The dry season of 2018 thrust me into National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). I hated that I couldn’t find a laboratory or research institute to carry out my primary assignment. I had to make do with a school and I didn’t like it. Being a teacher wasn’t part of my agenda. Worst still, I was press ganged into working in a school that was better fit for serving as a village market. The ugliness of the school environment was suffocating. The bland cracked walls with paint peeling off, broken windows and doors pinched my eyes and itched my skin.
My first few months consisted of me showing up only when I had a class and leaving immediately afterwards. My only interaction with the staff was merely courteous greetings whenever I couldn’t avoid not meeting with any of them. It continued like throughout the third term (May to August), until the first term (October to December), when I decided to take teaching seriously and also, try to interact with the staff.
I gradually began to see the myriads of opportunities I’d been blind to earlier; how the students were eager to learn and the staff were friendly. Coming to teach became increasingly interesting and I even began enjoying the lesson plans and note making. I realized not all of my students were good in writing so, we broke down the Continuous assessment (CA) into 3 categories viz:
- Written
- Verbal
- Group quiz.
This made a lot of them improve and a lot became open too. One of the subjects I taught was Basic Science. Puberty was one of the topics that got the the class buzzing. The questions I got on that topic was beyond what I’d ever imagined. It made me realize the need for parents to be more actively involved in the lives of their children. They should break the taboos and myths around sexual and reproductive health by having parent-children conversations because the winds and walls are a repository of knowledge for the children if you know what I mean. So parents should take charge so it doesn’t fall on their children from the wind and behind strange walls.
My heart pounded as I learned that children between the ages of 11-14 were already sexually active. There was a culture of exploitation of their naive minds by so called uncles and aunties. The forbidden fruits were plucked and devoured with relish. It broke my heart that their parents were consciously ignorant of this. I did what I could do to salvage an already broken situation by teaching them the dangers and making them understand that they were being abused and exploited. Some were open to my suggestions and were able to awake their parents from their slumber and confronted the pervs together. Others were hooked on the sweet juices of the raw passion with all its lucre and as such, it was a difficult chain to break.
It was within this period that I experienced something really boggling. I’d heard stories of people being harassed at work but it always seemed like something that happened only in the movies or some far away land until that day I went to sign my monthly clearance letter at the administrative block. The monthly clearance letter was a prerequisite for getting paid the monthly stipends (allawee) from the Federal Government and it was usually signed at a corper’s place of primary assignment to show that he/she was indeed working and doing what was required. As I got into his office, he offered me a seat across the table from him. We exchanged usual pleasantries, but he went further asking about my welfare.
This lead to some round about chit chat after which I presented the clearance letter for signing. He signed it then moved from behind his table and sat on the table directly in front of me to give me back the clearance letter. This was weird and I shifted my chair a bit to create a gap between us, that was when he complimented my looks and stretched his left hands in an attempt to touch my breasts, realizing what he wanted to do, I stood up, stretching my hands to collect the clearance from him. He smiled, that crooked mischievous smile you see in the movies when the villain was about to do something wicked and asked why a big Tiv girl like me was behaving like a small child. Hmmm, to say I was pissed doesn’t even cut it.
You see, there’s this stereotype about Tiv girls being very loose and open to all sorts of sexual activities with every and anybody and I was greatly appalled that a seemingly sane human will accept such an incredulous notion and even have the guts not only to think of it as true but to use that as a premise of trying to harass someone. I didn’t mince words in showing him my disappointment and letting him know how deranged he was for acting the way he did. His blatant disrespect gave me a boldness that got the words tumbling out in torrents. When he saw that trouble will break out because I was already raising my voice, guyman had to kneel down and beg me. He kept saying that my shouting would attract other staff’s attention to his office. When I’d given him a piece of my mind, I collected the clearance letter and left. Since that day, he knew better not to look at me more than necessary and I hope that that encounter had taught him not to abuse the privilege of being in a superior position.
These experiences thought me that parents shouldn’t leave the training of their children to teachers alone, they should instead balance working to provide for the material needs of their children with being actively involved in the upbringing of their children. That anyone can be abused even by seemingly responsible people. The earlier we teach our children to stand up for themselves and be free enough to discuss things with us, the better. We that are grown, especially ladies are at risk of abuse and we should never ever be intimidated by any so called boss. We should instead, be bold enough to recognize abuse for what it is and not condone it in the name of earning a living because the more we condone it, the more we create an enabling environment for abuse to thrive to the detriment of society at large.
PPBlessing 