Finally Some Love

I tend to believe I was a bright student but only through a lot of reading. I rarely had the time to do so but I tried my best. Back in class 5 my performance was excellent since I was reading what I had already done before. The new friends were welcoming and more loving to my surprise. When I came to class swollen from the beatings, they would console me, making me cry even the more.

 It was a blessing in disguise. Now I looked forward to going to school because of the love and embrace I received. 

One day after taking my nephew home over lunch hour, I was late for class as usual and the teacher was not in. I was informed that the class was cancelled. I was relieved knowing that I will rest. I broke down in tears, tears of joy and sadness, tears of being overwhelmed with life and exhaustion. My friends loved on me. Most of the time I never shared much information regarding the swellings and tears, but they would just understand. I was the class prefect and weird as it may seem, a loved prefect. Though I had no mercy on the noise makers, in fact to this day when I meet them they remember how I used to write their names down causing them to be punished.

The best memory I have for this school was this particular year on my birthday. Some of the classmates decided to surprise me. They bought snacks, cards, juice and then they hid behind one of the classes. They had one of them come get me from class. I was clueless so I just followed her. They started singing happy birthday and I just wept uncontrollably. They had plastic cups so they circulated the juice and the snacks. I was made to cut the cake. A packet of sweets was always a must so that I could distribute to the rest of the class. That day was God ordained. It was my 15^th birthday. 

Our class teacher, whom we had both in grade 7 and 8 loved me too, thus being the class prefect. She was so pleasant and loving and I believe the whole class liked her. There was a time she asked us to write a composition (an essay) about what we would like to be when we grew up. As she was sitting in class marking our papers, she came across mine. I had written that I wanted to be a magician and I explained how I would benefit the society. Suddenly, the teacher is laughing her head out until she was in tears. So we all start laughing wondering whose interesting paper was that amusing her. After she gathered her composure, she called me. She could not even look me in the face because she was laughing. I was so serious because I did not find it funny. That was Mrs. Wandulu for us.:-)