Monday morning opens door of a new session on a gleeful note for the excited mid-teen students. Pleasantries traded in hilarity swept through almost every classroom inch. It seemed freedom had begun heeding their entreaties. Stepping up to the next grade was a reminder of proximity to life without parental decrees.

Miss Theresa Mayozi, garbed in her green-white-red polka-dotted gown accentuating a six-foot physique, took some minutes more to offload learning materials on the adjacent table.

“Good day! Everyone,” she greeted. The students responded, unimpressed by her mid-thirties appealing youth while reaching for their desks. Silence, though skepticism-sodden, pervaded.

Their previous grade teacher shared similar features but teacher-student interface thereafter enlightened them appearance isn’t reality. Miss Patricia negated her humility and friendliness they surmised. Wearing a lukewarm mask in mingling with Miss Theresa was the consensus.

“I am Miss Theresa Mayozi, your 10th grade teacher. I hope our academic journey together would be remarkable and memorable,” Miss Theresa introduced herself. Zest in her voice coincided with perplexity in her mind about lethargy of the students. She was, unknown to her, paying for another’s debt.

Shaking the hurdle off, Miss Theresa proceeded to scribble “History” on the whiteboard. “What’s your understanding of this concept?” She u-turned, inquiring from her audience seated mute for ages.

Thirty-two seconds passed. Finally, a hand rose to break the ice. Alvin, edified by those evening strolls alongside his ex-US army officer father with scars from Vietnam and Afghanistan, answered “History tells us about battles humans fought.”

Following, Gabriella—orphaned at two and bred by her novel-loving maternal grandmother—conquered the warring nerves within to contribute, “History deals with stories told about yesterday."

James, whose fleshy and rotund build earned him a “humpty-dumpty” nickname, added “History explains little we have on our plate today, because of much we didn’t prepare yesterday.” Knowledge of his marriage to food plunged other students into laughter. It overrode appreciation of metaphor permeating the answer, one sighted by Miss Theresa. She beamed a smile in gratitude for both the denotative attempt and comic relief.

As Miss Theresa quoted G.W.F. Hegel—“We learn from history that we do not learn from history”—to synthesize the contributions and as a preamble to her definition, gunshot sounds thundered from outside. “Everybody on the floor now,” she bellowed to the terrified students, squatting her way to ensure closed windows for threat mitigation.

The students drew her attention to Clara’s asthmatic crisis triggered by shock. She was breathing fast, gasping for air and slipping away. Miss Theresa’s experience from a stint in paramedics as a volunteer came in handy. She maintained calm and sought an inhaler from Clara’s multi-layered bag. Fear-laden screams from neighboring classrooms tensed the atmosphere further; varieties of causal speculations saturated.

“Hurry up, please,” Miley, Clara’s best friend, muttered in tears cascading down her cheeks. Finding the inhaler was relieving but its content insufficient. Clara planned to purchase a new one after school. The perturbed teacher resorted to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, it worked, stability ensued Clara’s deep breath.

Meanwhile, Gregory bled. Red droplets on the floor led to him. Miss Theresa raced to her handbag, reaching for a towel-like handkerchief to minimize the leak pending help’s arrival.
Mr. Maxwell, the principal’s secretary, wafted in. “We are on top of the situation. Everyone calm down. You are now safe,” he informed them. Heaves of relief echoed. It dawned on the students their first school day in a new grade could have been their last.

“Wait a minute, Maxwell,” disheveled Miss Theresa hurried to where he stood. Her enquiry about the pandemonium’s cause revealed an irate 9th grade student fired a two-round pistol at a fellow student—who fled and evaded burial with a leg bullet wound—and others within sight. Fortune was kind, the other bullet landed on a nearby wall before the student was besieged by security. “Nobody else was hurt,” he concluded.

Indeed, the high school did little in the preceding weeks to forestall this terror, given reports of pockets of fatal shooting in schools around the country. That was ample incentive to mount scanning devices at entry points or activate stronger security protocols. The management didn’t learn from history.

Forty minutes later, the principal, Dr. Catherine, toured classes, apologizing effusively and reassuring students of their safety. Miss Theresa’s students were particularly detailed, flooding the principal with tales of her proactive efforts when uncertainty stared. Again, their preconceptions were wrong.

©KON