An Old But Everlasting Memory

An Old But Everlasting Memory

Photo by RDNE Stock project

Life is full of memories, some of which put smiles on our faces upon remembrance and some regret and wishes, but the good thing about every memory we make in life is that it leaves us with lessons.

I came from a poor background, none of my parents was a government worker or even had a good source of income while I was growing up. Those days farming was the deal of the day but unfortunately, my father had no land to farm upon.

I grew up to know my father as a local sculptor, he caves wood into amazing figures but back then, people didn't value things like that, sometimes he worked for people and he didn't even get paid.

My Mom on the other hand was a food seller, life was so hard. But a mother would also be a mother, my mom took the responsibility of sending us to school because she believes that there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

Those days, only the rich could afford private schools, so she enrolled me in one of the government schools around and I was so happy about it because I love education so much.

But you know the problem with public schools, it takes only the grace of God for one to really cope with learning. I was taking third position in class but trust me, I don't even know my alphabet completely.

Something happened during one of the examinations while I was in class three. You know those days, teachers read questions for the class during examinations for the sake of those who don't know how to read.

I was a very smart student even though I didn't know how to read, I knew the answer to the questions and God was wonderful, teachers always wrote the options A, B, C, and D for us on the board, and it made everything just easy. In fact, teachers were too kind then, they could even write for you provided you tell them what you wanted to write, God bless public schools.

After I finished answering the questions, I stood up and went straight to my class teacher's desk. It's a female, I can remember the scene vividly. I told her man, "I am done," she raised her head and looked at me, "Are you sure?" She asked. "Yes ma," I replied.

"Let me have it," she replied, extending her hand. I didn't hesitate, I joyfully handed the paper to her, knowing that what I wrote was right.

While I was going to sit down she called me back. "Hey, come here," she shouted. Don't blame her for calling me "hey," we were up to 100, if not more than that, in the class.

When I came, she asked, "Why didn't you write your name?" Hehehe, I wrote everything as it should, my class subject and date, because it was boldly written on the board but the space for name, I left it blank.

I blushed, then put my head down, "Ma, I didn't bring the book that has my name written on it today, that is why I didn't write my name," I replied.

Gosh! The woman couldn't believe her ears, she laughed hard, you must be joking. "You are in primary three and you don't know how to write your name, what a shame" I looked at her and started smiling. "Look at him, What is his name," she asked me.

"Emmanuel James," I replied without hesitation. she wrote it and said, "Bye, bye Mr man." I walked away still smiling, I remember I didn't even thank her, I was so ashamed. Every detail of that scene is still fresh in my head.

When I got back home, I told my mother what happened in school and she also laughed at me. She didn't know how I was feeling inside. That became the Genesis of me wanting to know how to read and write for myself.

After that experience, I began pestering my mom to take me to a private school and she did subsequently. God being too merciful, it didn't take me a term in the school. I became a star. I picked up very fast. Before the end of the term, I knew how to read and how to write, and not just that, I was topping my class.

I wish I could remember the face of that teacher who told me "You are in primary three and don't know how to write your name, what a shame." I wish I could get to meet her again to thank her for spurring me to bring out the best in myself.

Each time I remember that scene I laugh alone. Some people think I just knew how to read and write, they didn't know there was a story behind it. Anybody I tell the story to laughs at me. Though it is funny, it always reminds me that nothing is impossible in life, except we don't give it a good shot.

Why is the memory special?

It's a special memory for me because it is the memory of what triggered me to become the man that I am today. I can forget anything in life but that memory will never go away, sometimes I just smile when I see myself writing well.

I use my story to motivate a lot of people, especially my students. I always tell them there was a period of time in my life when my teacher laughed at me because I couldn't write my name but look at me today.

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