"Miss Maggie, you a fresh-lookin' girl. [About 5 minutes later:] You know you're my favorite teacher, right?"
That's from one of my 6th-grade students. A male. Obviously.
"Miss Thomas, today is the last time you will see me. I'm moving back to South Africa tomorrow. Thank you, Miss Thomas."
A different 6th grade student. Energetic and full of life, his absence will definitely send shockwaves through our classroom.
"Everybody shout big hawewuyah."
This is from the 2-year-old son of a colleague, whose father, not surprisingly, is a pastor.
And finally, this memo, received just minutes before our early release (11am):
"To: All Staff
From: Mrs. O
Re: Security Alert
Don't read this loud of leave it where students will see. Also don't show signs of panic.
Today is Armed Forces Remembrance Day and there is a big gathering at Eagle Square. Roads to that venue blocked from all directions. Also some unrest over the political situation. Also avoid going near the central Mosque, mosque at Maitama & the one near Banex. Some protesters are there.
Lastly, be extra alert in case we need to do lock down or safe haven, and be sure all students are picked from their classrooms at 11:00 a.m. None are to be found in the hallways. Thanks."
It should be noted that I am safe here in the school, working on lesson plans. All my students have left securely with their drivers, and the one who takes a taxi to and from school has a safe route to her house. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened here, and yet it's the first time the Nigerian-ness of Nigeria has intruded on my everyday life. It's a weird feeling, but I'm thankful for my continued safety.
9 years ago
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