My last days at school were pretty much fun, depends on if you consider writing your last two papers with one eye since the other got punctured, well not really like burst or anything but it was rendered useless.

But in comparison to my first days the last ones were pretty much better.

My first semester was the period time when I was willing to go twenty-three straight hours reading (my first at that time) for a Trigonometry and Analytical Geometry Mathematics that I knew nothing about. After the one hour sleep break I had, I woke up and my brain was as blank as a new born’s.

The only reason I went for that exam was that i had the notion that if I was going to carry the course over I was going to do it with pride and dignity. It was after my first semester results that I came to a conclusion that school wasn’t meant for me. It’s not that I failed woefully ó but then it wasn’t up to my expectations. I was hell bent on making a distinction but then ended up with an Upper or what you might know as a Second Class.

I almost gave up on God.

But to be fair, it wasn’t really my fault. I mean there was this lecturer who had earlier told us of the questions he planned to set for the exams and had said for a particular question he was expecting up to five different definitions for a full mark of 5, like just five marks out of 75 I needed to make an A.

Like what the fuck, with everything that was going on in my life back then, I was being expected to memorize five different definitions for a full mark of five and it didn’t end there, we were expected to state the name of the individuals who proposed these definitions and the year in which the definitions were published.

Like who asks such?

You’d think that was the height it all, until you had to take a course wherein all you were going to be doing was punch in series of commands, we were all coaxed into buying a 500+ page “Linux Bible” which was of course a duplicate of a PDF on the course that was floating all over Google’s search results, then we had to sit through a lecture where the man came in and taught topics that were entirely out of the textbook and off the course outline. We ended up buy three (one) gigabyte hard disks drive for a practical we still haven’t done. 

I mean there were certainly good times in school, it wasn’t really always sour. Like when a young new age lecturer tried to introduce us to the modern-day form of lecturing. He had us submitting our assignments via links on a Google spreadsheet. I don’t think he finished grading the second assignments before he got frustrated by the entire process. Bàbá wanted us to be having a video conference kinda class on a school Wi-Fi that was worse than Glo’s network.

Then there was the one that didn’t know anything, like mentioned in the previous post, he’d come into the class to teach and even to replicate what was written by him in his own textbook on the board was problematic for him. He’d end up confusing himself, some genius students in the class who’d try to help and the rest of us who didn’t even know him Jack before. All this man was ever good at was carrying bag of rice that seemed to be distributed more frequently than was necessary among the lecturing staffs. 

I can’t forget my forget my Beginner’s Guide To Programming lecturer tho, woman was awesome, she made me fall in love with programming (keep in mind that it was Q Basic we were writing in then, I know right? and a little bit of Visual basics) until I met my C lecturer (the theory lecturer, not the practical man) man was good but then made me realize programming wasn’t a child’s play. The straw that broke the camel’s back for me was my Fortran lecturer, OMG, that’s another story I don’t want to divulge into.

Considering I was ready to do a twenty three hour marathon back in year one, it’s safe to say my last days in school were better than the beginning. I had more fun, lived life to the fullest, participated in loads of extra circular activities, paid lesser attention in classes, did fewer assignments myself (dubbed or photocopied most) bought fewer textbooks (photocopied most) had lesser night classes and went into my calculus exams with no worries (not because I knew what I was going to write but I had seen worse and wasn’t to be surprised again).

My resolve went quickly from wanting to graduate with a first class to just surviving the school year with no extra one.

These are memories that were not fun, not for once but memories that I will forever cherish and hold dear to my heart.

Comments

comments

Leave a Reply