The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

Who wants to become a Teacher like me?

David Oletu

Teachers deserve better! It’s time to amplify their voices and recognise their invaluable contributions.

While their rewards may be eternal in heaven, they should also be tangibly acknowledged on earth.

We must prioritise their well-being and provide adequate support to ensure a positive teaching experience, benefiting both educators and students.

The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

I slumped into the worn couch in my small seating room, surrounded by bright-coloured walls adorned with faded family photos and dog-eared bookshelves. 

The warm glow of the evening sun streamed through the window, casting a cosy ambience. 

My phone, forgotten in the cushions, suddenly buzzed to life. I fished it out, and my heart skipped a beat as I read the message:

“Congratulations! You have been offered admission to study English education at Gracevine University.”

A burst of emotion exploded within me. I leapt from the couch. The phone was still clutched in my hand as I spun around the room. 

The news seemed to reverberate off the walls, filling the space with an infectious energy.

I felt weightless, as if I might float away on the tide of my dreams.

“Finally!” I exclaimed aloud, laughing. “I’m going to study education and become that renowned teacher I’ve always dreamed of!”

Mom’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “What’s all the excitement about?”

She poked her head into the seating room, a knowing smile spreading across her face as she took in my radiant grin.

“I got it!” I waved the phone like a trophy. “Gracevine University!”

Dad appeared at her side, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

 “Congratulations, son!” He opened his arms, and I fell into a warm hug.

My little sister curled up on the armchair and looked up from her book, confusion giving way to excitement.

“Brother, you’re going to be a teacher!”

As we shared hugs and joyful tears, our small seating room transformed into a celebration haven.

The air vibrated with joy, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.

The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

A few months later, after the whole excitement in the air, as I prepared to leave for the university,

my parents laid their hands on me, their voices filled with emotion as they prayed.

Luke 13:10 KJV
[10] And he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. https://bible.com/bible/1/luk.13.10.KJV 

“Son, you will make it! You will excel in Jesus’ name!” they prayed, their words echoing with conviction.

Their consistent prayers almost made me miss my bus, but I couldn’t rush their blessings.

“Amen!” I exclaimed, trying to signal them that time was running out.

Yet, nothing compared to the warmth of their prayers. Their words were more precious than gold, infusing me with confidence.

With their hands still on my head, I felt invincible, assured that I would conquer challenges with ease and excel.

My little sister sobbed uncontrollably, mourning the departure of her fun-loving big brother.

But I knew I had to answer life’s call, embracing the journey to shape my future.

“Life is calling my name,” I whispered, smiling.

With a final hug, I left home, racing to catch the first bus to Gracevine University.

Excitement coursed through my veins as I embarked on this new chapter.

The six-hour journey to Gracevine University seemed endless, but my thoughts were already soaring to the future.

As we traversed the Federal Road, flanked by stunning buildings and lush forests,

I envisioned my future: standing before a sea of young faces, sharing knowledge and inspiring growth.

Teaching wasn’t just a profession; it was a calling to impact greatness in others. 

My secondary school teacher, Mr. Lati, had ignited this passion within me.

His innovative methods and genuine interest in our success left an indelible mark. I aspired to emulate his dedication and impact.

Despite knowing that teachers in my country often faced financial struggles, I remained resolve.

The prospect of being underpaid didn’t deter me; Mr. Lati’s influence had instilled a deeper purpose.

“I want to be like him,” I thought, “a catalyst for change, shaping minds and futures.”

As the bus rumbled on, my excitement grew. I was about to embark on a journey that would equip me to inspire generations.

As I stepped onto the most beautiful campus of Gracevine University,

a surge of liberation coursed through me. “Freedom!” echoed in my heart.

This was a haven where I could sculpt my future, unhindered.

Securing my desired course, English education, was just the beginning.

Now, I was determined to excel and harness my knowledge to inspire others.

The university’s diverse tapestry fascinated me.

Students from varied cultural backgrounds converged, united by a shared purpose.

Beyond academics, our differences became the threads that wove our bonds.

In this melting pot, cultural barriers were dissolved and replaced by meaningful connections.

