When the teacher's 'powerful' wand hurts

At the beginning of the year, I received news that one of my high school teachers had passed away. I was not sure how to react. Honestly, I did not feel the loss. I know we are supposed to look up to our teachers, but this one just brought out the worst in us.

One of my roommates has a scar to show for it. The teacher let loose her dog on my roommate, and ensured she did not adequate medical attention for two days for fear of being exposed.

Well, she got exposed eventually. My roommate’s mother heard about the incident and came to the school, screaming, and took her daughter to hospital.

The news of my former teacher’s death got me thinking. Teachers wield power over students. Maybe rightfully so, but that is a moot point.

I have always treated my son as an individual worthy of respect.

He has his own temperament, and I never try to make him be like anyone else, or what society has come to paint the model child.

Because of this, I assumed the same from other adults, teachers included. Until they wield their ‘powerful’ wand.

I had already noticed a change in attitude from his head teacher when I went to school during last year’s parents-teachers meeting.

The unsettling feeling had been on for over a year, and since I did not have tangible proof I could not act. Until it showed its ugly face.

One day, my son’s father sent money to the school for his uniform.

After the uniform had been bought, the boy asked the female teacher who accompanied him if he could keep the remaining Sh900 as pocket money.

The response he got was disturbing. He was called a devil by the head teacher herself for “thinking that the teacher cannot have such an amount of money.”

To make matters worse, when I tried to call him at our scheduled time (he was in boarding school), none of the teachers answered my calls.

I was frantic! When I was just about to go to the school to find out what could be wrong, one of the male teachers answered his phone and allowed me to speak with my son, who told me what happened.

He was sobbing. My son seldom cries and I was so upset.

That was emotional abuse, coming from someone who is the custodian of children rights — an adult, a teacher, a woman and a mother.

For a while, my son had been telling me that he did not want to be in that school, but I could not find a reason to remove him.

Then things started to fall in place.

Two years prior, one of the boys had a problem which the headteacher refused to solve even after some of the parents, mostly mothers, asked her to.

His mother was not happy and she removed her son from the school.

I was that mother two years later, and I do not agree with teachers who use their power to kill children’s spirits.