“It must be a spiritual problem. A boy with such a bright future decides to take up a gun to hurt his fellow students”
By Oseyi Zack Edetanlen
For the first time that school year, the bell rang at the same time every day at Star Light Comprehensive Academy, fifteen minutes late. Students on their way to class strolled down the hallway with heavy bags of school books and stationery, but schoolgirls with the signature rice, beans, and dodo hairdo, smelling of relaxer chemicals and hair cream, were nowhere to be found at their usual spot by the gate. Scanty cars lay in disarray inside the school compound, assigned for staff parking, and the blue Toyota Camry was slightly out of line at the spot reserved for the school principal.
The door of the staff room was open for use at exactly 7:15 A.M. Inside, the air crackled with tension and awkward silences. The empty chairs in the stuffy room—with one ceiling fan rotating slowly in the middle—were filled with the teachers. The staff meeting was expected to start soon, leaving a dreaded feeling in the air above their heads.
“Where could the principal be at this time of the morning, and what’s causing the delay?” Teacher number one said, staring at the small watch around her wrist.
“Do you have anywhere else to be?” Teacher number two quizzed in a laughable tone. She was one of the oldest staff members in the school, who never had the time or energy to do her job.
“I need to get to class to continue teaching. I’m yet to complete my scheme of work for the term”. Teacher number one’s red lipstick left a hideous sight on her chapped lips.
“Scheme of work? After what happened, you’re still willing to teach your students?”
The statement met with the intense, overbearing heat in the room, eliciting more irritated reactions.
“I wonder o! I haven’t been able to look at those children the same way”, Teacher number three started the discourse. Teacher number one looked back at her like a second head had suddenly sprouted out of her shoulders. Then she said, “How can you even say that? They are still our responsibility, whether we like it or not.”
“God forbid! Our responsibility? Is it until they kill the rest of us that we will begin to act with our senses?” The elderly woman clapped back without hesitation.
“But no teacher died”, Teacher number one stated the obvious, making a few other teachers join in the conversation. The mathematics teacher, a slim man with an itchy-looking moustache, then said, “At least not yet. Three of our staff are still in the hospital fighting for their lives over severe gunshot wounds, and you’re there talking about going back to class to teach?”
“What about the students? They were shot at too”, Teacher number one argued.
“Exactly. Nine students might not make it back home to their families all because of what?” Teacher number two spat.
“Because of a boy who decides to act wrongly”, the man with the itchy-looking moustache said, facing teacher number one directly.
“It must be a spiritual problem. A boy with such a bright future decides to take up a gun to hurt his fellow students”, Teacher number two shook her head in disapproval and then fingered the rosary around her neck.
“And teachers. You’re forgetting the teachers, and it is wrong”, He flared up suddenly, startling his colleagues.
“OK, I have heard.” Teacher number one acquiesced.
“But what could have led him to such? He is such a good student with impressive grades”, Teacher number three suddenly remembered her boiled groundnuts and fetched the white, see-through nylon out of her bag.
“A very respectful boy. He’s always so neatly dressed too.” Another teacher joined in, dipping her hand into the nylon for some groundnuts. The sound of the broken shell yielded its reward with salty groundnut thrown into her wide-open mouth.
Teacher number one went: “Who did they say owns the gun again?”
“It has to be his father’s. Who else? His father being a police officer must be how he had access to a gun in the first place.” He said with a sneer on his face—as if he had a thing against police officers.
“Or maybe he started mixing with the wrong crowd. Boys his age can be easily influenced.” Teacher number three asserted a little too loudly.
“It has to be spiritual. The devil must have seen how far he was going to go in life and decided to tarnish his good fortune.” Teacher number two interjected.
Teacher number one scoffed at the remark for being incredulous. “Not everything has to be spiritual. Maybe he was facing some type of pressure at home, or even in school. Being top of the class every term is no small feat.”
“More like peer pressure”, Teacher number three muttered to herself and gave a long hiss.
“What about the counsellor? I thought we had one”, Teacher number two suggested.
With a throaty laugh, she replied: “We have an empty office with a sign on the door.”
A student, a girl with a round head and a uniform two sizes too tight, walked into their midst, and the room grew instantly silent. With a series of notebooks in her hand, the girl advanced towards the table where teacher number three sat. As soon as she left, the teachers resumed their chatter—glad to continue their harmless gossip.
“What do you think is going to happen to him now?” Teacher number two went first, fingering the rosary again.
“I hope he spends the rest of his life in jail.” He fetched his breakfast from a small carrier bag nearby. The stench of boiled egg filled the room, and thankfully, he opened the windows for fresh air to get in.
