Okay, let me tell you about the only time I regretted not having a father. Brace yourself, this is about to be a super duper loooooooong letter. I am virtually taking you with me to relive a moment from the past. Lol.
I was entering my second year of high school, anticipating meeting my friends, and as soon as I hugged and acknowledged all my fellow classmates, I attended the first class, and the teacher did not call my name, which was strange. They told me that I was not part of that class, that I was probably moved to another one. I was gutted and felt that this was unfair, that out of all the students from the previous year, I was the only one who had been transferred, plus I couldn't see my two best friends regularly.
Now, it is important to note that my personality was very different from what it is now. Let’s call it Me version 1.0, extremely timid, afraid of raising my voice, unable to ask for help from outsiders, very innocent, basically a total pushover/muppet.
So I quietly went and joined my new class. The next day brought my unfortunate encounter with my tormentor, a.k.a. the teacher from hell, let’s call her Ms. Aicha, that is not her real name.
So I joined the class, we all settled down, and Ms. Aicha read from her attendance list the name of each student. They each responded with “present,” and in turn she quickly ticked a box on her sheet. When she read out my name, I said “present.” She stopped, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the room fall silent. In a dry, emotionless tone, she said, “GET OUT OF MY CLASS!”
I was flustered. I felt humiliated, and I lost my voice. All I managed to do was gather my things and quietly leave the room under the stare of all the students.
I came down from that building in a state of shock, sat down on a bench, and stayed there for an hour or so. I could not think of anything that warranted that sort of rudeness, and it did not occur to me to complain to the administration.
Keep in mind that I did not know a single person in that class, but I never imagined that the quiet me would instantly gain unwanted notoriety from that situation. As soon as they finished that class, a lot of students came rushing down to ask me what had happened between me and that teacher, what I had done, and why she had reacted that way. My response to each of them was, “I don’t know.” But being asked the same question over and over was one thing, imagine the girl sitting right next to me asking me, “What did you do?” I snapped. With an irritated tone, I said, “You were sitting right next to me, did you see me do anything?”
So I finished the rest of my classes and went home thinking maybe it was a one off thing. It kept happening, over and over again, basically reliving the same scene without anything changing on each side. In hindsight, it might have helped if I had at least asked her why she was doing that to me. But I didn’t, so after weeks of us dancing to that tune, she stopped asking me to leave her classroom, and I stupidly believed it was the end of my ordeal.
Nope. Wishful thinking.
That woman would give us written assignments, and no matter how well I did, she would mark me unfairly, but I bore with it. I even remember a time when a classmate of mine came to me and told me she had not done her homework and asked if she could copy mine, and of course I said, “Go ahead.” I am saying of course because of that damn personality I had. Anyway she literally copied my whole paper word for word. When it came to grading, she got an 18/20 and I got a 12/20.
Another time, she gave us pages and pages of a difficult assignment. I answered every question except one. Early in the morning, I asked each student if they had managed to answer that particular question, none of them had. I even helped a few students with other difficult questions. When we got to her class, she said, “I am going to go around and check if all of you did the assignment.” Fair enough.
I was sitting in the middle row of the third line. She started with the first line and barely glanced at each paper, and I had a sinking feeling she was about to target me. I anxiously followed her with my eyes, feeling in my gut that she was doing all of this just to get to me, and she didn’t disappoint. While she glanced at each paper, when she reached me, she took her sweet time reading my answers and flipped through a few pages until she found the only question I had not answered. She pointed at it and said in a dry tone, “Why didn’t you answer this question?” In a barely audible voice, I said, “Miss, I don’t know the answer.” She stepped back and said, “Take your things and leave my classroom.” Once again, I left without a word. I got used to her meanness.
Anyway, she did everything she could to fail me, but I did not give her a reaction. Meanwhile, at home, I complained to my mother every day, telling her that a teacher was targeting me unfairly and that I needed her to deal with it. My mother would say, “I can’t leave work, but ask your aunt to go with you.” I didn’t want my aunt, I wanted my mother, who at that time was very aggressive toward people who wronged us. She didn’t argue, if she found you at fault, you could be sure she would react physically. I remember once my older sister came back from a shop and told my mother that a man had touched her inappropriately. My mother went straight to the shop, grabbed a bottle of Coca Cola from the counter, and hit the man on the head. I wanted someone to deal with that teacher just as decisively.
But my mother didn’t deal with it, as she was overworking herself. She had two jobs and slept only three hours a day, four if she was lucky.
Remember I said I gained some notoriety because of Ms. Aicha bullying me. Well, I will be chilling and my classmates will come up to me to suggest different possible reasons for the bullying from the way I dressed, my lipstick, maybe my face...etc. I considered everything but rejected all of it because none of it made sense.
One time, a few classmates came excitedly with another girl from a different class and said, “Guess what? We found someone else she is bullying.” That girl gave me advice, but it didn’t really help.
Then one day, my two best friends from my previous class came to see me. One of them said, “You know Ms. Aicha? I think I figured out why she is giving you a hard time. Remember last year when we were sitting on the steps under the administration building, and that woman with the dean came to us? Ms. Aicha pointed at us and said, ‘It’s these three.’ The dean looked at us and said, ‘I don’t think it’s them, let’s go.’ Maybe she had an issue with some girls, thought it was us, and now she is punishing you for something those girls did. Maybe she is even behind your transfer.”
I remembered the incident but not the face, and that was the only explanation that made sense.
What was truly cruel was not just the bullying, but the feeling that she had destroyed my chances of getting into the final class before university, where only two students out of more than forty were selected.
When you are young, you don’t see very far, you focus only on the obstacle in front of you. It doesn’t occur to you that maybe God is redirecting you to something greater. I felt defeated most days and thought about how my situation might have been resolved if my father had been alive. That is the one and only time I truly felt his absence. I was so affected that I found myself regretting a loss that had happened decade ago. I felt stuck, and at my wit’s end, all I could do was curse her by asking Allah to deal with her. I even, at one point, threw rocks at her residence's door.
thatthatthatNow, decades later, my niece, who somehow looks like me, was bullied by a teacher’s assistant. She reported it, had witnesses, and because she is one of the best students, the school dismissed that assistant. Later, the assistant apologized and asked if her mother had studied at that such and such school. My niece realized she was talking about me and clarified that I was her aunt. The assistant then said, “My sister used to teach your aunt. She used to bully her a lot because your aunt and some other girls insulted my sister. One time, my sister took me to assist her class and I even felt sorry for your aunt. Bla bla bla. Ask your aunt to forgive my sister as her career never advanced after that bla bla bla"
That is when I realized my friend’s theory was spot on. That woman made my life miserable because she believed I had wronged her. It wasn't even me.
Anyway, in hindsight, every difficult experience in my life has led to something far greater than I could have imagined. I thought I lost the chance to go to university but God knew I was going to attend a better university, in a better place.
It has always been like that for me. I go through a hard time and after I get on the other side of the storm, I understand why I went through that, a new opportunity or a needed transformation in me occurs. Absolutely no regret, in fact AlhamdoulilAh for all the trials, it has made me a better human.
Do you understand that sentiment?
Do share something similar if you can?
Thumbnail photo is Ai-generated