Jumoke
“I hate Mondays,” I grumbled, dragging myself out of bed after that infernal alarm clock shrieked. Seriously, I regret even asking for an alarm clock – it’s the stupidest thing I own.
Honestly, who *doesn’t* hate Mondays? I’d endured four of them at my new school, and believe me, they were brutal. Not because the students were mean, but because the workload was relentlessly, impossibly bulky.
Monday mornings, the school usually looked like a pigsty. Understandable, after Friday’s playing and the inevitable scattering of biscuit wrappers and sweet wrappers across the floor. The boarders tackled their cleaning duties earlier than the day students.
I often wondered why the administration didn’t just hire more cleaners. Apparently, they wanted us to “learn to clean up after ourselves.” Fair enough, I conceded, if a bit sanctimonious.
After the drudgery of cleaning, we were subjected to two periods of Data Processing with a teacher who could make watching paint dry seem exciting.
I questioned why I’d chosen that trade subject. I should have opted for Catering Crafts. At least during practicals, you could be munching on chin chin and cake instead of staring at a stupid computer screen.
Today, Dad wasn’t driving us to school; we had to walk. It wasn’t entirely awful, admittedly. It was a walkable distance. What made it unbearable was walking alongside my walking Iroko brother, who didn’t bother checking if you were still beside him. He took long strides and never glanced back. You had to sprint to keep up. I’d trade him for a bag of pure water any day.
I brushed my teeth, took a quick bath, and ate breakfast in a rush. A first for me. I usually lingered over my meal, but today wasn’t one of those days.
“Mummy, we’re leaving,” I announced.
My mum came down the stairs, clutching her purse. She handed five hundred naira to Tunde.
“Eh!! Mummy, don’t give Tunde my money, he won’t give me the complete amount.” I protested.
Tunde glared at me, murderous.
“Tunde, are you cheating her?” Mum asked, her eyes narrowing in anger.
Tunde suddenly seemed incapable of speech.
“Am I talking to someone who’s deaf?” Mum demanded.
“I wasn’t cheating her, I was helping her save it,” he stammered, hopelessly attempting to salvage the situation.
“Saving what? How much has she saved so far?” Mum pressed, standing akimbo.
“Um…” Tunde stuttered.
“Answer me before I slap you into next week.” Mum threatened.
“I didn’t count it.”
“No problem. Today, I’ll give her your own money.”
“Ah ahn, Mummy, please.” He begged.
“That’s what you get for being a yahoo boy. Jummy, take your money.” She handed me the money, and I briefly felt pity for him, but it didn't last long. Let him suffer for today.
*****
Though I wasn’t late for morning assembly, I arrived later than usual. I remembered that girl who’d been rude to me on my first day. Her name was Elizabeth, and since then, we’d become sworn enemies. Nobody liked her in class anyway; she was so full of herself.
I bumped into her while heading to my seat.
“Are you stupid?” she yelled.
I walked past her, ignoring her outburst. Not today, Satan!
“Good morning, people,” Sandra greeted the class cheerfully.
“Good morning, Sandra. You’re late today, what happened?” Chioma asked.
“I was haggling with the bus conductor,” she said, and we burst into laughter.
“Have you guys done your Geography assignment?” Folake asked.
“Which one?” Chioma asked, puzzled.
“The one she told us to draw a map of Nigeria showing the reliefs and drainage.”
“I haven’t!”
We all pulled out our sketchpads and started sketching. Within ten minutes, we were done. Mrs. Adedotun, the Geography teacher, showed us the quickest way to draw a map of Nigeria.
“Sandra, your map looks like an amoeba,” Chioma teased.
We erupted in laughter.
“Please, leave it for me like that,” Sandra retorted.
The bell rang for assembly. We hurriedly shoved our sketchpads into our lockers and bolted out. Crystal High students moved with the speed of light once that bell went off.
I joined the SSS1 girls’ line with my friends.
“Hey, you’re stepping on my socks,” I told the girl in front of me.
