Is your child in a school from hell?

If there is a school from hell, it must be the one I briefly went to while in primary school.

For some reason, my dad decided to take me to boarding school when I was in Standard Six.

The school was not very far from home, and parents were allowed to visit every Sunday, so I did not protest when he dropped me off at my new school and left me in the staffroom waiting to be shown to my dormitory.

Dormitory. I learnt this word then.

Anyway, the nightmare started almost immediately. When I woke up the next day, my new mabati, (metal sheet) box, was gaping open.

I would later learn that the thieves used a sturdy piece of wood to hit the middle of the box, an action that would raise the lid on either side, rendering the padlock useless.

NO SHAME

Everything else, apart from my school uniform, towel, and second pair of sheets, was gone. I had no soap, no tissue, no toothpaste...

Being a newbie, and with no friends yet, I broke down and started crying, yearning to go home.

Luckily, some girls lent me what I needed until my dad came to visit that Sunday. Even though I wasn’t robbed again, thanks to a reinforced box, I knew I would never like that school.

For the two terms that I stayed put until I couldn’t do it anymore, I saw stuff that you would never imagine could happen in a primary school. What would such young children know, right?

You would be surprised.

The school was mixed, and someone, in great wisdom, decided that the boys’ and girls’ dormitories should be built side by side.

You will find it difficult to believe, but a number of girls spent nights in their boyfriends’ beds, never mind that the dormitories were huge halls, and that the beds were double-deckers.

These girls did not bother to hide this fact, and in the morning, they would casually walk back to take a bath and get ready for classes. No walk of shame for these girls.

Those who were not brave enough to spend the night in a roomful of boys could be seen making out with their boyfriends, half naked, in not-so-dark corners after night preps. Talk of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Initially, I was shocked, given my sheltered background, but after seeing such scenes often, the shock wore off.

During the time I survived in that hostile environment, two girls were sent away for getting pregnant.

But what eventually convinced me that things would not end well for me if I stayed was when a teacher caned me because my book was filled up.

Yes, you heard right. My book was filled up, so I walked up to my Kiswahili teacher and handed it to him, and asked for a new one.

He signed it, and then told me to get a new one from the staff room, and ask the teacher I got there to cane me before giving me a new book.

Stupid me did just that, and believe it or not, the teacher I found, a woman, and I presume someone’s mother, took a stick and gave me two stinging lashes on the palms — never mind that I had not done anything to deserve it.

GRATEFUL TO DAD

When my dad came for me after school closed that term, the first thing I told him was that I wouldn’t be going back, and that nothing or anyone would make me go back.

He must have seen the solid resolve in my face, or read the anguish in my eyes, because he did not argue with me, or try to reason with me, or even employ his God-given authority as a father to say “No”.

He simply nodded, took me home, and looked for another school — a day school. And for that, dad, I will always be grateful.

That boarding school is now said to be one of the best in Kiambu County.

It might be true; many years have gone by since I left, but even though I live in that county, I could never bring myself to take my child there – the memories I have wouldn’t allow me.

Does your child often complain about their school or get visibly distressed when returning after holidays?

Have they begged you to transfer them to another school? Instead of ignoring them, maybe you should consider it — theirs could be a school from hell.