The next morning, Vicky’s driver came to pick us and I noticed that Chidindu wasn’t in the car. I wanted to ask Vicky why but her face showed me that she could not be bothered by his absence.
When we got to school we went straight to the assembly hall where our principal, Mrs Khadija announced that the school’s first continuous assessment tests were to commence next week.
After the assembly, she asked the SS3 students to remain in the hall because she had been receiving complaints about their conduct in the school’s exam hall where they were writing their WAEC (West African Examinations Council) exam.
Since CJ was an SS3 student he had started writing the exams last month along with his classmates. Sometimes at home, he’d lock himself in his room and sometimes he’d act like he wasn’t writing an exam at all. According to him, it was his own way of coping with all the exam stress.
My family knew better than to ask if he was actually reading, we had all come to understand that no matter how unserious he seemed during exams he would never give us a reason to worry.
After the assembly we had English, Mrs Uche, our English teacher walked into the class with Dumebi following behind her. Dumebi was helping her to carry some of her teaching textbooks. The girl dropped the books on the big table in front of the class and went to her seat, Mrs Uche then started to address us.
“Good morning class, I’m sure you all heard the announcement about your 1st C.A tests.”
“Yes oh! and that means no football for us for a week.” One boy shouted in annoyance and his friends echoed in agreement.
Mrs Uche smiled and said calmly, “I’m really sorry for that boys but that’s not what we're here to talk about.” She gave the boy a sharp look and he looked shamefaced.
That’s one thing about Mrs. Uche, even though she had a calm exterior and always had a pleasant look on her face. Her eyes said otherwise. Her eyes alone could tell you not to mess around in her class. She reminded me a lot of those people from 19th-century British novels whose jobs were to teach children, I think they were called governesses.
“I’m not going to be conducting any tests for you next week.” She said every word that came out of her mouth was well pronounced.
Some people started celebrating while some shouted: “Why?” “Is that even allowed?” “What about our grades?”
When they calmed down she continued.
“Next week I’m not going to be around at all so I spoke to your principal and she agreed to let me give you an essay to write.”
She picked up her marker and walked to the whiteboard.
“Write a 5-page essay on any topic of your choice.”
The whole class erupted in shouts of complaints after seeing what she had written on the board. She turned to us with a sly smile.
“Can’t you do it?” she asked.
“Ah! No ma! You no want make I sleep this week again? (You don’t want me to sleep again this week?).” Dumebi shouted and everyone laughed.
We were all expecting Mrs Uche to reprimand Dumebi for using pidgin in her class but she didn’t say anything. She just smiled and continued talking.
“Your essay is going to be in the form of a group project, it’s going to be 5 people per group. Each of you is to write a 1000-word essay and compile them in a book for your group.”
“When’s the deadline?” Amina asked.
“It’s this Friday.”
When the class started to object, she silenced them with a raise of her hand.
YOU ARE READING
Nigerian Girl
Teen FictionChizaram's life is simple. There are only three things that matter to her. Number one is her Family, which is also the most important. Number two is the not very strict, not very adhered rules that her parents have put in place for her and her sibli...