We were no longer just individuals from disparate backgrounds; we were a community, forged by shared aspirations.

One day, during orientation, Dr. Osifo, a distinguished lecturer, addressed us in a hall.

His appearance was striking—a dark-skinned man with prematurely white hair, rumoured to be only 50 years old. 

His youthful age belied his wispy locks, fuelling whispers that white hair signified wisdom.

As I gazed at Dr. Osifo, I pondered his journey. 

Had he devoted his life to studying and teaching, sacrificing personal interests for the greater good?

His salary, I speculated, was modest compared to the demands of researching and mentoring.

A wave of introspection washed over me.

Could I emulate Dr. Osifo’s selflessness and my beloved secondary school teacher, Mr. Lati’s dedication?

Doubts crept in, threatening to derail my focus.

“Hmm, can I make this bold sacrifice?” I wondered.

But I swiftly shook off the uncertainty, reaffirming my commitment.

My mind snapped back to the goal: becoming an educator and inspiring future generations.

“I will remain focused,” I resolved.

Years later, with God’s guidance, I triumphantly completed my four-year journey at Gracevine University, emerging as a distinguished educator.

As I prepared to leave, I proudly declared:

“I have fought the good fight! I’ve paid the price. Now, it’s time to make a meaningful impact on my country with my education degree and reap the rewards!”

The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

With confidence and purpose, I stepped into my future.

Within months of graduation, I secured a teaching position at a senior secondary school. 

The demand for qualified teachers was high, as many had shied away from the profession. But I was determined to make a difference.

“I’m here to change the narrative,” I thought, beaming with conviction.

My journey as an educator had begun, and I was ready to inspire, mentor, and empower the next generation.

My first day in class to teach students full-time was exhilarating!

As I stepped in, the students’ bright faces lit up, and they rose in unison, greeting me with infectious enthusiasm:

“Good morning, Sir, you are blessed!”

I stood there, momentarily speechless, humbled by their warm welcome.

Living my dream, following in Mr. Lati’s footsteps, felt surreal.

The students’ expectant gazes remained fixed on me, still standing, awaiting permission to sit.

But I was lost in the moment, replaying the journey that brought me here.

A gentle reminder broke the spell: “Sir, can we sit down?” A student called out, shifting her weight, her legs visibly tired.

Snapping back to reality, I smiled. “Oh! Good morning, students! Please take your seats.”

The class exhaled collectively, relief washing over their faces as they settled in.

“I’m Mr. David, and I’m excited to be here…” I began, but before I could finish, the students erupted into applause. 

Their enthusiasm caught me off guard, and I struggled to quiet them down.

“Thank you! Thank you!” I pleaded, but my voice was drowned out by the clapping.

The lack of a microphone made it challenging to address the large class.

As the cheers subsided, I noticed the harsh learning environment.

Some students stood, while others sat on the floor.

The room was sweltering, with idle fans hanging from the ceiling, offering no relief.

I raised my voice to its highest pitch, but I worried that some students still struggled to hear due to the poor conditions.

The heat took its toll on me too; sweat dripped down my face as I longed for fresh air.

My initial excitement waned, replaced by concern for my students’ learning experience. I couldn’t wait to escape the stifling classroom.

Determined to spark change, I marched to the principal’s office, eager to address the dire learning conditions.

“Sir, the classroom environment is not conducive to learning,” I urged. “We must do better.”

The principal’s amused chuckle caught me off guard.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he said with a knowing smile. “Welcome to the reality of our educational system.”

His words stung, implying that I was naive to expect change.

“Adapt to the system,” he advised, his tone resigned. “That’s how it works.”

I left the office, disillusioned.

The mantra that “our reward is in heaven” rang hollow.

Why must teachers endure hardships, inconveniences, and meagre compensation while shaping minds?

My first day as a teacher left me feeling unexpectedly uncomfortable. 

Hadn’t I spent four years and more preparing for this moment?

This was my passion, my calling. Yet, the harsh reality shook me. No wonder many fled the profession.

I empathised with school owners and recruiters, forced to hire unqualified teachers due to the scarcity of dedicated educators.

