Whoop! Sir Luke lashed him the sixth time. Chikà didn’t cry; he was used to receiving lashes from Our Maths teacher.
This time, He failed to submit his project on time.
I despised Sir Luke, as did the rest of us. He derived joy from tormenting us; So it seemed.
He’d always come to lessons with his big cane, which he referred to as: rod of discipline.
He was bald, potbellied, and disheveled; with his tie never settled.
I always wondered if the school ever paid him or only gave him cents.
He lost his wife, and from what I heard, he didn’t have any children. Oh, what a heart wrenching tale. However, he wasn’t deserving of my sympathy.
Did he feel any better making us the victims of his misery? That I can’t say.
Sir Luke wasn’t cut out to be a teacher, he’d be better off caring for horses. I despised him, and I Still Do. He murdered my enthusiasm for Maths and made it a chore.
Chikà returned to sit with me smirking rather sheepishly. It was now an achievement to get lashes from Sir Luke without budging a tear.
He left the class and everyone rained praises on Chikà, “Odéshí, boss, armored tank!”, they exclaimed.
I, for one, was scared of Sir Luke, and made every effort to avoid crossing paths with his rod of discipline. I wasn’t lashed often like a number of other students in the class. I despised the way he made learning seem more like a terrifying experience than a fun one. I despised the way he crookedly smiled every time he used his cane.
It occurred to me that he was more pleased with the feat than with the duty of passing on knowledge.
Wednesday, June 14th, 2017.
It was our weekly Sports Day, and we had completed the day’s Sports activities and were ready to return to class for the next tutor. Maths was always held after sports, and today was no exception, as Sir Luke rarely missed his session. He entered the classroom and stare at us with his cane in his right hand, held as if it was his life support.
We were all deafeningly silent; no one moved a muscle.
He then proceeded to write a Maths problem on the antiquated black board that was affixed to the wall.
“Topé!, Come out and help the class solve this problem” he stated. Topé wasn’t the brightest student in the class, but she wasn’t a dummy either.
She stood up and went to the board, where she took a chalk from Sir Luke and began to solve the issue.
I noticed her hand shiver as she scribbled down the solutions. However, she made an error, and Sir Luke swiftly whipped her, causing an outcry.
Topé sagged to the ground.
Sir Luke was immediately paralyzed with terror.
Topé was dead.
We quickly gathered Sir Luke and pounced on him; Undeniably my best moment filled with excess joy. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t happy that happened to Topé.
The principal arrived in a matter of seconds to put an end to the uproar. Tope’s parents arrived at the school few hours later, along with the cops, carrying Tope’s body. They stated that Topé wasn’t sick away from home, that she was fine, and that her death couldn’t have been an accident.
Sir Luke pleaded for Compassion.
Topé’s mom was fixated on the corner, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Sir Luke was arrested and would spend the remainder of his sad life behind bars. That’s a day I’ll never forget.