PUNCH
I was in Primary 4 and about 9 years old when I called my teacher a thief without knowing what I did. One interesting thing about my Primary-4 era, which used to be called Elementary 4, was that it was in that class that my academic transformation started. I first achieved a position that was less than two digits in Primary 4: I came 8th! I used to be a “centrist”, calmly maintaining a position between 15th and 20th in a class of about 30 to 35 pupils.
By the second term, I took the third position, which was unprecedented. One or two voices sneered that the reason was because our teacher was my parents’ tenant. By the third term, I came second and the story about our teacher being our tenant persisted. It annoyed me. But I kept my cool. When we moved over to Elementary 5, I came first. I couldn’t believe it. Our teacher was no longer our tenant; so nobody could belittle the feat anymore. And I kept on with that first position.
Before Primary 4, my story was completely different. On the last day of school when the positions were being announced, I knew first to third positions were not for me. But I dreaded ever being called among the last three positions in class. As long as I was not called among the three bottom positions, described as those who prepared a head ring (ajụ́) and used it to carry the entire class on their head, I was not bothered.
Between Primary 1 and 3, I didn’t know that schoolbooks were meant to be read after school. I thought schoolbooks were only meant to be opened in school, while the home was for playing and other things. If there was an assignment (called homework), I would do it with the help of my mother or any adult around, if it was too hard for me to do on my own. But if there was no homework, wherever I dropped my schoolbag was where it would be till the next school day.
There was so much play to engage in for one to sit down after school reading books. Football in the street or field was never enough. Testing our marksmanship with our catapults on birds and lizards was more fun. Swimming in a stream, riding our motorcycle wheels, or flying our kites was more interesting.
I thought that the top three positions in class were meant for the children of teachers, priests, civil servants and the like. My parents did not study beyond the elementary level. They were both in self-employment.;
In Primary 4, I once read some stories in our English textbook Day by Day and enjoyed them. Somehow, I began to read the stories ahead of the class discussion on them. One of the comprehension stories I read was “The Stranger in the Village.” A man had arrived in a village where integrity was the watchword. Owners of goods would leave them in the market with some pebbles beside them to signify their prices but with no human beings to monitor the sale. Buyers would place their money beside the needed goods and take the goods away. In the evening, the villagers would come to the market to take their unsold goods as well as any money left behind by buyers.
The stranger found the arrangement unwise. When he was certain that nobody was watching, he took as many goods and money as he wanted and left. It was shocking to the villagers as they had never experienced such before. They complained to their king. The next day, the stranger came again and took things away. The king then decided to send some guards to watch and see if they could find who was bringing dishonesty into their village. The stranger came again as usual and grabbed some items, but he was nabbed.
I liked the story. It stuck in my mind. I couldn’t wait for it to be taught in class. Then the day came for the exercise to be read in class. Miss Victoria said: “Our exercise for today is The Stranger in the Village. Before we read the story, who can tell us who is a stranger?”
My hand shot up with excitement. My excitement must have been infectious. Miss Victoria asked me to answer it.
I stood up with confidence and blurted out with magisterial finality: “A stranger is a thief.” I expected her to tell the class to shower me with my well-deserved round of applause.
But rather than the applause, I got a dismissive comment. I sat down in shock, wondering what my crime was. I was sure of my answer. The stranger in the story stole things and was caught. What was wrong with my answer?
The teacher went ahead and explained to us the meaning of a stranger as someone new to a place or a visitor or foreigner in a place. That was when I realised the import of my ignorant answer. Miss Victoria was not from Nnewi; so she was a stranger! What did I just call my teacher?
It may be surprising to some people that Primary 4 pupils, who were between nine and 12, did not know the meaning of “stranger.” But some factors made it possible. The first was that we were growing up in a semi-urban community where Igbo was the main language of communication and instruction. In addition, very few people had television sets. There was no public electricity then in Nnewi. Only very few families who owned generators had TV sets. What was popular was radio because it was cheap to buy and could be powered with alkaline batteries.
But most importantly, our vocabulary was extremely limited. Until my Primary 5 when I read My Book of Bible Stories, I had not read a single book that was not my class book. After that, I read no other external book until after my Primary 6 when I read some children’s novels. My elder brother had given me some novels, including Animal Farm, after my Primary 6 (when I was 12 years old). I tried repeatedly to read Animal Farm but could not go beyond page 2.
Ironically, when my children were in Primary 4 and around eight years old, I gave them the same Animal Farm and they read it in full and understood it. The difference was that my vocabulary was extremely anaemic while theirs was robust. We provided novels and different types of books to them from an early stage. We gave them access to cable TV and videos early in life. They began to speak English and Igbo right from when they began to talk. If they read or heard words they didn’t understand, we were well educated to explain those words to them.
That contrasted with my childhood. But when my reading culture changed drastically in secondary school, my vocabulary grew exponentially. Beyond understanding the meaning of many words, I knew several synonyms of words, including words I have never had any need to use in my life.
The effect was that my confidence received a huge boost. From being a person who was afraid to speak before people, I became a person who is never afraid of being handed the microphone without any prior notice to speak in public.
The interesting part is that this is not peculiar to me or my circumstances. It is a time-tested principle that works for anybody. The more you read, the better your vocabulary, your grammar, your writing skills, speaking skills, knowledge base, and confidence. And unlike me, you won’t have to innocently call your teacher a thief.
THIS ARTICLE FIRST APPEARED IN PUNCH