“Sorry, I didn’t notice,” she said, bending to help me clean it, but I waved her off.
“No need. It’s okay.”
“Assembly perfect!” The principal bellowed, startling the entire school. That man could shout for Africa. “Where’s she?”
You know when you annoy someone, especially your parents, and they’re like, “Don’t let me show you my red eye”? We think it’s just an expression. Well, this man was a perfect example that it’s actually not a lie.
His eyes turned red every time he was angry. I feared him like crazy.
The assembly prefect rushed to the podium, panting. Apparently, she’d been late.
“Were you late?” The principal demanded, his voice laced with rage.
“N-No sir, I w-was doing something outside,” she replied. I didn’t blame her for lying. Nobody wanted to feel the wrath of this man.
“Lead the assembly. The next time I look for you, I’ll impeach you.” He warned.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she took a deep breath and faced us. We sang our worship songs, praises, hymns, and recited the pledge.
The principal was back to give us some information.
“Good morning, students.”
“Good morning, Mr. Adeoye. Good morning, vice principals, good morning teachers, good morning friends,” we all chorused. Honestly, the greetings were too long. One “Good morning” should be enough for everybody.
“How was your weekend?” Mr. Adeoye asked, though he clearly didn’t care.
“Fine, thank you, sir.”
“All these SS1 students that are always walking about,” he began. This man couldn’t go a day without complaining. “If I get a hold of you, you will hate yourselves. Since you don’t have work to do, I will give you work. SSS3 students, where are you?”
“We’re here, sir,” they chorused. I could hear my brother’s loud, annoying voice even though he wasn’t in SSS3.
“You guys have grown wings now, abi? Because you’re in your final year, you think you’re the boss. Look at how few of you are on the assembly ground. You don’t attend classes anymore, you come late to school, and you disrespect your teachers now. Mr. Habeeb!” He called out.
“Yes, sir.” Mr. Habeeb walked up to the podium.
Everybody hated Mr. Habeeb, the overzealous teacher. He was too harsh and wicked.
“Write the names of the SS3 students on the assembly ground. Include the names of the punctuality and labour prefects too.” The principal ordered.
“Alright, sir.”
The names were written, and we marched into our respective classes.
***********
The Data Processing teacher didn’t come to class today…thank God! As you’d expect in a typical Nigerian class with no teacher present, it was noisy and rowdy.
“Hello, class,” the ‘good boy’ and shortest kid in the class began.
“What is it, uncle?” Kunle, the comedian and troublemaker, asked.
“Please, let’s not make noise. Let’s use this free period to study our books. Before you know it, we will start writing exams.”
Honestly, there was nothing wrong with what he said, but he said the right thing at the wrong time. All work and no play make Jack a dull boy. Let’s just have a little fun for now.
“This guy is becoming too bold for his own good,” John, the backbencher shouted from behind.
All the Johns I’ve met were smart and sensible, but this John was the stupidest creature I’ve ever seen. Aside from being stupid, there was nothing inside his coconut head.
“Well… you can have your seat, young man. You’ve said your piece,” Kunle said sarcastically.
“He that has ears, let him hear,” Abraham continued. Seriously, wasn’t he going to give up?
“He that has legs, let him walk away and go back to his seat,” Kunle said.
The whole class burst into laughter. Abraham walked back to his seat and started reading. Poor boy, nobody listens to him.
“What class should you have now?” A deep, scary voice startled the whole class. Where did this man even come from? “Class captain?” he called.
“Sir,” Noah ran to the principal in fear.
“What do you have now?” he asked again.
“D…data processing, sir,” Noah replied.
“Where is the teacher?”
“She’s not around, sir.”
“Is that why the class is noisy? Can’t you read your books? If I come back here again and this class is still noisy, you all will crawl around the school premises on your knees. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.” We chorused.
Immediately, the class fell silent. The fear of your principal is the beginning of wisdom.
*******
It was break time. Remember Mum gave my brother’s money this morning? Well, I returned it…I felt bad.
