Kingsley Ukwueze @kingsleysom

Chide, a student in the SS2 class, was known for his infectious positivity and ever-present smile. He was always the first to crack a joke and sprinkle the classroom with light-hearted banter. However, there was one aspect of Chide's persona that everyone found particularly amusing - his love for being called a "politician".

Whenever his friends jovially referred to him as a potential "future president" or "minister in waiting," Chide would beam with pride. He would take on an air of importance, often launching into dramatic speeches about his "political prowess" and his "vision for the future". His classmates soon caught on to the fact that the quickest way to brighten Chide's day was to playfully dub him "Mr. Politician".

But everything changed when it was time to appoint new functionaries from their set. As soon as the announcement was made, Chide's eyes lit up. He believed that he was destined for something significant. With an unwavering confidence, he immediately rushed to apply for the post of senior prefect, eager to assume a position of leadership that would validate his ambitions of being a "politician".

Amid cheers and support from his friends, Chide began his tenure as senior prefect with high hopes and grand ambitions. However, reality quickly caught up with him. The second day into office, Chide developed a ferocious headache from the stress of his new responsibilities. His once energetic strides were replaced by sluggish steps, and his cheery disposition transformed into a pale, worn-out semblance of his former self.

As the days passed, Chide's ailment only worsened. Despite his fervent belief that he could handle the demands of the office better than anyone else, the toll of senior prefect duties took a significant toll on his well-being. It became clear that the role wasn't the glamorous, stress-free position he had envisioned.

On the third day, he stood in front of his fellow students, declaring his decision to step down as senior prefect, citing his health as the primary reason. As he publicly renounced the responsibility he had been so eager to embrace, the students present couldn't help but stifle giggles at the sight of the once proud and confident young man.

I had made the decision early in the morning, convinced that studying from the comfort of my home would yield better results than attending classes or lectures. The promise of uninterrupted quiet and the freedom to control my own study environment was alluring. I envisioned myself with a stack of books, hungrily devouring every word, and conquering the academic hurdles that lay ahead.

But as the reality of the day unfolded, I found myself succumbing to distractions far too easily. The allure of procrastination was strong, and I allowed it to sweep me away on a tide of indulgence. Instead of opening my textbooks, I spent hours engrossed in mindless mobile games, losing track of time with each tap of the screen.

Occasionally, I would convince myself that a break was necessary, a reward for my intention to study. I would engage in mundane tasks such as doing the laundry or tidying up my room, all in the name of productivity. But in truth, I was merely prolonging the inevitable, avoiding the very thing I had set out to accomplish.

The hours slipped away, and before I knew it, the day had come to an end. I was left with a growing sense of disappointment, coupled with fatigue from the mental exhaustion of a day wasted. The opportunity to expand my knowledge, to challenge myself academically, had slipped through my fingers like sand.

As I lay here now, reflecting on the events of the day, I couldn't help but acknowledge the lessons learned.
In fact let tomorrow reach first.
I pray God help me.

It was part of the Cultural and Creative Art (CCA) curriculum; to make an alluring material or object with paper Marsh.
The project required some starch and soft paper shreds or tissue paper.

I pondered on which object my class would find it tasking and perfect to go for.
I was their fun teacher and they all looked up to me. I didn't want to make a regular cup or bowl like the rest of the classes were making, I wanted something different, yet not too difficult or simple.

We started by buying the required amount of starch, which we bought in sachets and tissue rolls.
We started shredding the rolls of tissue paper and some unuseful papers that we got from the classroom shelf.

I ensured that each student partook in the process. Some were shredding the papers, some fetched water, some were doing the pounding while some withdrew the paper paste from the mortar and finally, I did the mixing.

Just when I thought that the starch was enough to stick the paste together, it shattered.
I continued adding the powder until the paste was firm enough.

I started from the structures and positioned the paste with broomsticks to form a solid mold.
It took about 30 minutes for the students to identify what I was molding.
They shouted in astonishment and lured students from other classes.

Something was still mixing. The object stood perfectly but something was missing We figured it out in no time; It was color.

Students must have spread rumors and it must have gotten to the ears of the headmistress because, after break time, she came to see for herself. She praised the artwork and portrayed interest in having the object beautify her table.
I only told her to let it dry.

Long story cut short...
I got a better opportunity than teaching the next week after and I remember inserting the flower vase in a nylon.
Yes! The flower vase is with me now, and I'm starting at it as I write.

Dyspine was a young boy known for boasting excessively and constant mocking of others in his classes. He always found opportunities to insult his teachers, even at the smallest of mistakes, proudly asserting his perfection. As a result, people did not enjoy talking to him or being around him. His arrogant attitude created a negative atmosphere, and he seemed unaware of the effect his words had on others.

However, one fateful day, Dyspine made a mistake that would completely change his perspective. His mistake was exposed in front of the whole school and he became a victim of humiliation and ridicule. The same actions he had previously directed at others are now directed at him. It was a harsh experience for Dyspine, as he went through the mental trauma of badmouthing others. The shame and ridicule he faced served as a boost for change. Dyspine realizes the power and consequences of his words, and for the first time, he truly regrets it. Determined to change himself, he began apologizing to those he had previously insulted. He took responsibility for his past behavior and began actively working to improve himself.

Slowly but surely, Dyspine began to change. He learned the value of compassion and understanding, trying to treat people with kindness and respect. Instead of putting others down, started uplifting and supporting them. His conversations became more positive and meaningful, and those around him noticed the positive change. Dyspine's new personality allowed him to form true friendships and repair damaged relationships. He became someone that others could trust and rely on. Through his own personal growth, Dyspine was able to inspire change in others as well. He encouraged his classmates to think before they speak, fostering a culture of empathy and respect within the school.

My sister had one of the smartphones, among her peers.
A smart device that could display quality videos and amazing pictures, among other countless fascinating things it could do.

She would always send us on errands, make us do her work, and enslave us which we happily accept just so we could get hold of the phone and take pictures, or watch videos while she held it.

On this fateful day, I had gone on an errand for her, and in return, I expected her to reciprocate the deed by giving me her phone to have little fun with, but she didn't. I explained and argued and cried but my strength was wasted by her silence.

After thinking about how to revenge, I concluded that while she slept at night, I would sneak up to her and have the phone for myself for as long as I wanted.

I was awake until I saw her turn to the side and dropped her phone above the bed frame. I allowed her an extra minute to dive deep into sleep and went close. I already grabbed the device when my hand was seized. She hadn't slept yet. She got up and gave me a knock.

I let out a scream, having the phone was not a success yet, and an extra knock too?
A pain to sleep with.
I made sure my cry woke the whole family, the more I remembered how futile my whole plans were and how my plans were shattered, I increased the loudness of my wailing.