Having done my secondary school education in a military school, four words that describe that part of my life are rugged, streets, and onward together. Rugged in the sense that everything was brutal, from waking up in the morning, finishing your morning duty, maintaining personal hygiene, going for breakfast, and classes, being caught in the web of seniors, going for lunch, dinner, and night prep. At the end of the day, I lie in my bed thinking of what a crazy day I had and if I had the strength to complete my education at all. This is where street wisdom comes in. I called it streets. Streets helped me navigate the ruggedness, choose words carefully, and think smartly. Street taught me to be friends with the prefects in my hostel so I get easy morning duties, to make sure I had water (by any means possible) under my bunk the night before to take my bath the next day, to know which food to skip and which not to miss and the list goes on. Onward together was the motto of my school. This meant that if one person was caught, everybody would suffer the punishment. I really hated the application of this motto in my school days because I could be sleeping during a free period in class and the next thing we were all receiving lashes for noise making, no exceptions. It is funny how I have passed down this motto to my children. If one child commits an offense, they both would be punished. This has helped them to look out for each other even when I am not around, fostering a bond between them.
A day I will not forget in a hurry was my second term SS1 resumption day. School resumed on a Monday. Boarders resumed on a Sunday. However, for the first week of resumption, no class was held as a policy. Boarders must still be dressed in their uniform and go to class, sit down there till it is 2:30 pm when school is over. On Tuesday morning, something in me (whatever that was) told me to stay back in the hostel and sleep a little more, eat a little more, and maybe read a little. So I stayed back. Some of my roommates saw me and decided to stay back too. Well, I slept and ate as I had planned and while I was still sleeping, I heard people running. I was forced to wake up and saw the panic in the room. Military officers were in the hostel for an inspection (an inspection did not happen often). I quickly ran to the box room and entered a big ghana must go bag and took a stationary position on the floor. While I was doing this, Ifunanya (one of my roommates), hid inside the roof but I heard her complaining that the roof was hot. Everybody ran for their lives. After three hours of staying in that position, I heard footsteps of people (I presume to be the officers) entering the room and then the box room. No word was spoken, only footsteps, and after a while, they left. I was sweating profusely, not from heat but from fear of being caught. Some boarders were caught and deboarded for two weeks. I thank my God that Ifunanya was safe at the end of the day and that the boarders caught did not reveal my hiding place. The ruggedness and strict routines, combined with the need for street wisdom, developed the survival skills that I used to navigate the complexities of my hard knock school.
My boarding house experience left a lasting impact on me, shaping not only my memories but also influencing the way I see life and solving my problems as they come.
Culture eats strategy for breakfast: Why you should invest in your Company Culture