MY PRIMARY SCHOOL DAYS - PHASE ONE00

Literarily am not writing this post to talk about myself but in remembrance of my late father Mr. Olalere Joseph a man of Honour, Humble, kind and Gentle. My father a man of many people a generous man by nature he taught me something I will never forget; he will call on me and order me to sit beside him and says my boy always be yourself. I pray may his soul rest in peace.
Growing up in the rural areas is more effective for a brilliant young and tender fellow like me most especially in a village like ours where I grew up.
Sometimes people will say the city children are more brilliant than the villagers yes I agreed but mind you the village children are also brilliant but only suffer the social amenities which could be of help to our developing state in one way or the other, why not if I have the opportunity then am rating myself to be one of the best student in our country Nigeria. My growing up then wasn't that horrible nor bad and not too good to be sincere, I first attended a nursery school,kings and queens nursery and primary school this school was owned by a Liberian man called Mr. Denis, been a Liberian man that attracts lots of parents withdrawing their children from their former school to a private school hoping to secure a sound education for children in the village.

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Gradually I begin to improve in the differentiation of objects in the English language more so The daily routine of our topic then the A for Apple poem then Two-letter words spellings, as a kid in the village if you are able to read all that nicely you are definitely a brilliant child at that little age. Becoming that exactly makes me more excited believing in my dream hooping I will be this and that in nearest future I can't even imagine how far it will come, my parents both take good care of me as a little and ambitious boy, i could remember before i woke in the morning my hot tea is already on the small table beside my bed, my parents love was so much that I never think of missing any of both for a seconds, my father will carry me to school on his neck singing and praying for me, getting to school he'd drop me sometimes on the assembly ground and wave his hand to me saying goodbye for now.
I was in nursery four(4) when an incident came up and overshadow my dream of becoming a one of graduating students of that school, my father as an Educated person he always want to be proud of me then at the level of his occupation he's famer I guess a big reason while I was first registered at a private school owned by a Liberian man as said earlier, having no other hope of avoiding my school fees but to be withdrawn from private school to a public where I can't even think of setting my standard of being a brilliant boy due to the population in the public, as time goes on I begin to adapt to public ways of learning even with kinds of teachers they possess as they teach in Yoruba dialect that is suck it give me a headache comparing a private and public school.
Not long enough my father got a teaching job in my very school and surprisingly to me he's my class teacher then I became more serious than ever before, I got no time for myself to play with my friends in the break time or after closing hour for me playing around the street he prefer me following him to farm.
I noticed changes soon as my father became my teacher irrespective of him being among my teachers and the fear of being my biological father he will always flog me for coming late to school regardless of our house facing the school "yes why won't I come late to school " after involving myself in all the domestic work in the house every morning, I'd work some miles down the stream just fetch water to get my bath before going to school not a minutes left out for out for breakfast rushing to school ill still meet my father at the gate waiting for the latecomers on sighting him i already know i can't escape it but to be cained.