In secondary school, my mouth was never the loudest. In fact, I preferred to observe rather than talk. I preferred to stay invisible. While others volunteered for debate, drama, or sports, I was happiest in my own corner with my sketchbook or writing musical lyrics. But somehow, life has a way of dragging even quiet people into the spotlight. Trouble definitely found me; I actually did not see it coming.
I can not actually pick out the exact day of the week, but I still remember the incident as if it were yesterday, and of course, I can never forget the name of our math teacher, Mr. Balogun, and how cool that morning was. That very day, we were having double periods of Mathematics. Mr. Balogun was the type of teacher who believed that fear was the beginning of wisdom. He usually wore oversized glasses and carried a long cane that had no respect for human flesh.
During the second period, as he turned to scribble an equation on the board, I leaned slightly toward my friend Chidi and whispered—not even loudly—"See his trousers. Why are they always shining like engine oil?" I politely whispered.
It was a small, private comment that was meant strictly for Chidi's ears only, but the class had been so quiet that even my gentle whisper carried the comment across the room in an instant.
The class exploded in laughter. Desks rattled, and one boy even fell off his chair. Mr. Balogun turned slowly and immediately raised his cane.
"Who said that?!" Mr. Balogun yelled.
Suddenly, the whole class froze.
Deadly silence.
"Stand up!" he barked.
Thirty bodies of students shot up like soldiers. Nobody wanted to die alone. Mr. Balogun squinted, scanning the class. Then his gaze landed on me—traitorous classmates had already stretched their fingers in my direction.
"You! Come out!" he thundered in furious anger.
My legs suddenly turned to pap as I shuffled forward.
"So, you are the one mocking my trousers?" he asked, his voice trembling with controlled fury.
"Sir, I wasn't..." My voice trailed off, barely above a whisper.
"Oh! A shy comedian! Wonderful. Since you like jokes a lot, you will face the music." he said with a serious expression.
"Eh-heh! Trouble has started," one student muttered.
"Now! She's finished," another student confirmed.
"Stand there and entertain us. Make everybody laugh. You have five minutes. Begin!" he said, pointing his cane to the front of the class, frowning.
"Sir... I... I don't —" I stammered.
"I said... begin!" he yelled, slamming his cane on a desk.
"Shhh... don't say anything," a student whispered to me.
"Ah-ah, see gobe o!" another said quietly.
"Chaiii! Hehehehehe!" yet another student whispered amusingly and let out a soft, sneaky giggle.
The class roared in excitement, erupting in various whispers and numerous giggles.
"My humiliation was about to become a talent show." I thought, still shivering in fear.
I froze. Talking wasn't my thing. I hated standing in front of crowds. But there was no excuse, in fact, no escape.
So, I made up my mind to actually face the music. I took a deep breath.
And started, awkwardly at first.
"Students, walk smart and stop crawling like snails!" I continued with my chest out and stomach in "if you like, collapse on the way, you hear me!" I said, mimicking the way our principal talks and walks with his chest pushed out like a peacock.
"Hahahahahahaha!" The class burst into laughter. Someone even shouted, "Yes, yes, it's true!"
"Lights out means light out... unless you are bait!" I said again, this time imitating the boarding master.
"Hohohohoho! Yeeeeeeh! my stomach ooo!" The students scream with laughter, holding their stomachs. Even Mr. Balogun struggled to keep a straight face.
Now I made the fatal mistake of imitating Mr. Balogun. I tilted my glasses, wagged an imaginary cane, and said, "These trousers are shiny because knowledge is shining on me!" I exclaimed, smiling in full spirit.
"Aaaaahahahahaha! Heeeeee!" The room exploded. Desk shook, and laughter bounced off the walls. A student said, "Gbam! you have finished him!" in between laughter. However, Mr. Balogun's face darkened like thunderclouds.
"Enough!" Mr. Balogun thundered.
The laughter died instantly, and there was sudden silence.
Mr. Balogun's nostrils flared. "And you thought this was funny?!" he exclaimed as he addressed the class in anger.
"No, sir," the class echoed in unison.
Turning to me, he said in a calm fury, "Why are you cracking those jokes so convincingly?" he shot at me.
"Sir! Because you said I should—" I said, confused.
"Silence!" he roared, interrupting my words and immediately pointing his cane at me like a sword. "Since you think you're a comedian, you will perform at the assembly tomorrow morning in front of the whole school," he said, with red eyeballs as if he were already crying internally in secret.
My jaw dropped. "Sir, please..." I pleaded in a soft voice, almost a whisper.
"No excuses. You will face the music." he said, confirming the certainty.
The next morning, the entire school gathered. My name was called. I climbed the stage with trembling feet; my knees were actually knocking like drums.
"Entertain us!" the principal commanded.
So I repeated my act—principal, boarding master, and finally, reluctantly, Mr. Balogun. By then, the hall was in chaos. Even the cooks standing outside peeked in to laugh.
When it ended.
"Wooooooow! Ehhhhhhhhh! Ooooooooohhh!" there were a varieties of deep roaring cheers. The applause was deafening.
"From today, she is the school's drama prefect. Let us clap for her!" the Principal announced to my shock.
"My eyes are on you." Mr. Balogun whispered to me suspiciously, but with a smile, as I walked back to join the assembly.
However, from that day, everyone called me the quiet famous girl because I faced the music and danced with it.
THANKS A LOT FOR READING.
