I can still remember the dusty chalkboards of my secondary school (high school as most people will call it)l. It was rare before you would see it without diagrams and sketches of different kinds.
My secondary school was the kind that believed in making good use of time and serious studies, so there were barely any free periods for students except for the fifteen-minute lunch break. As long as it was a school day, students were expected to be busy.
But this particular session, being busy wasn't for me. Not like someone made the rule, but I made the rule for me. While teachers' voices drowned us with everything from mathematical equations to literature to government studies. I'd sit at the back, barely concentrating, and tapping my pen on my desk.
Simply because I was the smartest one in class for over years. Always coming out at the top of the class.
The teachers praised me, and my fellow students envied me so much that it got to my head, and I felt I was above studying. Because even if I didn't, I always was top of the class. My pride had me to my marrows that I didn't bother about reading again.
Even with exams fast approaching and everyone trying so hard to fill up their assessments. The library was filled with students who had their faces buried in their books. But I will be busy scrolling on social media in my little Nokia 2110, which I got as a gift from my big sister for being at the top of my class. I was sure I could handle whatever questions that would be given on the exam day or so my pride had me thinking.
I recall my mum being bothered about my nonchalant attitude one evening as my brothers studied at the dining table.
"Marriott, your brothers are studying, and you're not," she said.
"I know", I replied, eyes stuck on the Henry Danger series playing on TV.
"What do you mean by you know, and you're still sitting down? Switch off that TV and go read your books!" she shouted.
Grumpily, I switched off the TV and made for my school bag. With a little effort into cramming a few topics and subjects, I dozed off at the dining table.
Wasn't long before my pride dealt with me. It was during exams. Each exam day, as I sat in the exam hall, I'd stare at questions and they would look alien to me even though I was sure I had them written on my notebooks and it was also taught in class. Sweats and confusion became my companions in the hall.
By now, I was regretting not studying, and no matter how I tried to read the night before for the next day's exam. My efforts were useless because I had just limited time to study.
A week later, I stood at the door to my house, staring at the result sheet I had in my hands. My name didn't make the first ten of the class. I felt bad for myself, my pride brought me shame. I didn't know how to present such a result to my parents.
I regretted counting my chickens before they hatched.
I can vividly remember my dad saying in a calm voice.
"You made your bed with pride, and you've laid in it. Brilliance without effort is useless, son. Always remember that".