Teacher number one wasn’t supposed to be defensive. However, she said, “Jail? But he’s a minor” Her chapped lips had been smoothed with a lip balm.
“A minor that takes a loaded gun to school and decides to use it on innocent lives? Is that one a minor?” Teacher number three refused to agree with the suggested innocence that was being instigated.
“Whatever anyone says, he’s still a minor”
“That’s why jail for juveniles exists” He joined in, his lips glistening from the excess oil of his meal.
“He might not go to jail. Have you forgotten his father is in the police force? Nothing is going to happen to him, I’m sure of it.” Teacher number three remarked bitterly.
Teacher number two tutted to herself and said, “What about the parents of the victims? They need to act fast and get justice for what happened to their innocent babies.”
“What if one of them dies?” The teacher who had dipped her hand for spare groundnuts said, grinding her teeth roughly.
“God forbid it! None of them will die”, Teacher number one rebuked firmly.
“So, now you’re religious too?” The mathematics teacher laughed and threw his head backwards.
“Don’t mind her. Wasn’t he your favourite student?” One of the teachers teased.
“No o! My favourite student would never”, Teacher number one said quickly. Then, she began talking proudly about the students in her class that she admired, and how she was so sure that none of them would be capable of manning a gun—or hurt anyone with it.
“So, whose star student was he?” The question lay thick in the atmosphere, even though all the teachers present already knew the answer.
***
The principal, a man in his late fifties with a rotund belly—to show off his old age and numerous years of experience, stood in the middle of the room. There was a thick file in his hand, containing the fate of the teachers of Star Light Comprehensive Academy. He cleared his throat and rubbed his stomach through the shirt and suspenders he was wearing.
“Before we begin, I would first like to state that there has been some bad news.” His voice caught their rapt attention. Teacher number two held her rosary and mouthed some words in Latin. After a brief pause, he continued, “And some good news. However, whatever happens here today has already been decided before now.”
He began to read from one of the filed papers. “The report states that on Monday, the 13th of March, 2021, an identified student of SSS 2B shot and fatally injured nine other students and three teachers with a pistol, registered under the name, Jude Chibueze. The incident occurred at exactly past ten A.M., when the Agricultural Science teacher was writing lesson notes on the whiteboard. Without any form of altercation or trigger, the said student walked up to the front of his class and fired the loaded weapon at six of his classmates. In the process of trying to dislodge the gun from his hands—visibly shaky and unstable, according to eyewitnesses, the teacher was also shot at close range. Still in a rage, the student walked to the next class and shot three more students of SSS 2A and two more teachers who had been trying to contain the situation.
“When the sounds of the shots fired reverberated throughout the whole building, the security officers began their search for the suspect. The search lasted for over thirty minutes, and finally, he was found sitting and waiting in one of the empty classrooms to be captured and detained—with the weapon still in his hands.” He looked up from the filed paper.
“You might have noticed the newly improved CCTV cameras all over the place and a checkpoint with armed security officers by the gate. It is a welcome development to prevent such a gory incident from ever repeating itself.”
There was a small pause for the principal to clear his throat once again. He proceeded to read from another paper in the file. With his hand still on his belly, he continued, “The final rounds of investigations show that the class teacher of SSS 2B, Ms. Bintu, was absent from school on the day of the shooting”. Immediately, his eyes found the young, dark-skinned teacher, with her hair set in a neatly wrapped bun atop her head. “She was unavailable to attend to private family matters, while one of her students shot at innocent lives unprovoked”. He was staring at her squarely now.
“Were you aware of his unstable behaviour prior to the incident? There had to be warning signs to make up for this grievous act. A child does not just wake up from his slumber and decide to act like a terrorist.”
With a sombre tone, she mumbled, “No, sir. There were no warning signs whatsoever.”
“Your gross incompetence and absence from school on the day of the said incident say a lot about your character”. The principal shut the file close and was about to leave when the mathematics teacher asked, “Sir, what about the bad news you talked about earlier?”
“Yes, about that—the boy died in custody this morning”, He said casually, not a single emotion etched on his face. “His father confirmed it”.
The soft murmurs brought the meeting to a close. The school bell rang for the second time that morning, and the teachers dispersed out of the room one after the other.
Oseyi Zack Edetanlen is a writer born and living in the southern region of Nigeria, passionate about writing fiction pieces that explore numerous themes. Her works have appeared on The Kalahari Review, The Talking Drum Magazine, and elsewhere. When she’s not thinking of the next big thing to write about, she’s fixing herself a quick cup of coffee. You can find her on X with the handle: @oseyizackwrites
Cover photo credit: Zsófia Fehér