Doing Your Best

Halos y’all, this morning I’m posting a writ by a friend. She asked me to review it and I’ve taken the liberty of sharing it. Hope y’all will like it, here goes…

As I dozed off, I could hear a soft soothing voice from a distance, it reminded me of the early morning’s bird call. Soon, it got less soothing…

It was already too late, when I realised it was Mr Ajala’s voice, (my further mathematics teacher). Immediately, I stood at attention, awaiting my punishment. He beckoned that I should come to the front of the class. With heavy feet, and hung head, I walked to the front of the class. Ashamed.

I heard the murmurs and whispers on my left and right, all flooding my head. At a corner of my mind, I blamed everything on the heavy breakfast I had that morning (bread and beans).

His face was stern, as stern like a father who caught his child stealing meat from the stew pot, he had a deathly scowl. He picked up a chalk and wrote on the blackboard, ‘solve this’, 2x + 5y=9b(3b-3a) he said, simply.

My eyes almost popped out of my orbital cavity. I collected the chalk from him and began to write, as I wrote, thoughts of my life began coursing through my brain. I could imagine the pain my buttocks would go through. I could actually feel the welts on my buttocks, I continued writing, it was all I could do to not check to see if there were mounds made by the cane on my behind.

I imagined the laughters and mockery that would follow, stemming from my screams and shouts as the pain sank in. My knuckles turned white as my grip got tighter on the chalk. I felt dampness in my palms. I was nauseated and motions were already moving in my bowels.

I dared to look back at my friends, to see if I could get an inspiration or a clue to the answer from any of them. All I could see was a mixture of fear and anticipation on their faces, I stared back at the blackboard, blank for a long time. Pausing. Waiting for inspiration to complete the task at hand.

Then I started writing and solving the algebra, like a handwriting on the wall, I saw it clearly, written boldly was the phrase ‘do your best and leave the rest for God’.

After about 3 minutes of solving, I dropped the chalk and stared at Mr Ajala’s, whose face was still devoid of expression. As an accused thief stares at the judge’s, waiting, expecting an olive branch. A verdict of life, instead of death, I stood there petrified.

Defiant, I summoned the courage to finally address him as it appeared the man was content to just stare… ‘I did my best sir, I hope it was enough’?

He just stood there lost in thought, I didn’t know whether to rush him or to pat his back. Apparently, I had scored the algebra. Don’t ask me how I did it, I have since forgotten the solution. I started for my seat at the middle of the class after dropping the chalk on his table, a new found spunk in my stride, I was feeling like a boss!

‘Seun Alakija.

Do drop your thoughts and encourage this new writer 🙂


5 thoughts on “Doing Your Best

  1. i wonder where dat handwriting came from….need an handwriting on my sheet in my next exam….daireen u dig???i must not fail oooooo…Seun Alakija WINK WINK

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