I Trained My Child
Lydia Aremu@lydiaaremu315367
2 days ago
I Trained My Child
The outright denial and defense of children's misbehavior by parents never cease to amaze me. "My son would never say that!" one parent once yelled at a colleague. Another time, a parent looked me straight in the eye and demanded, "Are you calling my daughter a liar?" Unfortunately, such experiences have drained my enthusiasm for teaching to the point where I’ve become numb to the unacceptable behavior of students in my school. Where common-sense disciplinary measures should be applied, the fear of parents' reactions has turned teachers into passive spectators, watching as misbehavior escalates unchecked.
"Just teach your classes and observe nothing else," teachers often advise one another. When asked about students' conduct, the usual response to school management is, "The pupils are well-behaved, ma'am." In cases of bullying, the best we can do is apologize to the victim's parents, console them, and report the incident to the head teacher.
This silent war among teachers, students, parents, and school management came to a head on November 19th, 2020. On that fateful day, a victim's parent decided she had had enough.
I was on pickup duty when I noticed her sitting in a jeep in the school parking lot. She was dressed in the traditional attire of a worshipper, commonly known as *'alawo.'* At first, I assumed she had been invited to participate in her daughter's class storytelling week and was waiting for the closing bell.
But as soon as she spotted the mother of her child's bully, she leaped out of her jeep and began chanting incantations, swinging a talisman in the air. When she reached the bully's mother, she grabbed her blouse. Fear gripped everyone present—staff on duty and waiting parents alike. The shock on the bully's mother's face was so profound that I thought she might be having a heart attack.
As an African, I understood the gravity of the situation. Touching someone in such traditional attire could invite a hex, so I dared not intervene physically. Instead, I pleaded on behalf of the bully's mother. Other parents, staff, and the head teacher, who had initially disappeared, soon joined in the desperate appeals. After what felt like an eternity, the victim's mother finally let go, and the bully's mother bolted from the scene like a flash of lightning.
The following day, a meeting was called to address the incident. The victim's mother began, "My daughter has reported the bullying to teachers multiple times. I’ve spoken to the school and written complaints, but nothing has changed. I decided that before her daughter kills my only child, I would put her mother in a vegetative state since she refuses to teach her daughter respect and boundaries. I apologize for overreacting."
The bully's mother countered, "Madam, my husband and I have disciplined our daughter. We’ve taken away her gadgets, grounded her, and revoked her privileges. I trained my daughter, ma’am. I don’t know where she picked up this habit of bullying."
Before anyone could respond, the bully's father interjected with a thunderous voice, "What are you apologizing for? Madam, you should have trained your daughter to defend herself. In fact, I’ll have you arrested for assaulting my wife!"
Before he could finish his sentence, the victim's father lunged across the 24-by-10-foot conference table, grabbing the bully's father by the throat. "Ewooo!" someone screamed. "Mr. Sangokeye, please, take it easy!" our principal pleaded, trying to separate the two men. Punches rained down on the bully's father, who was now flat on the floor. "Security! Security!" the head teacher shouted, finally regaining her composure.
I wasn’t surprised by the outburst. The anger had been brewing for a long time. I slipped out of the room to return to my classes. My presence at the meeting was unnecessary, and I couldn’t afford to lose more precious teaching time. Besides, I had already witnessed enough drama the day before.
By the end of the school day, the matter was resolved—after the bully's father was resuscitated.
#stories
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