Blastus Pastus

This came from reading ~mimi~'s post about a teacher who picked on her in high school. I didn't have a singular teacher who did so and I must confess that when I was punished, I was usually deserving of the punishment.

There was my English Teacher in form 1, Mrs. Apara, who gave me the name, Huckleberry Finn, after the character in 'Tom Sawyer' because my white uniform looked scruffy after just a term. Don't blame me, I was 10, my mum wasn't around to oversee stuff and I could soak my uniform a week before washing. Its amazing how much to the end of the spectrum I moved after a few years, unable to wear another's shirt if I could even detect body musk on it.

There was "Baba" Okonkwo who taught my father and taught me. Yeah, my father, uncles, older brothers and cousins all went to the same school. I think by my time, Baba Okonkwo had become a fixture.

There was Mr H. in my 2nd form, who would ask us, "Why are you lavving?". I swear. He taught English too.

There was Mrs. F who was pregnant through my entire secondary school stay. She bred more than rabbits did.

There was one Mrs. Somebody (no relative of the blogger but cant recollect her name) who would tell us daily- "Woe betide you".

There was Mr Abayomi, a sadist who taught us Agricultural Science and derived great pleasure from beating us black and blue. He'd enter the class and announce his palms were itching and then he'd look for any excuse to beat us half to death. I still owe him.

There was the portly Mrs Mbom who taught us Bible Knowledge in the 3rd form and asked my classmate, Joseph Ikunna, whom the Acts of the Apostles was written to. Ikunna replied, Mr. O. Theophilus and threw the entire class into laughter. Luke who wrote the Acts started with "As I wrote earlier, O Theophilus". Mrs Mbom caught me scribbling Ikunna's gaffe down on a piece of paper, held me in a neck-lock and severely pummelled me.

There was Mr Satish (or "Satiri yanna yanna" as we liked to call him) from India. He taught us Maths and told how he had to know the Multiplication table up until x20 by age 5 or he wouldn't be given breakfast. I was 13 and still struggling.

There was my favourite, Miss Oduwole who taught us the English Language and Literature in the 3rd form. She was pretty, petite, and I was her favourite.

There was Mr Subuloye who threatened to kill all truants from the Maths Class who had been giving his course a bad name. I carried a banner in that procession. He wrote a long list and beat them all silly but I absconded. I eneded up not doing my mock school certificate exams because I was afraid he'd trap me in the exam hall.

There was the dimunitive Ms Job, also from India, who taught Literature in the 4th form. She announced, 'the person who came first in literature has horrible writing.' That was me.

The pretty Indian, Mrs. Kamal, taught Government. I'm afraid she didn't teach it well.

There was the 'police dog', the Principal, Mr Olukunle's driver, who also carried a cane and was allowed to whip students. I still owe that one too.

School can be a terrifying place for children as well as a place of great fun. Parents really need to keep their eyes open. All in all, I had good times there.