Whenever the ‘what do you want to become?’ question pops up when we were younger, Doctor, Lawyer, Engineer, and so on filled the air. Compared to today where some of these young ones just want to be fraudsters because school is scam.
Myself wanted to be Surgeon, probably a NeuroSurgeon because I lost a 7-year old sibling to brain tumor when I was 2. I could feel the pain in Mom’s tone whenever she has a reason to share the hurtful experience. The deceased is one of the filial daughters that make their parents happy but death robbed us all of her greatness.
As much as I wanted to be a Surgeon, I did not know mathematics. This coupled with my writing skills that developed at my third year in the Junior secondary school made me lose hope in medicine totally. My Mum persuaded me and even related examples of Doctors that publish books, but I was adamant. I wanted art and humanities instead of science.
This was the beginning of my purpose off-course. All I wanted was to run away from science but I didn’t know what to become with art and humanities.
You are thinking ‘Law’, right? Well, I detest the ‘Lawyer’ profession. This is the result of watching too many Nollywood movies where Lawyers die most times. And it’s not my fault I believed that’s the reality.
Also, in all my thoughts of what I would love to become, writing or teaching never came up. I did not know people make money from writing and teaching was never listed as a high-paying job.
As if the pay wasn’t discouraging enough, the respect given to teachers do not equate the work they do.
Teachers do more than imbibe the knowledge on us, they are in fact our second parents. Their work is more than just marking attendance, they leave mark in our lives.
I did not know teachers had to strive to be exemplars while facing their own life’s struggles and hurdles. When they notice an irregularity, they make efforts to make things straight in our lives.
Needless to add the countless times they try to keep us in check, from noise-making to our school uniforms even to our hairdos. Or times they have to devise ways for us to understand a particular topic and do better in our examinations.
Upon all this efforts, the hair of their monkey do not let us know it sweats. Sometimes, these students still fail. And the teachers get most part of the blame as if they have not done enough.
I did not know the value of my teachers until I started serving as one for my compulsory National Service year. It’s just been five months but I’ve seen a lot.
I will love to continue here but lest I bore you with my too many words, as well as losing interest in the message I want to pass across, I drop my pen.
To the Unsung Heroes,