October 5 every year is set aside globally as World Teachers Day. The celebration of the World Teachers’ Day gives governments, policy makers, analysts, opinion moulders and members of the general public the opportunity to celebrate the teachers for the immense role they play in shaping the society’s leadership, moulding the character of men and for generally doing so much for so little.
October 5 is a day to remember how important teachers are in shaping the thought patterns that mould and remould societies.
In understanding the role of the teacher in any society, it would be appropriate to establish a few things within the context of history, culture and general societal norms.
To begin with, teaching is a scared vocation, very much like the priesthood, it is a calling and only the called can truly settle in it. Ideally, teaching is a vocation for the best of the best- the best brains, the best minds, the best characters, the best thinkers, the best leaders, the best formators and just about the best in terms of any character or leadership subset you can imagine.
A great teacher- like a great priest need not be the best orator but he must understand the nuances of effective communication- able to share the most complex of ideas in the most basic of forms.
A good teacher is obligated to be a good human being, a compassionate soul- one who makes accommodation for human frailties and weaknesses- sees the best in everyone he comes across.
Teachers- in the consideration of many- do the best and most important work in the society- passing knowledge from one generation to the next. Paradoxically, doing the best work does not guarantee the best pay and teachers across the world- especially in Nigeria- can attest to this.
My parents taught for a combined 68 years- my father was a teacher for 35 years before his retirement in 2011 while my mother retired in May 2017 at the age of 60 having taught for 33 years. I know their story because it concerns me. Their financial status was hardly in green and things were not as rosy as we would have expected.
They trudged on because they believe the work they were doing was a divine assignment for which they were called into the world. Earlier on in their careers, they could have abandoned the teaching profession to move on to more rewarding trade in the private and public sectors. They could have easily picked up jobs in several other agencies of government or as many of their peers at the time did- moved into buying and selling of products- the traditional business of our people.
Even while common sense dictated that abandoning a profession that paid a pittance at irregular intervals was the right thing to do, a certain inner voice kept telling them that they were born to “do this.”
Truly they enjoined teaching, the privilege of being a part of people’s life story, they were in pain each time they realised that the new month had already gone midway and yet- not mention of the previous month’s salary.
They wept each time circumstances forced them to borrow, to knock on doors to ask for favours from relatives or ask to be given more time to pay back on a debt. More tragically, it pained them each time they were unable to immediately meet the needs of their young family, each time they had to tell any of us to wait till month end before XYZ could be fixed, you could see that they wished things were different.
They were devastated at the end of each year when it hit them that they could still not complete the housing project they started several years before. It pained them when they could not fix the small car because any expenditure on the tiny Mazda would mean a reduction in the amount budgeted for food. They would rather die than see us starve.
But their resolve to make sure there was food on the table was never enough to guarantee sufficient supply of food. There were countless times when the source of the next meal was unclear, when we ate beans although we would have preferred rice but had to eat beans because that was the only thing available.
There were times when kerosene finished in the middle of making a meal and we had to switch to the use of firewood or scamper into the neighbourhood in search of where to buy a few litres. We had countless moments when we wished our parents earned more, had more and that we had greater economic freedom.
My father was a meticulous man. He loves to plan, to articulate and to budget realistically. But even for such a man who left nothing to chance, he found himself very helpless when there was distortion in his income flow owing to the refusal of successive governments to make paying salaries to teachers a priority.
My father budgeted based on 30-day earning calendar- anticipating that he would receive a certain inflow every 30 days. When that projection became unrealistic after several years of disappointment, be expanded the cycle to reflect a 45 day pay structure.
We was again failed by the government as they moved the cycle further- was it 60 days, was it 90 days, 120, 150? Things became increasingly difficult and this meticulous man could no longer keep track of things.
Nothing the government did waned my father’s enthusiasm in teaching nor daunted my mother’s commitment to her job. Every morning they woke up at 5, boil water in large kettle, wake us up, prepare breakfast and get everyone ready for school.
My father would after his morning prayers roll through the FM and AM channels on his transistor radio to find out what was happening in the world he lived in. He never wanted to be caught unawares, he knew his students and colleagues would be waiting each morning in the classroom and staffroom, he knew random friends who visit him would want to know what was happening in the polity; as a rule, he knew he could not afford to fail or give them stale information.
In addition to listening to BBC, VOA, IBC, BCA and several local and international news channels, he would always squeeze out an extra cash to buy whatever daily or weekly publication was sold in the vicinity then. He wanted to be kept abreast of every development- like a proper teacher would.
In the end my father knew that a teacher is a dealer in knowledge, that for a teacher- ignorance on matters of the day is not an option.
After so many years of struggles and trying, he managed to build his house, put his four children through school and is now retired. He never accumulated much but he is contented- satisfied that he had the privilege of impacting on the lives of so many, of giving hope to those in despair, of encouraging children from poor homes to aim for the sky, assuring them that education was their passport to a better life.
A lot has changed between my father’s days and Buhari’s Nigeria. It is a shame that things turned out they way they did.
The children who heard from my father that they “are the leaders of tomorrow” are still wondering when that tomorrow would come. A lot of them followed my father’s advice to give their all to learning- but sadly- most of those young men (and women) have been unable to find the Eldorado my father assured them that education guaranteed. It’s been tales of endless hustles, hits and misses.
It is a shame that in many states today, payment of teachers’ salary has been relegated to the backburner. From Abia to Kogi, Benue to Osun, Ekiti to Imo, many teachers have been forced to abandon the classrooms to become okada riders, house and land agents, political party agents or salesmen at betting joints, beer parlour attendants and whatever it is that can put food on the table.
Yes- vocations are important but a man’s primary obligation is to feed and provide for his family. When he is handicapped in performing this all-important obligation- he is bound as a matter of duty- to do whatever has to be done- to make sure he is the man in his home.
My father’s Nigeria is gone- along with the dreams he once had. But as he told me recently- a teacher he would always be- till death.
Happy teachers’ day Papa.