings were always off.
She was the one who nicknamed me "Unfortunate European"
She scared me so much so that by the time JSSCE came around, I was very sure that I wasn't going to do Intro Tech in my SS1 because she was the one teaching the class as well. Bye bye Civil Engineering dreams. Sorry Dad.
Today I remember and appreciate all my teachers, who in their own way, unbeknownst to them, have influenced me and left lasting impressions in my life that have extended beyond the four walls of a classroom. You are the real MVP's, our unsung heroes. God bless you for your commitment to shaping our future.
Mbok permit me to dish out some unsolicited advice to those of you going for NYSC in October. If you find yourself posted to a school, please do me a favor and capitalize on the opportunity to make a difference in the younger generation. Give it your best.
And if you were one of those students who gave teachers hell in school....abeg my ink don finish.