THE NEW COMER IN MY CLASS
I was teaching Literature when Ebube Musheme came into the class. Ebube was the most hunky student I had ever seen. He was tall and fat simultaneously like someone who had carried weight all through his life. Ebube’s voice alone could make a timorous student cry and make an elderly person run helter skelter. Ebube’s chests were bouncy and hefty. I always thought I was huge but Ebube proved that thought wrong.
When he came into the class, I thought he was a teacher and I started introducing him to all the seated students. As I told him to go to the staff room to greet the remaining teachers, he laughed tauntingly and said, ” I am a student sir. Where should I sit?”
I never believed Ebube was a student till he showed me his books and materials. I ordered him to sit at the back, since the front space had been occupied, and I continued my teaching. The next thing that happened was that, one of the students sitting at the back raised his hand. I thought he wanted to ask questions not knowing he wanted to report. He said, “Uncle, Ebube broke my pen.” I wondered how could a 10 mins new comer commit such atrocity. I kept the little boy shut, ignored his report then continued with my teaching. Another girl raised her hand from the back seat.
“Yes, any questions?”, I asked. ” Sir, Ebube stepped on me intentionally,” she said.
That time around, I was vexed. I
commanded Ebube to stand then I said, ‘Ebu! Eb! Ebube, what happened nah? You should respect yourself o. Why are you troubling them?’
‘No mind them Jare, they no wan no play. I go give them slap now if they report again’, Ebube said with a masculine voice.
‘If they report you again, I may be forced to discipline you, too. Is that understood?’ I said annoyingly.
‘Uncle, shey you dey whine me ni? Nah you wan beat me abi? Let’s see. If they born them well, may them report,’ Ebube said disrespectedly. I was afraid deep within me. I did as if I didn’t hear what Ebube said even though other students exclaimed; ‘Ah! Uncle, don’t you hear him?’
My prayer was that, no students should report him again till I finished my Literature class and get out. As I was
rushing my lectures, a stupid boy whose name I still remember, Ibrahim, raised his hand from the back.
‘Uncleeeee! Ebube poured ink on my new school uniform. My mummy will kill me.’ Pa! Pa! Ebube lashed him slaps. Glasses fell from my eyes, piece of chalk thrown down, then I moved closer to Ebube with fears in my heart, I successfully returned the two slaps. Ebube came out of the tightened chair, his eyes reddened with revenge, drew nearer to me, sniffed in terror, then….