Chioma, Sandra, and I were walking toward the snack shop. “Eh ehn…,” Sandra started, this girl always had the latest gossip. “Have you heard the latest?” She asked, clapping her hands dramatically, earning curious stares from passing students.
“Mind your business,” she told them.
“What news? Give us the scoop.” Chioma said.
“Jerome has broken up with Jessica,” Sandra said.
How does she know all this? More importantly, who in the world is Jerome?
“Finally! She’s dumped that witch.” Chioma said elatedly.
“Who is Jerome?” I asked them quizzically.
“Oh, I forgot you’re new. Jerome is the finest boy in the whole school, and when I mean finest…I mean this guy is crazy cute. Like Lee Min Ho type of cute. Practically, all the girls in the school are madly in love with him.” Chioma explained. “Not me though, I like my boys with a bit of ugly.”
“Jummy, you need to see this guy. You’ll start drooling at the sight of him.”
“Me? Drool? Am I mad? It’s not like he’s actually Lee Min Ho level of cute.” I rolled my eyes.
“You haven’t seen him yet. Wait until you do, the story will change.” Sandra said, adjusting her beret to the side.
“Why haven’t I seen him since I came to this school?” I asked.
“He hasn’t resumed yet. I heard he’s coming on Wednesday.” Sandra replied.
“You’re always ‘hearing’ things, amebo, business center,” Chioma teased.
I couldn’t wait to see this Almighty Jerome. Surely, he couldn’t be as gorgeous as they say he is.
We bought our usuals – egg rolls and Fresh Yo – then returned to class. After the break, the English language teacher, Miss Adams, came in. She dictated the notes from last week’s topic and gave us an assignment.
After that, we went to the Chemistry lab. I always wondered why Chemistry teachers never came to the class; instead, they asked us to go to the lab.
Everybody had to be careful in the lab because of the apparatus. The slogan “break one, buy two” always rang in our heads.
After Chemistry, we were supposed to have Agricultural science, but the teacher was busy, so she sent us the notes.
*****
“All the girls in this class o,” Tega, one of Kunle’s savage friends called out.
“Who beat you?” Ada asked.
“They say Jerome has dumped his girlfriend, and you’re all happy, right?” The boys started laughing.
Why were they all fussing over this breakup? Give it a rest!
“I know that Elizabeth will hold a special thanksgiving service in her church, mumu child.” Kunle teased again.
I smelled trouble.
“Hey, Kunle, hold it right there! Who are you calling mumu child?” Elizabeth stood up, furious and ready to kill.
I relaxed in my chair, ready to watch the premium Nollywood drama about to unfold. Nothing beats a class quarrel…epic!
“Kunle, watch your mouth,” Shalom, one of the girls in Elizabeth’s gang, stood up to defend her friend.
Who is this one, anyway?
“Human beings are talking. This one put her mouth there,” Uche, another savage backbencher fired, making the class burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Uche, you know I’ve been warning you. Don’t let me slap you.” Shalom said, squinting and glaring, making her look like a constipated goat.
“With what? Is that hand that looks like fragile plastic? Come on, will you sit down!”
“Liz, let me tell you. Jerome is not your type, you’re also not his type. Your type is in the zoo.” Kunle threw the whole class into laughter.
Stephanie stormed to Kunle’s seat and grabbed his shirt. “Are you crazy? Is it because I’ve been keeping quiet since?” She wiped a tear.
Aww…she was crying! I didn’t care though; this was just entertaining for me.
“Aunty, free my shirt jor,” Kunle was already furious.
“Kunle, don’t touch her. You’re a man.” Azeez and some boys tried to stop him.
“I won’t touch her. Tell her to leave my shirt. There’s no light in my house to iron my shirt o.” He started laughing.
The closing bell went off.
“You guys should stop fighting. School has closed.”
Chioma and I were laughing uncontrollably as we packed our books. Nothing, in fact, beats a Nigerian class quarrel!