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In my circle, it was fast becoming a culture for most teens to attend a computer school immediately after they were done with their secondary school education. That was while they were awaiting admission letters from the university they applied to.
I wasn't left out. I attended a random one in my area. To me and numerous others, it was more of a past time than an actual desire to acquire an Information and computer technology (ICT) skill.
So pardon me if I tell you that my fondest memory at the vocational centre isn't how I excelled at working with Excel spreadsheets or how I processed documents with word processors. I pray my ancestors don't get disappointed to know that my fondest memory from the skill acquisition centre isn't the skill itself but a skill I created myself. It was there that I honed the skill of holding a long, friendly conversation with a girl.
I mean, I went to a computer school, but what I remember most from the school is my banter with a girl. Her name is Priscilla. It's not like I acquired zero computing skills; I actually did. As a matter of fact, I was one of the best graduating students there, but my memories with Priscilla tower above everything else I did there.
My escapade with her forms a vivid image in my brain, culminating in a figurative object that can't be forgotten.
As silly as it sounds, being able to have a friendly chat with a girl was somewhat of a breakthrough for me. If you have a peek at my secondary school days, such a claim wouldn't come as a surprise to you—I had nothing close to a social life. Well, I didn't do so badly with the guys, but I was totally poor with the girls.
Don't get me wrong, I got much attention from the female folks thanks to my not-too-bad looks. But I was too naive to return those attentions and maybe build some form of friendship from there.
I remember reading in a class, after finishing my first paper in the Senior Secondary School Certificate Examination (SSCE), one of the hottest girls in our set, Peace, walked in. She had yet to experience SSCE because she was in art class, and the first set of papers were science practicals. Seeing that I was reading in the class, she greeted me excitedly and proceeded with the same excitement to ask, "How's it like to write SSCE?" She said that with a lingering tone—the kind that begs for a quality conversation. Her gesture spoke even louder; I could hear, "I'm not as interested in whatever answer you have to give as I am in having chitchat with you."
Just as I used to do, then, I failed her and myself once again by giving a short answer, "fine." That's all I could mutter. Apparently, she wasn't the kind that easily gives up, as she followed it up with other questions, to which I gave a similar abrupt reply. Disappointedly, she walked away. This scenario pretty much sums up my engagement with girls in my secondary school days. I believe you now understand why I thingify the memories I created with Priscilla.
I first noticed Priscilla leaning on a half wall mounted at the edge of the veranda that spans a few metres from a large doorway leading to a spacious auditorium that serves as our general lecture hall. She was there with Gabriel, the only friend I had at the school. I only intended to bid Gabriel goodbye, but as I waved at Gabriel, Priscilla waved back at me with a smile, which pleased my heart.
Going forward, our meetings will be more frequent since we share a mutual friend, Gabriel. I'll later find out that, other than a mutual friend, we shared many other things in common. For one, she was a science student, just as I was.
We never ran out of topics to discuss. On more than one occasion, we've spent the whole night conversing on the phone, while we'll meet up in school to continue the conversation.
Of course, it was going to be impossible to sustain such energy for the long haul. But even though the communication died down months after the completion of our programme, the memory I created with Priscilla is a treasured object in my brain, the kind that can't be forgotten.