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Primary school | Zikoko!
  • QUIZ: Can You Make It to the End of This Primary 6 Math Quiz?

    May the force be with you.

    110 divided by 10 is:

  • Why You Should Go Back to Primary School

    Primary school may have stressed you out at the time, but now that you’re older and wiser (and have experienced small capitalism), you’re actually best equipped to kill it.

    You can come first this time

    Primary School

    When you brag to your kids about coming first when you were in their class, this time, it won’t be a lie.

    Nobody can beat you

    Primary School

    Your teachers will be dragging age with you so the fear you had for them once won’t even exist. Even if you don’t do your homework, they’ll only beg you to do the next one.

    Automatic prefectship

    Primary School

    There’s no way you’ll be in a class with a couple of 10-year-olds, and you won’t be made senior prefect. You are the oldest, smartest, and most mature, so why not?

    You get to have an actual break time every weekday

    Primary School

    Playing around during break time without a worry in the world was amazing. Wouldn’t it be nice to experience it again?

    You need rest

    Primary School

    You’re getting old and Nigeria has stressed you enough. Primary school was when you had the most rest. It’s time to go back to maximise it.

    You don’t have to buy clothes

    Primary School

    Uniform >>> You now have the perfect excuse not to spend money on clothes. Don’t thank me; I do it out of the goodness of my heart.

    You need colour in your life 

    Source: Guardian.ng

    One thing primary school classes always have going for them is the great interior decor. The colourful paintings and bags all over the walls is exactly what you need.

    Speaking of paintings, you finally get the chance to have fun sip and paint sessions at HERtitude 2023. Click here to get your tickets.

  • 10 Things Every Rich Kid Had in Primary School

    As adults, we can tell rich people from their designer brands and minimalist aesthetic. But in primary school, we had to look out for these things:

    Cortina shoes 

    This was the Nike of those days. The rich kids would wear this with long white socks. 

    Glasses 

    You can’t even deny you envied your classmates who wore glasses because they were the ultimate rich kid indicator, especially when it came with ropes. 

    Rolling bags

    Only the bad bitches of primary school had this bag, while the others took turns helping her roll the bag. 

    Cartoon lunch box

    Their lunch boxes had to be from a popular Disney or Cartoon Network cartoon.

    Fancy stationery cases

    Basic where? 

    G-shock watch 

    These watches had them feeling like Ben 10. 

    Shamballa bracelets 

    Even though it was probably not even allowed in school. 

    Juice box 

    Whether it was Ribena, Bobo or Capri-Sonne, they sha always leave home with a juice box. We’re convinced that’s where the Capri-Sonne addiction started. 

    They had drivers 

    Do we still need to explain this one?

    Check their notes 

    This was the birth of minimalism. If their notes were wrapped in transparent wrapping papers instead of calendar sheets and newspapers, just know they’re filthy rich.  


    READ NEXT: The Worst Primary School Lies You’ve Ever Told — From the Liars 

  • QUIZ: Only Millennials Can Get 10/12 on This Primary School Assembly Song Quiz

    Millennials won’t find it hard to complete the lyrics of these primary school assembly songs.

    Give it a try:

  • QUIZ: Only People Who Went to Primary School Can Get 7/10 on This General Knowledge Quiz

    If you are sure your school fees did not waste, get 7/10 in this quiz.

    How many planets are in the solar system?

    Which of these colours is a colour of the rainbow?

    Where is the coldest region in the world?

    Which of these is not a city?

    Who was Nigeria’s first president?

    Which of these is the most suitable soil for planting?

    Which of these is not a continent?

    Which of these rivers is the longest river in Africa?

    What are people who live in Igloos called?

    What instrument is used to measure rainfall?

  • QUIZ: Do You Know The Plural Of These Words Or Did Your School Fees Waste?

    We hate it break it to you but if you can’t get the plural of these words before the timer runs out, your school fees wasted.

  • 8 Annoying Things About Living Next To A Primary School

    Whatever you do, please don’t make the costly mistake of renting an apartment next to a primary school. It might sound like a very odd advice, but here are some of the things you are definitely going to experience.