It takes sacrifice for qualified ones like me to stay.

The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

As I returned home, my mother sensed my dismay. “What’s wrong, dear? You look troubled,” she asked, concern etched on her face.

“Nothing, Ma. I’m fine,” I replied, hiding my true emotions.

She knew better.

She had expected me to burst through the door, eager to share exciting stories from my first day.

Instead, sadness and worry clouded my face.

After giving me space to collect my thoughts, my mother returned, and I poured out my heart, sharing every struggle and fear.

Her words of encouragement lifted me:

“Don’t let your dream fade, not after all your hard work. You’re making a difference, even when it’s tough.”

Emboldened by my mother’s words, I returned to school the next day, dressed impeccably in my sleek suit. 

As educators, we dress to impress, setting an example for our students. But beneath the façade, our struggles simmer.

The second day mirrored the first.

I faced a sea of students, and I was shouting to be heard over the din, despite knowing some minds wandered.

The sweltering heat left me drenched in sweat.

This uncomfortable routine persisted, session after session, with no respite in sight.

I continued to hide my frustrations behind a composed demeanour and a strong voice, commanding respect.

Yet the question lingered: For how long will I continue like this as a teacher?

At the end of each session, disappointing results were almost always inevitable, due to the poor learning conditions.

Yet, the blame fell squarely on us, the teachers. 

“Massive failures indicate teachers’ incompetence,” authorities would declare,

heaping pressure on educators and administrators to ensure student success, regardless of merit.

The emphasis on passing students, rather than fostering genuine learning, created a toxic environment. 

Meanwhile, we were cautioned against disciplining students effectively, lest they retaliate.

I recalled Mr. Douglas, my secondary school teacher, who suffered severe consequences for his strict nature.

Notorious students ganged up and brutally assaulted him, nearly costing him his life.

This harsh reality lingered, casting a shadow over our profession. 

As teachers, we concealed our fears, projecting authority and confidence, despite knowing some students harboured resentment and malicious intentions.

Our security and well-being hung in the balance, yet we persevered, driven by our passion for education.

I wish the parents were helping matters, but, unfortunately, some parents worsen the issue.

They view school as a solution for their children’s problems, overlooking the fact that the home is the first school. 

They neglect to instill good morals and learning culture in their children, expecting teachers to magically transform them.

We deal with diverse, challenging personalities in school, often wondering what kind of home environment shaped them. 

Despite our low pay, we’re expected to reverse the damage done by dysfunctional households,

where children have been neglected, exposed to harmful influences, or lacked parental guidance.

Some students come from broken homes, others from environments where crime and violence are normalized.

They bring these toxic behaviours to school, negatively impacting their peers.

Yet, we’re tasked with miraculously reforming them through core subjects like mathematics and English, all while our own security remains uncertain.

It’s a daunting, unrealistic expectation, given the complexities of modern parenting and societal issues.

The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

A parent once stormed into the staff room, her anger intense.

“Why did my child fail and repeat your class?” she demanded, slamming her hand on my desk.

Taken aback by her aggressive tone, I paused before responding.

But before I could speak, she raised her voice, creating a scene.

 “I’m talking to you, Mr…. whatever your name is! Why did my child repeat?”

The student, standing beside her mother, seemed confident, likely having fed her mother misinformation.

“But I wrote well in my exams,” she might have said. However, I knew the truth: her exam scripts revealed a different story.

Unfortunately, school policy prohibits returning scripts to students for them to see their errors. 

This student, notorious for disrupting classes and resisting learning, was now benefiting from her mother’s uninformed advocacy.

The principal intervened, calming the irate mother while gently reprimanding her for embarrassing a member of his staff. 

He assured the mother that the child would be promoted to the next class.

Then, the mother’s mind became calm as she saw the promotion recorded in the book.

But I lamented the reality: the child’s academic struggles, rooted in her unwillingness to focus and improve, remained unaddressed.

The mother’s priorities seemed misplaced, valuing advancement over actual learning.

It was a disheartening scenario; one I’d grown accustomed to in this system.

