Lest we Forget
I walked into the std 4 classroom obviously looking lost. I walked towards the teacher at the front since there was a lesson going on and introduced myself. He pointed to an empty desk in the middle of the classroom and asked me to settle in there and that he will sort me out later. I sat down took my book and blended in.It was going to be a new journey altogether.
Days went by, I made friends some of who were to be my friends for the rest of my life.I knew my way around the school. I got myself admirers and haters in equal measure. I became part of the school and owned the fact.
Needless to say, my favourite subject was English. I remember my mum who also happens to be an English teacher making me read "little red fox and the lorry". I can't quite remember the title of the book but I remember red fox was the reason I got canned repeatedly until I couldn't take my supper. If you have a teacher for a parent you know what I mean. They just don't play around with books and anything to do with education.
My compositions were good.My assignments in English always came back in good grades so were the exams and CAT's. I wasn't going to dissapoint big momma. She wanted the best for me and yes she also wanted to boast about her sons grades to her colleagues.
It didn't take long before the class teacher got to recognize me. I would answer all the questions while my classmates looked at me in jest. My work woul be used as an example. I would read out my compositions to the rest of the class. I had all the English books. My desk literally became a library. I had story books, encyclopaedia, text books, magazines, newspapers and most importantly a dictionary.
Mr Ong'onga was a laid back kind of person. He had his principles, he was firm and he wouldn't take jokes from anyone. In as much as he watched over his class with an iron fist. He was the love of many. He was our class teacher and also doubled up as our English teacher, one who would fill the blackboard with notes for class 5 children, such commitment.
This guy believed in me. He made me look at myself in a different light. He filed every piece of writing I had. He corrected all my essays painstakingly. He made sure I never repeated grammatical errors. He worked on my knuckles until I had a handwriting. He pushed me too much. He always told me "I see the potential in you, one day you will have a column in the newspaper and I will be proud of you."
In a sad occurrence of event's Mr Ongonga passed on before I got to finish primary school. The news of his demise got the entire school by surprise. We had lost one of the best. I had lost someone I looked up to. I had lost a mentor. I had lost that someone that truly believed in me.
Hi Sir, I know am not a columnist yet but am working my way there. I know you might not be here to read my work anymore but I know wherever you are you are happy of the good work you started in me. You believed in me and now its time I showed you I believe in myself. You saw the best in me you believed in me and encouraged me. I know we would be the best of friends if you were still here. I will keep up the good work, I will encourage others through my work just as you did.
Rest in Power Sir, I still believe in you.
Days went by, I made friends some of who were to be my friends for the rest of my life.I knew my way around the school. I got myself admirers and haters in equal measure. I became part of the school and owned the fact.
Needless to say, my favourite subject was English. I remember my mum who also happens to be an English teacher making me read "little red fox and the lorry". I can't quite remember the title of the book but I remember red fox was the reason I got canned repeatedly until I couldn't take my supper. If you have a teacher for a parent you know what I mean. They just don't play around with books and anything to do with education.
My compositions were good.My assignments in English always came back in good grades so were the exams and CAT's. I wasn't going to dissapoint big momma. She wanted the best for me and yes she also wanted to boast about her sons grades to her colleagues.
It didn't take long before the class teacher got to recognize me. I would answer all the questions while my classmates looked at me in jest. My work woul be used as an example. I would read out my compositions to the rest of the class. I had all the English books. My desk literally became a library. I had story books, encyclopaedia, text books, magazines, newspapers and most importantly a dictionary.
Mr Ong'onga was a laid back kind of person. He had his principles, he was firm and he wouldn't take jokes from anyone. In as much as he watched over his class with an iron fist. He was the love of many. He was our class teacher and also doubled up as our English teacher, one who would fill the blackboard with notes for class 5 children, such commitment.
This guy believed in me. He made me look at myself in a different light. He filed every piece of writing I had. He corrected all my essays painstakingly. He made sure I never repeated grammatical errors. He worked on my knuckles until I had a handwriting. He pushed me too much. He always told me "I see the potential in you, one day you will have a column in the newspaper and I will be proud of you."
In a sad occurrence of event's Mr Ongonga passed on before I got to finish primary school. The news of his demise got the entire school by surprise. We had lost one of the best. I had lost someone I looked up to. I had lost a mentor. I had lost that someone that truly believed in me.
Hi Sir, I know am not a columnist yet but am working my way there. I know you might not be here to read my work anymore but I know wherever you are you are happy of the good work you started in me. You believed in me and now its time I showed you I believe in myself. You saw the best in me you believed in me and encouraged me. I know we would be the best of friends if you were still here. I will keep up the good work, I will encourage others through my work just as you did.
Rest in Power Sir, I still believe in you.
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