    1. First of all, say goodbye to your morning sleep.

    15 Things You'll Get If You've Ever Been A Nigerian Man's Side Chick |  Zikoko!

    Assembly starts by 8. God help you if you are still in bed by that time. “Good morning Jesus, good morning Lord” will wake you up. And if it doesn’t, their drumming will do the work. Something must sha wake you up.

    2. Expect to hear daily recitation of the multiplication tables.

    Two times one two, two times two four, two times three six, etc. This is just the beginning. They will most likely recite it up to multiplication table six. And if you’re really unlucky, they will do it to twelve. If you have a morning meeting, please shut your windows and mute your mic before your employers think your side hustle is a job as a primary school teacher.

    3. States and capitals will come next.

    You would think leaving primary school has made you escape this. Until you rent an apartment and there is a primary school right next to you. By force by fire, you will learn that the capital of Abia is Umuahia. If you like yourself, better join them to recite it. You don’t know if you’ll be asked to recite state and capital at your next job interview. Who knows, you might be asked to recite it at the visa office so they can be sure you will return to Nigeria.

    4. THE CRYING NEVER STOPS.

    Prepare yourself for this. There is a moment of silence after the assembly and recitation is over. But after that silence comes a lot of crying that will destabilise you. The teacher will beat a pupil or a pupil will fight another pupil or a child will cry because their demands isn’t being met. It’s the ghetto.

    5. Expect to be a teacher too.

    Not that you’ll go and apply oh, but after listening to them everyday, you will soon start to teach along with the teacher. If the teacher is an olodo who is teaching the children rubbish, you will fight the urge to go over to the school and correct them. But you can’t, so you’ll stay in your room and correct them when they say that September has 31 days. “30 days hath September!”

    6. The good side of it is that living next to a primary school brings you closer to God.

    How To Make Your Destiny Helper Locate You Before 7 Days | Zikoko!

    When they are doing their morning assembly, you will join them from your room. And let’s not even lie, the praise and worship do usually slap. Especially if the drummer acts like a possessed child. Regebosh!

    7. You also get to gain “useless” information that will come in handy.

    For example, you won’t ever forget the national anthem or the pledge, since you are always hearing them sing it everyday. And if you like, forget it. When it is time for the government to share eNaira to citizens who can recite the national anthem, you kuku will not collect anything.

    8. And finally, living next to a primary school is the ultimate way to know if you actually like children.

    fave-bros | Zikoko!

    If you can endure them without changing apartment, then congratulations. You have fought a great battle.

    [donation]

  • QUIZ: Are You Smarter Than A Primary 6 Student?

    If you don’t make it to the end of this quiz, just return your school fees to your parents.

    If you fail a question, the entire quiz ends.

  • QUIZ: Can You Make It To The End Of This Primary School Music Quiz?

    Make it to the end of this primary school music quiz to prove you weren’t sleeping in class.

    If you fail a question, the entire quiz ends.

    What instrument is this?

  • QUIZ: How Many Primary School Subjects Can You Handle?

    Do you think you’re smarter than a Primary school student? This quiz knows this answer:

    QUIZ: 11 Fun Trivia Quizzes For The Efikos Among Us

    Are you a smarty pants or not? Take this quiz.

    [donation]

  • QUIZ: Can You Score 8/13 On This Primary School C.R.K Quiz?

    How well do you remember these primary school CRK questions? Find out by taking this quiz:

  • QUIZ: If You Get 12/20 On This Quiz, You Were Annoying In Primary School

    If up to 12 things on this list apply to you, you were very annoying in primary school.

    Check all that apply to you:

  • QUIZ: Can You Score 7/10 On This Primary School Art Quiz?

    Get at least 7 questions right on this art quiz to prove you’re smarter than a primary school student.

  • 5 Nigerians Talk About Being Initiated Into Witchcraft Through Food

    Are you even Nigerian if your parents didn’t tell you not to collect food from strangers, classmates, neighbours, because they didn’t want you to be initiated into witchcraft?

    Because I was interested in knowing if anybody ever got initiated, I put out a call for stories. Here are the answers I got.

    Emem.

    I was 6 at the time, and a new student in Primary 2. My seat partner was a girl called Oyiza. Becoming her seat partner meant that her best friend had to move to another seat, and she hated it. It soon became a serious issue, very serious that teachers had to intervene. They made us ‘hug it out’ in front of the whole class.

