IMAGE CREDIT IS MINE
The ground whereupon I stood was elevated by the easy-to-hop-on rock, which was one of a few at the school entrance. It was a chilly morning, and school assembly had almost begun. I stood on the rock wearing my uniform of a sky blue shirt tucked into a short as the head prefect grandiosely flanked by one of my prefects. Our presence and aura at the entrance of the basic school commanded and hurried latecomers, and there I saw two very small boys, barely old enough to have started school, running hastily past us to the assembly ground. A nostalgic smile crept on my face when I remembered I was once in their shoes, small and innocent.
Becoming the head prefect was a big deal for me because my parents were not staff of the university community, a position preferentially vested in children of staff of the university. I knew and understood the privilege I enjoyed to study with and lead the children of academicians. Significantly, I was loved and commanded the respect of staff and students alike.
In 2008, I was barely twenty years old, but this time, I was the labor prefect in high school, which happened to be a boarding school. My rank was third after the head prefect and deputy, respectively. Labor prefects were usually disliked, if not abhorred, by students, who hated being subjected to labor activities in the school. The weeds were usually tall and tough and created a nuisance in the school, and the labor prefect had the responsibility of coordinating other students either routinely or spontaneously to keep them at bay. My presence at any place in school was easily attributed to my position. I hardly smiled; there was always grass to be cut. Years after I left high school, my name rang bells for those who never knew me physically. I was indeed more feared than respected!
"I never believed in my wildest dreams that we would talk and even be friends." Bimbo said this to me five years after high school. I smiled. She was my immediate junior, and we hardly talked back in high school, for I was assumed to be a terror to be feared, and those seen around me were frowned upon or perhaps considered playing a dangerous game. Yet, years later, relationships were mended, apologies were offered, most were reconciled, and a few remained aggrieved, hopefully only for a while. My principles and diligence during the course of the discharge of my duties earned me a mixed reaction, some positive and a few negative.
IMAGE CREDIT IS MINE
One of the most difficult and somewhat unnecessary things to do is have a facial reconstruction for aesthetic purposes. My pictures in basic school were few; I never liked mirrors, for in them, I saw myself as less physically attractive. My graduation picture from basic school clearly delineated the coat I wore from the suit my friend wore. I practically swam in the coat, and a similar situation occurred while in high school. I was the less privileged and had to make do with what I was gifted by my parents, though it was an inconvenience yet well appreciated. High school mostly had children of the rich because it was a school for the gifted, and I was good at masking my inferiority by making a show of being tough and onerous.
College was and had to be different. You either mingle or remain single. I was the one to stir up laughter in class and occasionally put my colleagues in trouble. College was the point where I made real friends that have lasted to this day. We studied, we played, we laughed, we fought, we panicked, and many more at the same level and measure. I began to loosen up and gradually practiced how to smile, even though the struggle was easily noticed in my reflection whenever I stared at the mirror. My picture-taking has improved, even though I have to filter and delete many to have a few for myself.
IMAGE CREDIT IS MINE
Now, I laugh more often and give out more jokes. I realized life was not about appearances but was a reflection of my inner self. I learned to live life a little and take life one step at a time!