— Everything New
Everything New
Everything became new as we prepared for our common entrance examinations.
Being a prefect in other schools meant that you had the potential to get into the school you desired, but not in my school. Christiana’s parents have already made arrangements for her to transfer to a private secondary school in Ikeja.
The father had a sister who was willing to fund her tuition all through her stay at the school. Her aunt had recommended a new school, stating that public schools aren’t what they were years ago. Christiana was excited at the prospect of not getting to sit in three’s. The liberty to interrupt a teacher when he or she was explaining without being termed disrespectful was part of the enthusiasm buckled up within her.
Job’s father was a military man and had also arranged Job’s transfer to Command Secondary School, Lagos. Job was optimistic about the new life that awaited him at the boarding school. We’d hear rumors about boarders who saw different things at night. Weird and unrealistic things had been reported to take place in a boarding school. Nothing was more frightening to Job than the idea of his father forcing him to become a soldier like him.
Though we admired the personality in the uniform, Job saw a different personality at home. Job’s father had subjected his mother to domestic violence for years, coupled with his usual boozing and smoking. His mother garnered courage from other officers’ wives, who encouraged her to adopt the same measure adopted by them.
The panel designed to address such issues in the barracks was informed. They took the necessary steps. Job’s father was disciplined and warned never to be violent with his wife ever again.
I wasn’t nominated as a prefect at the school, but I had a good and honorable reputation as one of the best students. Being a prefect was never about the brain in my school; it was always about one’s physique.
None of the prefects in my school had ever represented the school at any event.
They were chosen as school prefects not because they were the best in academics but because they had the ability to handle the students physically. These were people with huge bodies. People whose voices sounded intimidating to other students. They were the class captains who could make a noise making class silent without the help of the teacher.
They were older than the classes they were in. They were pupils who’d bring mature discussions into healthy children’s conversations. But they were never bullies. They were never hostile but intolerant of naughtiness. Perhaps that was the reason Fela was never chosen to be among the prefects.
My closest friends were parting ways after our exams, but I was still unsure where I was headed.
The thoughts of secondary school life roamed through my head. As much as I wanted to grow, just to have the features a grown-up girl had and the special attention given to a mature girl, especially by boys, I still admired being a child.
Childhood was filled with innocence.
People see the world through a child as a hopeful place. Through the eyes of a child, trust is created and stood by. I wanted to remain in that state and, at the same time, see the world for what it truly was.
We wrote our exams and passed as expected from each of us. Some of my classmates decided it was time they tried something new for themselves aside from education. Some knew the next phase would be tougher, and still others were just glad to be out of Mr. Smart’s class.
By the time my result was out, my mother had already chosen a school for me. Though I had picked one of the model colleges in Lagos, I knew it was just a mirage.
My mother scorned the idea of going to boarding school. My siblings saw it as a child’s fantasy.
Falomo Secondary School was arranged for me after some settlements with the necessary people.
My mother took me to the CMS bookshop, where we got what I would need for resumption.
She bought her favorite set of notebooks. My mother wouldn’t buy notes if they weren’t ONWARD. A pack of pens and other stationery were bought just to ensure I was ready to resume.
Also Read JOAN The Writer – Three
“How do you feel?” Justina asked me casually.
“Fine, I guess.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” This time, she asked with a serious look.
“I think I’ll be fine.”
“No, you won’t unless you talk to me,” she said, insisting.
Without being asked, we both grabbed the bench in the corridor of our house and had the sincerest and longest conversation we’ve ever had as siblings.
“I see you are mentally ready for the real world. Always remember you have a father in your brother and a second mother in your sister,” she said, smiling.
We never did a hug thing in the family.
I didn’t bother to make any attempt at that, even though the thought crossed my mind. I shoved it off instead, smiled back at her, and said a sincere, ‘thank you.’
The Sunday to resumption I went once again to the church we visited as a family. I remembered praying this funny but sincere prayer:
“Dear God,”
“I know you love little children. I hear people say it a lot. I have a long list of things I expect, things I desire, and things I want. I try to love everyone, but not when Fela upsets me. I like to tell the truth only when it’s convenient. I know I’m a little silly, though it could be extreme. I believe you know better. Please help me in this new phase of life. Help me to write about it someday; that’s if you would help me through it all. Amen.”
I hung around the church a little longer, trying to engage those I perceived to be in my age group. I was waiting to hear anyone talk about a new school they were planning to attend. I found a girl later who was my agemate. She was going to a new school. But not even on the island.
I worried about the students I would be meeting.
Mrs. Afolayan wasn’t going to be there to at least scream “Joan!” like she did in Class 6B.
These are things I reminisced on until I fell asleep on the couch in the living room.
