The first job I got was teaching in 1980 after my successful secondary education at Rev. Kuti Memorial Grams, Abeokuta in 1979. (Pls go and verify. I went to primary school, Methodist E9, Oke Adu, Ibadan & Rev. Kuti).
I taught for just three months at AC Pry School Oko located by the roadside between Owode Egba - Ofada villages. My best student was Tajudeen Sadiku, a dark, shy, calm and gentle son of a poor farmer. I still long to see this brilliant boy, I hope he's still alive, hail, healthy and successful.
Two other brilliant pupils I can still recollect were Azeez and Wemimo, a girl, but they were never in competition with Taju who always scored the highest marks in all subjects. Taju's classmates voluntarily surrendered the academic leadership of the class to him. My best friend was Azeez, a sharp, funny boy who almost made my table an extension of his wooden desk, always disturbing me with the familiar "Eskisa" "Eskisa" to draw attention to himself and activities going on in the classroom and during break time.
I loved my pupils and they loved me too. When I returned to school after two days of absence, the moment they sighted me alighting from the wooden lorry, all of them suddenly left the class with jubilation to come and welcome me while my co-teacher and friend who stood in for me was teaching them. I was pleasantly surprised by their excitement to see me back – "Eskisa, E kabo sir" touching me, having a handshake with me, prostrating and kneeling down.
I had to apologise on their behalf to my friend and the headmaster who felt their action of trooping out to welcome me while class was on was an act of indiscipline.
Well, the action of these primary four pupils was understandable. I was not a good and professional teacher in the conventional sense. I spoilt them with sweets, biscuits, and bananas and at times with little money when they behaved well and brilliantly in the class. I didn't use a cane throughout my three months of teaching but I punished anyone who misbehaved with the usual "stand up, raise up your hands and close your eyes" exercise. I considered them too tender to be beaten with the cane. I'm emotionally weak to see people crying, more so these poor shoeless kids living in the worst of conditions.
As an Abeokuta city boy of 19, the rural life of Kori Oko village was harsh and strange to me but my pupils and co-teachers like Adefulu whom I always shared palm wine with at the village "Abete" made it interesting. The Baale of my village residence loved me so much, he was my palm wine mate too. The villagers were simple and very hard-working peasant farmers, hunters, and traders.
It took some time before I got used to their "too much respect and adoration" of me like a village god. The nights I joined them, out of curiosity, to celebrate Oro festival, and the rite of passage for the late "Oluode" (head of hunters) were the days to remember. They were shocked but extremely happy that I joined them in the cultural rite and the bond of love became stronger.
I must confess that the attraction to come to the village to teach as "Tisa Oko" (TO) instead of other jobs available in Abeokuta was the enticing tale of rural life of palm wine, bushmeat and fresh farm food, not because of my love for teaching really. It was when I got there that my pupils and villagers with their state of existence became a better attraction for me.
There were two things I didn't really like in the short period of my teaching experience. First was "lesson note" writing, regimentation. The very conservative headmaster was always complaining about my inadequacy in it. The same complaints were made about two other new colleagues since we were untrained.
My other dislike was the "Misterisation of my name". The first time our headmaster called me "Mr. Soetan" when I presented my letter to him, I was shocked because nobody had ever called me Mr. before in my life. Other teachers except for Adefulu, my friend and palm wine mate, also started calling Mr. Mr. Mr. and I reluctantly joined in the Misterisation of people's names. Mr. Mr. Mr. was a burden I had to carry for the short duration of my teaching experience as Tisa Oko – Village Teacher.
Teachers teach Life. The standard of any nation can be measured by the quality of its teaching professionals.
Happy Teachers' Day.
Adeola Soetan