The first thing the woman said to me that morning was “Sara.” I remember it because of how strangely ordinary it sounded, because her tone was condescending and harsh. It was just after 8:00 a.m. at one of those expensive private schools in Lagos where everything had to be perfect . The buildings were spotless, the lawns were trimmed, the classrooms had air conditioning and every child seemed to have a backpack that probably cost more than my yearly salary.
I had barely finished arranging the children's books in the common room when one of the attendants came to tell me that a parent wanted to see me. When I walked into the common room, the woman was standing near the entrance. She looked like she was in a hurry, her clothes screamed wealth, she was probably wearing my 5 year salary and she looked me straight in the eyes and said:
“ Miss Sara.”
“Good morning, ma.”
“My three-year-old daughter lost her bracelet.”
I blinked and in my mind i was like what does this have to do with me.
“She wore it to school yesterday and when she got home she couldn't find it. I'll be back to pick her by 2 p.m. Please find the bracelet” and before I could even respond, she walked away.
I stood there completely flabbergasted. For a few seconds, I wondered if I had misunderstood her, a bracelet. Not a missing child, not an accident and not an issue with another student, a bracelet!!!!!!
I looked at the clock, it was 8:07 a.m, I sighed and went back to my classroom.
My name is Sara Adeyemi, and at the time I was a teacher at one of the most prestigious private British schools in Lagos. Teaching three year-olds sounds easy until you actually do it. Children that age can turn a perfectly organised classroom into a disaster area in less than five minutes. They cry because somebody touched their pencil. They fight over toys they weren't playing with two minutes earlier. They forget where they left their shoes and somehow remember exactly who took their biscuit and now I had to become a detective.
I started by asking the children, “does anyone remember seeing Amara's bracelet yesterday?” Nobody answered. I checked the classroom, under the tables, inside the toy boxes. Behind the shelves. I checked the playground and the little reading corner where the children sometimes sat during break. Nothing, i asked the cleaners, I asked the teaching assistants and all Nothing. I even checked the lost-and-found cupboard, still nothing.
By noon, I had almost convinced myself that the bracelet had probably been lost somewhere between the school gate and the car park. Then, while I was discussing the matter with another teacher, Mrs. Grace, something suddenly occurred to her.
“Wait,” she said.
“What?”
“I think I saw Amara yesterday.”
“When?”
“After school.”
I looked at her.
“What about her?”
“She was wearing the bracelet.”
I stared at her.
“You're sure?”
“I’m not entirely sure to be honest.”
My heart sank!. At exactly 2 p.m., the mother returned. She walked into the common room with the same hurried expression she had worn that morning, i heart was about to explode, it was beating so fast, because such an accusation could result in me losing my job and in this economy, where would i even start.
“Miss Sara.”
“Yes, ma?”
“My daughter's bracelet is still missing.” I could hear the irritation in her voice.
“I have looked everywhere. I have asked everyone. We cannot find—”
She stopped.
Then her expression changed.
“I am sorry, but this is unacceptable. My daughter came home with it yesterday, and now it is gone. I need to know what happened here.” She was beginning to raise her voice.
I understood her frustration. To her, something had happened to her daughter's property at school, and somebody was responsible., but before she could continue, I looked at Mrs. Grace. “Ma,” I said calmly, “Mrs. Grace remembers seeing Amara wearing the bracelet when she entered your car yesterday.”
The woman's expression changed.
“What?”
“She said she saw it on her wrist as you were putting her inside the car.”
Then the mother looked toward the car park.
“Let me check the car.” She said
We followed her outside, she opened the back door and she checked beneath the seat and their was nothing. Then she reached between the child seat and the door. Her hand stopped and she pulled something out, the pink bracelet. There was complete silence and without even apologizing or anything the woman just took her child, got in the car and zoomed off. For the second time that day i was flabbergasted.
I went back into my classroom and looked at the children playing on the floor, for them, it was just another ordinary afternoon and in that moment i was so envious of their innocence and not having to deal with the struggles of adulthood. I just walked into the bathroom and cried. I cleaned my tears walked out and continued with my day.
Image is A.I generated