Life as a student at Federal Government College, Okposi, wasn't all that rosy. There were 'BLACK' side of our school life. And because of these 'BLACK' sides, we could hardly wait for our schooling to be over, for the day when we would receive our WASSCE certificate that would proclaim to the world that we were "educated"; educated at Federal Government College, Okposi. Yet when I think of what students in the top class made us suffer, particularly the SS3 students, all that I will say about the BLACK side of our school life seems to pale to significance.
Those older students -I refuse to call them school-fellow- who were older and stronger than we were, and less strictly supervised, persecuted us in every conceivable way. They gave themselves superior air and had an inflated sense of their own importance -they probably felt they would never enjoy so much power again once out of the four walls of FGC Okposi- and perhaps, they were trying to get a little of their own back for the rough handling they themselves had experienced when they were in junior class: forgetting that excessive harsh treatment is perhaps not quite the best method of inculcating good behaviour.

I still remember -my hands and finger-tips that often suffer from blisters still remember!- what use to lie for us on our return to school from the holidays. Particularly after the longer vacation that will see us coming to a new class towards the second or third week of September. The grass in the school would be full: back of hostel, staff quarters, football field, ICT centre, back of administration block, the classroom area, the basketball, volleyball and lawn tennis court area, the Clinic area and so on. And of cause, there would be paper littered around the school compound.
"Get that all cleaned up!" the Labour master would say. "I want the whole school compound cleaned up at once!"
Most times as a student, I would wonder whether the school authority deliberately want to use this medium to punish us, or like my father would always say whenever I complained to him -MAKE US REAL MEN.- Since I know there are tractors in school that can easily do this work within hours of less Labour.
At once, there was enough work, damned hard work to last us for a whole week. Especially since the only tools with which we were provided were our hands, brooms, cutlass and hoes.

'Now see that it's done properly, and be quick about it,' the Labour master would say to the Labour prefects, "or you will have to answer for it!' And for this work, it's not left only for the Labour prefects to supervise. All the 72 prefects; in fact all SS3 students are obliged to join in the supervision.

So at an order from the Snr. Students we would all line up like peasants about to reap or glean a field, and we would start to work like members of a chain-gang. At the staff-quarters, it wasn't too bad: the grass there ain't as stubborn as the ones in the field and the supervision by the Snr. Students there ain't that severe because I think they were afraid of flogging a student at the staff-quarters. There was one part were trees are at it full. The sun could not penetrate here, and so we often a times take refuge under the shade of the trees.

If the work was not going as quickly as it ought to, the Snr students, instead of giving us a helping hand, used to find it simpler to whip us with branches pulled from the trees or their leather belt. Now bamboo wood is regrettable flexible; skilfully handled, the springy cane used to whistle piercingly, and fall like flails of fire on our backsides unknowingly. Our flesh stung and smarted, while tears of anguish sprang from our eyes and splashed on the grass.

In other to avoid this blows, most Snr students would ensure they are at where their school sons or daughters are working. Some jnr students that had no protective school father or mother, used to bribe our tyrants with provisions or money (settlement dues like it was called). And if we do not do this, the blows are redoubled by a wicked Snr students. They were administered with such furious generosity and with such diabolical gusto that even a deaf mute would have gathered that we were being flogged not so much to spur us on to work, but rather to lass us into a state of submissiveness in which we would be only too glad to give up our provision and money even down to the dinning hall meat.

Occasionally, one of us, worn out by such calculated cruelty, would have the courage to complain to complain to the Labour master or to our amiable Vice Principal, Mr Ochu Ama He would of course he very angry, but the punishment they inflicted on the Snr students was always negligible -nothing compared to what they had done to us-. And the fact is that however much we complained, our situation did not improve in the slightest. It often worsen. Perhaps, we should have complained more bitterly in unison, but somehow we never dreamed of doing so; I don't know whether it was loyalty or pride that kept us silent, but I can now see that we were at some point foolish to keep quite about it, for such beatings were utterly foreign to our nature, to the most fundamental and secret principles of our character and completely at variance with our passion for independence and equality.

2011 came, I was then among other student (-251 of us in SS3, after about 100 had been expelled or voluntarily left-) in my final year in FGC Okposi. I, too, was at last in the top class, among the Snr. Students whom we had so detested when we where in jnr class because they used to extort money from us and provisions and used to beat us and make us go through so many punishment like: Hanging on the eleventh hole in the rooms, riding okada, picking pin, lying down with our uniform on a soiled floor, fetching close to 10 buckets of water a day for the guys and close to 20 for the girls, all by one person. Here we were taking their place, and the hardships we had endured at their hands were now happily abolished from us.

But it was not enough simply to be in the Snr class. We had to be big in every sense of the word, and that meant we had to become Men and Ladies, no longer boys and girls. But I was still a child, despite the fact I was one of the 72 school prefects: I was considered not to have reached the again of manhood yet. Among my friends, most of whom are way older than me with two to three years, I was still looked upon as a child. Though I was 16 that year. I was younger than they. To me, I was a man. At least with all those body training by the Snr students and the dangling stuff in between my legs that was bigger than that of most of my older friends, I decided to label myself a man. Though a part of me still thought I had not reached the age at which I, too must be reborn, at which I, too must abandon my childhood and my innocence and become a man. But of cause, I was cautious of myself, the way I carried myself, the way I dressed, making sure my clothes are ironed, that I took my bath at least twice a day, that I don't "mong" for food like most of my mates do -but I loved my school beans.- AND I thought of having a GIRLFRIEND. At least with that, I would be looked upon not as a child, but as a man.

And finally, the day to leave the four walls of Federal Government College, Okposi came. 7th July, 2011. I felt I shouldn't leave. I cried all the through the night of 6th July, that last night as a student at FGC Okposi. I thought of how time flies. Just a couple of years back, 30th September, 2005 to be precise, I was a newly admitted student who know little of himself. And who above all things, want to go home to my parents and never return to FGC Okposi again. But the reverse was the case that Wednesday morning. As I carried my bag, with my few belongings in it, I fought back tears. I wish we didn't have to leave too soon. At least not after 6 years of enduring, 6 Years of acquaintance with ourselves, the school and the Okposi community. And also, the "SPAGGI" at Iyaba, Ogbonne joint; just after the fence bordering our school and a stream called ATA, though we called it TABUM.

With my bag in hand, I sort for my friends to say goodbye.I looked for Blessing Oko Idam and Precious Presh to bid them well, but they weren't within range. Then my eyes caught Esther Chinonyerem, I embraced her and said bye. Mind you, these three ladies were my best female friends in school.

Bag in hand, I left Federal Government College, Okposi, saying goodbye with tears on my face to friends.

And now, when I think of those days at Federal Government College, Okposi, I do nothing else but feel grateful. The school that helped in shaping me mentally, physically, spiritually and otherwise. It taught me ENDURANCE like it was a subject in school curriculum. How I so much long for those days now. But of cause, we all must grow up and leave somethings behind.

Long live my many memories of FGC OKPOSI
Long live my alma mater.... FGC OKPOSI
LONG LIVE MY TEACHERS
LONG LIVE ALL THE PRODUCTS OF THIS GREAT COLLEGE
Long live my friends...
Anita Chima
Chinonso Newman
Newman Excellent
Ugochukwu Orie
Odi Chukwuemeka Valentine
Sunday Agwu Jr.
Flexto
El Montecristo Styno TG
And many more