It happened about five years ago, but the memory is still fresh, like it was yesterday. My dad, a man of great vision, had always told me to be proactive when it came to my education, to stay ahead instead of waiting until the last minute. I always wonder if he says this thing to make me want to do more, or probably because he saw I wasn't doing what he expected of me.
The thing is, I was young and I believed I can get things done on time, I have the brain, the strength, and the determination to focus. Little did I know that, when an elderly person is talking to you, they are doing so because they have done the same thing you are doing, and they know the end result.
After gaining admission to study public administration at the university, my dad called me one evening, just a few weeks before I resumed my studies in the university.
"Ademola! Ademola!!" I could hear his voice coming from the balcony, and immediately I jumped up from my bed while screaming the usual "Sirrrrrrrr, I am coming." I did this so he would know I heard him, and I have responded.
Not responding when your parent calls you is a sign of disrespect, and my dad would only call me ademola when he has advice to give.
I got to the balcony, and I saw him sitting on his chair, while wearing his grey shorts and blue top.
"Sit down," He said to me, and I did with a lot of thought running through my mind.
“Ademola, you’re going to the university soon,” he started, his tone calm but firm. “And I want you to understand something very clearly. In secondary school, teachers may push you, remind you, and even punish you if you don’t study. But in the university, no one will force you. It will be up to you.”
I nodded, staring at him, but my mind was still halfway on the video game I had left in the room.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on me. “You have to be proactive. Don’t wait until exams are around the corner before you open your books. Read ahead, prepare yourself. University life can be rough and tough, but you must not let it carry you away.”
“Yes, sir,” I muttered, nodding again, hoping that would be enough to end the lecture.
But he wasn’t done. For nearly an hour, he spoke about discipline, about focus, about how education would shape my future. And all through it, I kept nodding, pretending to drink it all in, though in my head I was just waiting for the moment he would round up so I could return to my game.
Finally, he asked, “Do you have anything you want to say?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, sir.”
“Alright then,” he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “You can go.”
I stood up, relieved, and hurried back inside. Little did I know that everything he had said would come back to me, word for word, in just a few weeks when I stepped into the university.
At the time, there was one particular course I felt was easy. The exam was still two months away, so I told myself I had time. Why stress now? I could always pick it up a week before the paper, and everything would fall into place. That was the plan. Or at least, that was the lie I told myself. I was more focused on the course I believe were more difficult, even though I should have read ahead of the exam. I wanted to do "La cram La Pour" (Cramming what you read word for word)
A few days before the exam, I finally opened the textbook. What I met inside wasn’t the “easy” course I had imagined, but a mountain of complicated grammar, twisted explanations, and page after page that felt impossible to digest. I read, and read, and read again, but nothing seemed to stick. It was like pouring water into a basket; the more I read, the more it became difficult. Everything kept slipping away. Panic set in, but it was already too late to turn back.
Then exam day finally arrived. I walked into the hall, holding my book and hoping the little I had crammed would carry me through. I sat in my seat waiting for the exam papers that came shortly after we were all seated.
The moment I turned the paper over, my heart sank. The questions stared back at me like enemies I had never met before. Hard, strange, and unforgiving.
"Who set these questions?" I could hear someone say from behind me.
"Thank God, these questions are simple," another person to my right said.
At that moment, I realized I was finally facing the music of all my procrastination. I said a short prayer, hoping God would bring the answers to me, but I was all by myself, dancing to the tune I had set.
The End.
Thanks for reading. My name is Fashtioluwa.