Likewise, society doesn’t help matters. The respect for teachers has dwindled, largely due to our meagre compensation. 

My experience with a landlord illustrates this stark reality.

When seeking a bachelor’s apartment, the landlord asked, “What’s your profession? Businessman? Lawyer? Doctor?”

“I’m a teacher,” I replied.

His gaze shifted, demeanour changing from interest to disdain.

“Teacher?” he repeated. “Will you be able to pay the rent?” he asked, scepticism lacing his tone.

His words stung, embodying society’s dismissive attitude toward teachers. 

We’re viewed as financially incapable, perpetuating the notion that teaching is a lesser profession.

Why shouldn’t they think this way? 

After all, when authorities fail to provide adequate compensation, it reinforces the notion that teaching is undervalued.

Everyone sees it—the pitiful remuneration, the lack of resources, and the overwhelming workload.

Yet we persevere, driven by our passion for educating and inspiring future generations.

But at what cost? Our self-worth suffers, our motivation wanes, and our value to society is diminished.

The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

When teachers finally realise their tireless efforts to transform lives were grossly underappreciated, they take a stand.

With placards held high, they pour into the streets, chanting:

“Increase our salary!”

“We shape lives; we deserve better!”

“Our rewards are also on Earth, not just in Heaven!”

Their demands echoed through the streets, seeking government attention.

But instead of action, officials offered empty promises of negotiation.

The irony was staggering—negotiating with the very individuals they once relied on for education.

Meanwhile, other professions, deemed more “essential,” would strike and promptly receive concessions without hesitation. 

Teachers, however, were left pleading, their cries falling on deaf ears.

Authorities assume teachers will eventually return to the classroom once they feel exhausted from protesting.

But they forget the devastating impact of our absence on the young minds we shape. 

Did they think they rose to power by chance, without a teacher’s guidance?

The disregard is galling.

Teachers mould future leaders, yet our worth is constantly diminished.

How long will this injustice persist?

Then, as protests subside, with demands unmet and negotiations futile, qualified teachers resign from their duty posts feeling exhausted and disillusioned.

As a result, the profession’s dignity dwindles, replaced by unqualified individuals eagerly seeking any pay, even if it’s little.

Joy, my colleague and friend, approached me one day, her eyes dimmed by despair.

“David, I’m leaving. I must prioritise my well-being and progress. So, I can’t teach anymore.”

But I urged her to reconsider.

“Joy, don’t give up now. Think of your years studying education.”

But she says: “I have children to provide for. I’d rather build my business than endure this hardship.

The compensation is inadequate for the stress of managing countless students.”

I posed a crucial question: “What about the students who adore you? You’re one of the most beloved teachers here.”

Joy’s sigh was laced with resignation.

“Goodbye, David.” She departed, her head bowed, losing faith in the lasting impact she once envisioned for her students.

I remembered the spark in her eyes when we first joined the school.

Joy had been passionate about teaching, but now she left with sadness and hopelessness.

Another talented educator lost to systemic disregard.

One morning, filled with renewed enthusiasm, I decided to spark a crucial conversation with my students.

“What would you love to become in the future? I asked.

“Who wants to be a doctor?” Many hands were raised up eagerly.

“Pharmacists?” Many more joined in.

“Engineers?” Mostly boys, their faces lit up.

Then, I asked the question that would reveal the harsh reality:

“Who wants to become a teacher like me?”

Only one student, a quiet girl, raised her hand. The class stared at her in surprise, some snickering.

At that moment, I realised that even our students see a lack of value in our profession. They witness our struggles, our unheard voices.

I wondered about the girl’s future.

Will she persevere like Mr. Lati, Dr. Osifo, me, and other dedicated teachers,

or will she follow in Teacher Joy’s footsteps, losing passion amidst challenges?

Until the educational system addresses its pressing needs, the future remains uncertain.

I had no words of encouragement for her, only a heartfelt “Good Luck.”

Also Read: The Life of a Leader – Diademng (thediademng.org)

The Teachers’ Unheard Voices

More about Teachers’ Day: World Teachers’ Day – Wikipedia