Hello everyone. Let’s take a walk down memory lane today; shall we?
Who remembers growing up, going to school for the first time and having to learn how to read, write and calculate? Well I do, and those weren’t quite the funny experiences! The first time I went to school (at the age of two if my memory serves me right), I literarily cried my eyes out. Whereas everyone was excited for me with all that “bobo goes to school” stuff, I felt miserable while wondering why the heck schooling was so important. And despite all my tantrums and protests, I still had to go and it was a trauma.
The real trauma however began when those recitations and especially the A.B.Cs began. Okay let me be real, the short poems and the songs were actually fun. What wasn’t funny however was having to learn those alphabets and count the 1.2.3s. I got home every day feeling exhausted and hating the schooling experience even more. But unknown to me, more difficult [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][school] days were ahead.
As the years passed, my parents and elder siblings went from petting me constantly to demanding that I learn how to read. I was just five years old at the time and I remember I would sit for long minutes just staring at those texts and wondering why in the world anybody needed to read. I could see the alphabets, each one haphazardly arranged with the other in the strangest way possible. It was nothing like the regular A.B.CS which I had come to master so well. As I wondered why this was so, many people tried to explain to me that those alphabets were taught me so I could be able to form words and write sentences with them. Unfortunately, their explanations sounded like utter gibberish to me.
Meanwhile, as I continued struggling to learn how to read and write, most of my mates left me behind. It was at this point that school became hellish for me. Every time it was time for English Language, the class teacher would appoint someone at random to read a passage. Each time, any pupil appointed would slay the moment. Things continued this way until one unfortunate day when the teacher looked at me and said-
“You over there, could you read page 57 for the class, please? Thank you very much.”
I froze in my seat, pretending not to be there. Perhaps she wasn’t talking to me after all, I thought. Or perhaps if I pretended well enough she would forget that I was even there. But I was a fool for thinking that way because the woman was all up in my face before I realized it.
“Read, please” she said.
But I couldn’t. All I could do was stand up, my entire body shaking like a cold puppy. It wasn’t long before the other began to laugh and make fun of me. And from that day onwards, I became the laughing stock of the class as well as the bullies’ easy target.
Up until I was nearly seven years old I still could not read a word. This came with much embarrassment both from my colleagues at school, the teacher and of course my family. Much later in life I would understand that I was struggling with what is called dyslexia. I wasn’t dumb; no. I only found it difficult to learn at the same pace with everyone else. But I thank my sister who was forcing me to learn at the time. She would lock me up in a room alone with her and then begin reading out the words one after the other while requiring me to repeat each one after her. Sometimes I cried, other times I was hopeful. And just like that, I began to read/write simple words. My favourites at the time included words like “is”, “that”, “those”, “is”, “was” etc. I kept struggling, learning one word at a time until I literarily built my basic vocabulary from the scratch. A time finally came when I didn’t have to just stare vacantly at the texts on the pages wondering what to do with them. A time came when I became the “toast” of my class, famous for making impossibly good grades and always leaving such wide gaps between me and the second best in the class…
There is a moral in this tale I’d like y’all to bear to heart, and that is the fact that nothing good comes easy. Most times, hard work and perseverance remain your surest bets to accomplishing great feats. The sooner you begin to stay focused, putting extra hard work and being determined even in the face of discouragements the better you’d be preparing yourself for a successful life.
Do have a good one, please! [/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
