My first day at work - as a music teacher at a junior secondary school. I was nervous; who wouldn't be? Not because I was going to be seeing a lot of strange faces - c'mon their kids. Or because someone might throw up (I have a pathological fear of people throwing up) or worse still, faint. It was nervous because students can be tiny demons sent from the very depths of hell to torment their teachers and drive them to borderline depression. How do I know this? Mainly because I was one of such tiny demons once.

I've stood before my mirror and tried "teaching" myself for the past two weeks to be sure the wasn't anything about my speech that students could pick up on and laugh at me about. Back in secondary school, we had a Christian Religious Studies teacher, Mrs. Olusegun, who always pronounced "Abraham" as "Abraiham" for some reason I really don't know. Ironically, the most stubborn and bone headed student in my class was named Abraham, so she always had to scream at him and, in the process, call out his name, much to the delight of we, the students and we would quietly snigger, while the poor woman wondered what was funny. Things got to a head when, one day in class, she asked which biblical character is known for being the father of nations. Tolani, Abraham's wife-in-trouble stood up and said, without batting an eyelid:

"Father Abraiham."

The whole class burst into spontaneous laughter. I'm sure till now, the woman would be wondering what was funny about an answer that was obviously correct.

Or Miss Jide, our Home Economics who always pronounced "measure" as "meyor". One day, she burst into the class during prep and was ranting at Tolani about how dirty her younger sister was (she was also house mistress). Eventually she calmed down and asked Tolani what her sister's name was. Tolani simply replid: "Treyor" and the woman left, satisfied. Treasure must have been wondering why Miss Jide kept calling her Treyor without realising it was her elder sister's doing!

Well I hoped I didn't have any such problems. Last thing I wanted was for students to giggle whenever I showed up for class. I hoped that whatever classes I would be teaching would have just seriious students that wanted to learn - not class clowns that would turn a serious class to a laughter fest - for the other students. For the teacher, it would be Nebuchadnezzer's furnace. Like Arinze who's very existence seemed to be driven by the need to turn each class to his personal comedy show. Once in Yoruba class, the teacher had asked students to provide examples of nouns and Arinze raised his hand to answer. She was surprised as he had never wanted to answer questions before so, probably out of curiosity, she asked for his answer.

"Bolu" He said, meaning ball. She was impressed and asked the class to give him a round of applause. No sooner had he sat down than his hand was up again. The woman was astonished. Arinze actually seemed to be getting it and was enjoying her class, to the extent of providing answers to questions! Again, she ignored other raised hands and asked him for his answer. The camel got up and said:

"B. Bolu".

She didn't know B. Ball was what we called basketball but the laughter that followed the answer told her shenanigans were afoot and she asked him to go kneel outside.

Then the nicknames. Probably the worst part of being a teacher. The same way the students gave themselves nicknames was the very same way they gave teachers nicknames - only worse. You didn't know you had a nickname till it was in wide circulation and you would usually find out in the most amazing ways. Mr. Hippolyte, the other C.R.S teacher was known as Mr. Hippopolatus, a name that became so widely used in the school that most students forgot the man's actual name. And he was oblivious to the fact till one day, a student he had punished reported the matter to his father, who promptly showed up at the school the next day to complain. After listening to the complaint, the principal asked the boy which teacher had inflicted said punishment.

"Mr. Hippoplatus." The boy replied, deadpan.

"Mr. who?" The principal asked.

"Hippopolatus." The boy affirmed.

"We don't have any teachers by that name in this school."

"MY C.R.S teacher." The boy explained, more to his father than the principal.

"Oh, you mean Mr. Hippolyte?" The baffled principal asked.

"No," the boy answered, shaking his head vigorously. "Mr. Hippopolatus."

As providence would have it, Mr. Hippolyte chose that moment to make his appearance outside the principal's window as he made his way to his next class and the boy immediately signaled to his father that his punisher was passing.

"Mr. Hippolyte." The principal called. The man kept walking.

"Excuse me, Mr. Hippolyte." Either the man was hard of hearing or he wanted to act like he wasn't hearing the principal's calls because he kept right on walking. The principal promptly upgraded his call to a yell:

"MR. HIPPOPOLATUS!"

I don't know if that's what actually happened, but the boy swore it was. And the boy was Hassan, my best friend in school.

So i'm standing in front of a class of fifty beady-eyed students that seem to be staring at me to figure out what ridiculous nickname to saddle me with for the remainder of my stay as a teacher in this school. Or just waiting for me to say something silly. Or say something like "meyor" or "Father Abraiham". But i'm prepared. I've been preparing for this for weeks. I'm ready.

I start teaching and soon get rather at ease. The students are responding well, there's no idiot that tries to make fun of whatever I say and I clearly have no speech defects of any kind. After thirty five minutes, the bell goes to signal the end of the period. I'm pleased at how my first class has gone. This could be easy afterall.

It's pretty windy and looks like it's going to rain. I would have to get back to the staff room pretty soon if I didn't want to get caught in the rain, so I pack my books and head out of the class. Just as I stood in the doorway, a strong gust of wind slams the door shut, pushing me out of the doorway....

....And flat on my face on the corridor outside the class.

That roar of laughter will haunt me for the rest of my life.

And my nickname?

Fall-out boy.

I need a new job already.

Thanks for taking time out to read this! Want to use this medium to tell you guys about UpLibe, a social Library startup i'm working on. It's a platform for borrowing, lending, exchanging, giving out and reviewing books for free - with online book clubs included. You can read moree about it on this thread: https://www.nairaland.com/2651460/uplibe-social-library-project-free . Ciao!

Sebonzakura is back again

Warlord3000:


Sebonzakura is back again

Hehehe, I never really leave though.

Sebon... You ehn.

*laughing out loud*

Seb, did you say anything relating to 'fall out'?

What you sow, you shall reap.

avicky:
Seb, did you say anything relating to 'fall out'?

What you sow, you shall reap.

hehehe

this one na real laughing gas,oga sebon keep it up.

But Senbon, shee this your Fall-out Boy has nothing to do with the rock band of the same name?

Warlord3000:


Sebonzakura is back again

i dey tellll you