    I was skeptical of the ‘hug’ as a solution to everything. Oyiza had been mean towards me, she tore my notes, lied against me, and hugging her was the right solution? But they were our teachers and they knew best, so I went along with it. The next day, Oyiza brought me candy.

    In retrospect, I shouldn’t have taken it. But we were turning a new leaf, so I collected it and licked. My weird dreams began that night. In the dreams, I was being sent to retrieve bones and skulls for a skeleton queen. And there was a condition: I had to arrive on time or I would die at the end of the mission. The dreams went on for three more days before they stopped. For a while after that, whenever I wished something bad on people, like sickness, it would happen.

    This was when I became convinced that I’d been initiated, I became scared and confessed to my parents. They took me for deliverance and I missed school for a week. When I returned, Oyiza had transferred out of our school.

    Mirabel.

    This happened back when my parents needed someone to stay with their younger children while they were away at work. My mother spoke to her relatives and they brought someone from the village, a young girl whose age I can’t remember now. She was older than me and my twin sister, but we were very young, so she wasn’t that old. Perhaps in her late teens. She would cook, and do the necessary things, but most importantly, she looked after us (me, my twin, and my younger brother) while our parents were away at work. Naturally, we were close to her. After all, she was the only older figure in the house with us.

    One day, we were playing in the house and she carried one of our teddy bears and said she would use it to communicate with her boyfriend, Kelvin. Right there, she started talking in a very weird voice.

    “Kelvin, Kelvin, I summon you!”

    We thought it was a joke, that she was play-acting to entertain us. But she wasn’t. She told us she was sending him madness. It didn’t exactly make sense to us, but nobody pressed her further. Now, there was this other lady in our apartment block who was friends with our maid, and who, in our maid’s later confession, happened to be a witch too. One day, they were both licking ice cream. The lady offered it to me and my sister. I’ve always had a sweet tooth, so I collected it and licked, but my twin sister refused.

    Not long after, things started to go bad in the family. Money issues, and my parents were fighting a lot, so my mother attended a prayer meeting with the maid. I wasn’t taken along, but it was during this prayer meeting that she confessed.

    In the story that we were told by my mother, the plan was to initiate me and my twin, but according to her confession, our orisa ibeji was too strong for her to penetrate. We went for deliverance after that, and she was sent back to the village.

    Dorcas.

    I was 3 and we had a housemaid, Aunty Lara. My mum had always warned that I let her know whatever I eat or I’m given outside, but one day, I took a stroll with Aunty Lara and she bought me fried fish. She asked me not to tell anyone, but I told my mum about the fish. Aunty Lara was angry, and I apologized because she really liked me a lot.

    I slept in my parents’ room that night. When I woke up in the middle of the night to pee, I saw different types of birds trying to take me away. I screamed, and my parents woke up and began to pray and call Holy Ghost Fire. I kept screaming. Eventually, “fire” caught one of the birds and it melted on the floor. Then the rest disappeared. That was when Aunty Lara knocked on the door. The conclusion my parents drew was that I was to be initiated with the fried fish. I went for deliverance, Aunty Lara too. But deliverance or not, she had to leave our house. Life continued, I grew older, we relocated and I forgot all about it.

    About 10 years later, I went to visit my family friends who took over that house from us. When I went into the room where the incident happened, I saw the stain from the melted bird. So I asked them, “You people didn’t clean this stain?” and they said “What stain?”

    Apparently, I was the only one who could see it. My mother swears Aunty Lara was really a witch who confessed that she wanted to initiate me. But which African mother won’t? I’m not even religious now, and I have psychosis. It’s a condition that affects the way your brain processes information, and it causes you to lose touch with reality. You might see, hear, or believe things that aren’t real. So, while my mother confirms the incident, it could just have been my mind in a state, because to me, there’s no logical explanation for the whole incident.

    Anjola.

    My father was abusive. He often hit me and my mother, and one day I told this girl, my classmate, that I was having problems at home. I didn’t know about her; I just needed someone to share my story with and she was available. One day, she told me that she could give me something that would help me do anything to my dad because he was the root of the problems. All I just had to do was eat whatever she brought for me. I wanted to be done with my father’s abuse, so I agreed. I was 8, same as the girl.

