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I was thinking about my childhood today and how hard it was going through primary school. It was like hell and going to school every morning was a nightmare for most pupil in my class. That's because education was delivered to us the hard way. Pupils were flogged and given lashes as punishment for failing a test, exams, coming late to school, not doing assignments etc. It was really terrible and every morning of the week day was a nightmare for us.

I remember one day we were given an assignment in class 5 by this teacher who was very strict and a good user of his whip. I went back home knowing that no matter what happens, I must do that assignment and not only do it but get it right. It was hard for me to do on my own so I asked my elder Sister for help. She did it easily on a separate sheet and I had to transfer it into my book in my own handwriting but a problem arose.

I could not visualize her handwriting that well. So she decided to copy it out in my book neatly and I tried to protest telling her that my teacher will get mad seeing that but she convinced me that it will be no problem and just in case he tries to punish me for that, she wrote a note explaining why she had to write it out in my book. With the note and my done assignment, I went to school and presented it it my teacher. The books of all other pupils was collected and when our teacher had marked all the books, he called me up.

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I knew I was in trouble from his tone. I walked up and my book was wide opened in front of him. I had everything correct but he immediately requested who did it for me. I told him it was my sister and shaking, I tried to explain why but he did not even give me the chance to explain. He picked up his whip and flogged me well. I felt each lash in my inner core and it was like tearing my flesh. That was what I got as reward for trying so hard to do my assignment and get it right. He did not even read the note from my sister and all he did was flog me mercilessly.

From that incidence, I hated him from my deepest core. I went home and in the evening when we were all seated at home, my elder sister asked how everything went in school and that was when I narrated my ordeal to her. How I was flogged mercilessly by my teacher. She was furious and burst out in anger. She made up her mind to go to our school the next day and give the teacher a piece of her mind. I was sore scared when she said that and I could hardly sleep that night. Early in the morning, she got up, prepared me and got herself ready too and took me to school.

Her encounter with my teacher was heated and the more they talked, I felt like melting on my desk because I knew what might happen to me after she has left. My elder Sister was a very bold someone and she actually got pur teacher apologising and it was the first time I saw him in that estate. After their conversation, she walked up to me and reassured me that everything was sorted out already and she gave me a tip for break time. From that day onwards, my teacher treated me differently and was more keen on the way he punished me.

Truth is, I was not a bad kid at all and that teacher was just exaggerating things especially in the way he handled pupils. Everyone knew that he flogged us like some animals. Well, that day was the end of his maltreatment and should I say abuse.
What got me thinking about it today is what I see in the West and Europe where students are disciplined in detention where they do minor activities that could be enjoyable if you ask me compared to the lashes I received in my own days.

Going to school was a nightmare and for good reasons. We were well flogged and we received the lashing of our lives. Sometimes, it felt like we were in some form of military training and not primary school and to think that we were just kids of 6-8yrs of age evenade it worse. When I think about it now, I really get annoyed. I will not like my own child as young as I was to be treated like that..

A line should be drawn between discipline and abuse if you ask me.