THE TEACHER’S FULFILLMENT

With great uncertainty filling my heart that fateful Wednesday morning, I took my carefully weighted steps towards the SS1 class of Community Secondary School, Doho, Gombe State for my first class as a National Youth Service Corps teacher of mathematics. Earlier in the week, my fears of having to teach more than just my traditional Computer Science were confirmed as I was told that I would be having at least five (5) forty minute-classes to teach Mathematics and two (2) forty minute-classes to teach Computer Science to the students in SS1. I took the news in my stride telling myself that I haven’t taken the name “de Prodigy” just for the name’s sake – I mean Math and Computer??? That’s my forte!

So I entered the class and was surprised to see just eight (8) students sitting and waiting for a teacher. Though, truth be told, it was the beginning of a new school term – after the protracted struggle between organized labour and the federal government over fuel subsidy removal, the strike action by organized labour and the eventual negotiations between the two parties – but I was told that the class size would be between fifty and seventy students. That I’d say, was my first shock.

I greeted my students and the stumbled lethargically to their feet and the verbally sound ones among them murmured good morning while the others just stared blankly at me like I’d just walked out of the blackboard. Trying my best not to stutter, I asked them to sit. I introduced myself as the new Math teacher and I had a quick debate in my head on whether to call myself Corper Oladapo, Mr. Oladapo or Mallam Oladapo. “Corper Oladapo” won the debate but I chose to stick with Corper Dapo seeing that it sounded like something that could be easily remembered.

I then ran through the customary introductory procedures and quickly asked the students for their names (which I eventually realized was a waste of time – both mine and theirs – because I had forgotten the name of the first person even before I got to the last person in the class). Meanwhile, the class size had increased to twelve – the additional four students had gone home to have their breakfast (can you believe that!?) – And the only name I would remember was ‘Grace’ (for reasons I couldn’t fathom).

Anyways, then came my second shock. January being the second term in the school session, I picked up my textbook as I was about to start rambling about what I’d prepared, I asked a question. Now, the equation “4 + X = 10” is one that a JSS1 student would be embarrassed to solve but lo and behold, not one person moved when I sought a volunteer to solve it. Then I ventured to ask them where they had stopped the previous term only for Grace (who was slowly becoming my favourite student just because hers was the only name I could remember – I kept on mixing up the rest) to tell me that they had all just registered and this was their first time in SS1. And I thought to myself “where on God’s planet earth were you people?!”

No question I asked managed to elicit an answer from the class and not until then did I realize my predicament. I had to start teaching them from the first chapter in the textbook and cover as much topics in the syllabus as I could in the little time they have as SS1 students. I also realized that my progress would be slowed because I perceived that the intelligence quotient of almost a third of them was on the low side.

So I wrote on the board “INDICES” and told them that was what we would be examining for the next couple of days. I’d reeled off a couple of sentences from the textbook before I searched their faces and saw that none of them understood jack. I had to alter my teaching method and broke down my inefficient grammar to the simplest that I could manage.

Funny enough, after the first forty minutes of my stay in the class, I’d known who the best three students of the twelve were and surprisingly, the first and third were girls (you guessed right, Grace was one of them). This revelation or should I say discovery made me experience an invaluable measure of fulfillment because I felt I had started to integrate myself with the role I was playing. To know that – in a part of Nigeria where most where people of the female gender are relegated to the background and only a fortunate few get to have a shot at the SSCE – in a class of twelve, all five girls collectively showed a higher level of intelligence compared to the seven boys made me feel weirdly elated.

The response I got throughout the time the class lasted also made me want to leave them with something tangible, a legacy of sorts; I felt the need to let them know that once they dedicate themselves to their books, they could become whatever they wanted to. I decided there and then that I’d tell them of the two years I spent in senior secondary school and of how my last math teacher, Mr. Arimoro, contributed in no small measure to making me who I am today.

I hope to do as much for them in ten months as he did for me in nine months so that they wouldn’t forget me just as I would never forget my favourite high school math teacher.

This would, to me, be the highest level of fulfillment; being a tutor, mentor and teacher in the service of my country and fellow countrymen.