My First Day In School

Let’s talk a little about my first day at the prestigious, highly distinguished, reputable and respected institution. Can I be vulnerable? Is this a safe space, our safe space, or do we loose makes here… you know we’re all about the marks on this space. 

Prior to my first day at LBS, I had all these thoughts. What would class be like? What would it feel like to finally meet my course-mates? For some funny reason I was all caught up in being that perfect Coursemate and student that I totally forgot to pay attention to the fact that this was actually a school, not any school but the almighty Lagos Business School. 

I walked into school feeling super fly in my low cut hair, white shirt, jean trousers and sneakers. It was a Saturday, we were allowed for this one day and I wanted to maximize the opportunity. 

Surprisingly, yet as expected, when classes started it was all book work, man was I taken by surprise. I was so unprepared that the liquid in my stomach turned into acid and suddenly attacked me. 

Shortly after breakfast, I came back into glass, sat down to continue lectures but my stomach had another agenda. It was a coup d’etat, my stomach was going on a frenzy, a rampage, she had betrayed me. I had prepared too hard and seized my mental breath so hard that she was so upset and wanted to give it to me tit for tat.

It started softly, an intense sharp bite, up my stomach from my navel area upward. Oh my, no not now friend!!! 

Slowly the pain would increase, take a break and then hit twice as hard. It was freaking apocalypse, my apocalypse, the last thing I had prepared for. My gastric ulcer is one enemy I had become all too familiar with but this time was not prepared for, I had left my bottle of miracles in my traveling bag. 

Immediately I thought of flying out of class, but where to? I am no resident of the monstrous city of Lagos, it was my first time in this area. I clenched my sit, deliberating my options. I noticed school was strict with movements during class, there were even cameras to monitor us and then that lady with the tiny voice informing us at the beginning of every class that the session was being recorded (sweet mother of Moses). I started sweating profusely, beyond the ulcer pains, I was genuinely scared. 

Then I remembered we had a friend and member of faculty, a man so exceptionally helpful I knew I could count on him. I immediately reached out via sms to Chinedu. It took barely minutes before he came running down with lifesaving medication.

What is point then exactly? Why the long boring yet engaging write up? Consider this a pan