    She started bringing boiled egg, boiled plantain, banana, eko (agidi), moin moin. I ate it for like a week and then she told me that after school the following day, I would follow her to a place where I would be given the powers. I said okay. I didn’t want my mother to be worried if I came home late the next day, so when I got home that Thursday, I asked for permission to follow the girl. That was when my mother started asking questions and I answered everything. My mother beat the hell out of me. She said, “So you want to be a witch? You want to be a witch, abi?”

    After beating me, she took me to a church where they did deliverance for me, white-garment style. They lit coloured candles around me, burned incense and told me to kneel down inside the circle of candles. Then they flogged me with a broom, and gave me something to drink. I vomitted for two days straight.

    By the time I was going back to school, my mum told me to avoid the girl. I didn’t want to, so I went and tried to talk to her, but she was running away from me. The next day she didn’t come to school and that was the last I heard of her.

    Yetunde.

    I wasn’t initiated but I came very close. This is why I dislike Amala till date.

    I was 7 or 8 then, and we had a housegirl. She was about 16. My mum was pregnant and she needed extra hands since me or my siblings weren’t old enough to assist her, so she reached out to her friend who brought the girl. My father enrolled her in school, and her duties were to prepare our meals, clean the house and assist the cleaning lady to wash our clothes. I often joined her to do whatever she thought I could handle, and we soon became so close that I started to follow her about. I was young and gullible, and I had no sister figure, so she filled that gap.

    But my father soon began to suspect her. Her spirit, he said, was antagonising his. He is a traditionalist, and sometimes calls himself a herbalist, so he knows things. He kept the suspicions to himself; I think he wanted to have concrete evidence.

    And then my dreams began. In it, a cloaked figure was always trying to grab me, but just before it happened, I would blurt out “Jesus! Jesus!” and be jolted awake. I thought I could handle it, so I never told anyone. Once, I told her about the dreams, but she didn’t look fazed. I did not read any meaning into this.

    Until the night she served Amala. That night, my mum told her to prepare Amala for the house. When she was done, she dished everyone’s portions in separate plates as always. But for the first time, she specified which food was mine and which one belonged to my siblings. That was what spiked my father’s suspicion.

    He told her to serve him my food instead but she insisted that the food was meant for me and no one else. My dad insisted too, and she declined vehemently. According to her, the portion she dished was the size I always ate. I didn’t see the big deal, but it was already becoming an argument. Finally, my dad ate the food, and she became angry.

    When he ate the food, my father felt something in his body. But whatever it was, it didn’t work on him, because he wasn’t her target. That was when she began to shout that the food was for me and not my father. She was hysterical. She confessed that she put something inside my Amala, and that the food was the last stage of my initiation. She confessed that she went to meetings too. It then clicked that she was the reason for the dreams because the meeting days coincided with the days I had those dreams. Her luggage was checked, and we found some of my personal items, including my hair comb.

    My father can tell a more detailed story about this period. But I don’t want to ask him because it would bring back memories. Since that time though, he has been very protective of me. And we never employed another housegirl after that.


  • QUIZ: Only Nigerians Above 25 Can Score 13/15 In This Primary School Song Quiz

    If you attended a Nigerian primary school then this quiz should be a breeze for you.

    Give it a try below:


  • QUIZ: Do You Remember The Macmillan Primary English Books?

    For anyone who attended primary school in Nigeria, ‘Macmillan Primary English Course’ books were everything at the time. Now, we want to see if those memorable stories (and characters) stayed in your brain at all.

    Give it a shot:

  • Can You Score 13/13 In This Primary School Math Test Without Pressing A Calculator?

    How many of you were math gurus in primary school? Come forward and show us if you still have it in you.


  • QUIZ: Can You Handle Primary 5 Verbal Reasoning?

    Last month, we did a Quantitative Reasoning quiz that wasn’t nearly as easy as people expected it to be. Now, we’re back with something less stressful: Verbal Reasoning. Let’s see if you can answer these questions meant for Primary 5 students.

    Go ahead:

  • QUIZ: Do You Know The Authors Of These Classic Nigerian Books?

    For everyone who went to primary and secondary school in Nigeria, there are a few books that are considered classics. From Without a Silver Spoon to The Bottled Leopard, these books defined our childhood. Now, we want to see if you remember the authors behind 12 of them.

