A young lovely lady on Facebook known as Eve Onyedikachukwu has taken a touching story on her Facebook page the day she took her six primary exams or the general entrance test. After having taken her boy to his general entrance test hours before, she wrote this.
Many people have a lot to go through in life because if they don't speak up and tell you, you won't know. Her story is about the special treatments that children with a rich and affluent family get, the benefits they possess and the way poor children are treated. Money is wonderful, in fact, and one day we can all pray to make it in our lives! Read her comments below;
"I dried up my eyes for a few hours now, called a little encouragement and bravery to tell a story from my past life. (I'm very emotional right now, please forgive me the errors if any cos).
Earlier today, I went to the exam centre, where my boy went to write a Common Entrance Exam to inspect him. When I got there, I saw what I will call "Aje Butter" and the landscapes of "Aje Pako." My son's school and other private school classes that came to the exam offered children the utmost consideration and compassion in VIP treatment. Honestly, I have to admit that I enjoyed the teacher-pupil relationship.
In the meanwhile, it was a different story in the high school camp. In reality, you can clearly distinguish between those of private school and those of public school by looking at students who have attended the test. Though private school students were transported by bus to the centre, the others had to find their way to the centre.
When I came, I saw some students on the way to the exam centre who reminded me of the day when I took my own exam. I not only came late but I was also carrying a badly ripped school uniform, but I made sure it was clean. For yet another one, Cold Iron never touched my dress. There was iron in the kitchen, but I was still just 10yrs old, as a maid's limits had been set. I had a headache due to the razor cuts that I suffered when Madam rubbed my cheek. The sandals I wore that day, I still recall.
My mother wore old basket sandals when she was my age. I managed the sandals, which I knew were going to ruin, and that I was going to save for the day I was going to compose my common entrance, which was quickly approaching because I already knew no one was prepared for me to make it. I began to wear school slippers, but I was fined for them by the school officials. My slippers were confiscated but later returned to me after rolling on the floor of the office of the director. I never wear it again to school, but I began to trek barefoot to school. The day of the examination eventually arrived, as my classmates called it, I took out my "Nkita Ata Okpa." Whenever I wear the sandal, they always mocked me.
On my way to the exam centre on Wednesday morning, the sandals were eventually degraded. It slowed me down, but I needed all the way to my examination centre. The exam was about to begin when I arrived at the centre. Outside, I have seen my lecturer and a few teachers. "Why are you limping?" my teacher asked? Do you have a wound or something? No sandals were spoiled, I said. The other teachers asked because I did not wear any socks from my classroom.
My teacher replied to the question for me because she very well knows my background. She explained to the rest of the teachers how she paid me my common entry fee. It had been five hundred Naira. I got all manner of penalties for that money, but it wouldn't be paid by my guards until my instructor didn't do it. I didn't even come with the maths collection that we had been asked to purchase upon our arrival.
I saw the same thing in my child's exam centre after our break today. Private school students were all glamour tones, from their head-to-head dressing to their well-polished language. I was sitting in an envying corner. I wanted to be them, truly. You spoke and joked openly with your professors. I've been astonished because my school is never like that. The famine that I had that day was awful, my other students had food, money, and snacks. So now you know why I went to check on my guy, I arrived with nothing. I could see and listen from a distance to the other students speaking on my shaver head, ripped uniform and my sandals. It hurt me too much.
I promised that that day, no kid(s) I had ever experienced. But let me stay here now for now. I really can't believe that I'm alive today because I felt I was going to die, to write this because back then. Not only, but on many occasions, I tried to commit suicide. I still learn how people die to sleep at the time. For that, I have always desired. I always wake up every day and remind God why you woke me today. I always have a sigh.
Likewise, I wonder how I survived those difficult years, sometimes and now? All of them would start to make friends with me only because I can open my test paper to copy them. I had friends at school, even for the exams. I looked at the time still so miserable and under-nourished. Furthermore, I was a "Walking Skeleton," not just that. Except for me, God has done it. I lived. I survived. Not only that, but I just want you to know that any child servant who passes through the same process does not last." She added that. She added.
What's the story that you learn?
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