    Take the test to prove yourself:

  • QUIZ: Are You Smart Enough For Primary 5 Quantitative Reasoning?

    Quantitative Reasoning was one of the most frustrating primary school subjects. Thankfully, we are much older and wiser now. So, we’ve created a quiz with real primary 5 questions to see if this cursed subject can still stress us as much as it used to.

    Take to find out:

  • I Attended Schools With The Children Of Bank Executives, My Mother Was A Cleaner.
    Illustration by Celia Jacobs

    To get a better understanding of Nigerian life, we started a series called ‘Compatriots’, detailing the everyday life of the average Nigerian. As a bi-weekly column, a new installment will drop every other Tuesday of the month, exploring some other aspect of the Nigerian landscape.

    In this article, we had a peephole view into the life of a Nigerian whose primary and secondary schooling experiences were marred by the simple fact that he was from a sphere of life entirely different from that of his peers.

    My formative years were spent navigating life in primary and secondary schools, filled with the children of parents whose combined incomes could easily fund the running of a small country.

    As the child of parents whose determination to provide the fineries of life was marred only by a glaring financial incapacity to do so, this afforded me a double education of sorts. On one hand, I grasped the rudiments of arithmetic, civics and the like. And on the other — I was made privy to a very, very practical approach on just how class-systems worked.

    I had easily one of the best purely educational experiences money could buy, and I say this not in an overly sentimental ‘I love my school’ kind of way. My primary school, with its adjoining secondary institution, surely cracks any list recognising top academic performers in Lagos State, or maybe even Nigeria (but this might be the sentiment creeping in). Its (needless) nationally exclusionary syllabus boasted a mix of British and American curricula, or something of the sort – which made it a fly trap for the children of CEOs, bank executives, Consul Officers and other officials whose hyphenated positions only served to underscore the importance of their roles.

    Equally enamoured by the prospect of a school that promised international learning at your back door, was my mother. Now, by no contortion of reality was she in the same league as CEOs and bank execs. Throughout the duration of my elementary and secondary schooling, she served as a cleaner in an incredibly ornate high-rise apartment complex within the vicinity of my schools. From there, she would make, what I I can only imagine was a constantly harrowing daily trip, past manicured lawns and fortified estate gates, to our sparsely furnished home in one of the lesser known shanties of Lagos State.

    Perhaps this spurred the determination that her last child have a fighting chance at a better life. Resolute, she sourced for support for my education in the multi-levelled complex which she cleaned. Finding and spreading sponsors across its many floors like confetti. Thus began my journey as a shanty boy, rubbing shoulders with the spawn of the high and mighty of society.

    Having a chance to look back at it, it’s a bit of a marvel how children, yet to fully comprehend the notions of good and evil, or even the three-times table, can so unreservedly grasp the concept of shame without any outside assistance.

    I’ve never been able to pinpoint the exact moment I knew for a fact, that there was something that made me distinct from my peers. But it was always the little things that set me off.

    It was in the way my mates in primary school appeared pristine to class every morning, not a hair out of place, or a sweat broken, during their commute from air-conditioned home to air-conditioned chauffeur-driven car, straight into the school premises. I, on the other hand, was sure to make an appearance, a little slick with sweat, shirt most likely untucked, with socks just begging to tell the tale of how my 13-minute (unaccompanied) walk to school, made friends of the dirt and sand along the way.

    It was noticing, in Year 4, during that great stationery transition ⁠— how my Bic pen, with paper rolled into the tube proudly announcing your name, surname and class, differed greatly from that of my peers. Whose fountain, ballpoint and fluffy-headed gel pens added an extra flourish to writing, that the stain-happy Bic pen, just couldn’t.

    It was even in the timbre of their voices. These children, who barely scratched the surface of adolescence, had a certainty of self and a rapport with teachers, I can only imagine was lubricated by being surrounded by, and giving direction to, armies of domestic staff. Whereas they had no reservations letting the teacher know where they had trailed off, or asking to have a missed point repeated; I was resolutely mute. Almost looking for permission to exist within the classroom.

    It was listening in on conversations that centred round children programmes only available on satellite televisions and feeling like my peers were speaking in another language. One which needed an Ikoyi- club membership and a minimum two-person domestic staff to understand.

    But sometimes, it was in the big things.

    Like a teacher laughingly requesting that I put my hands down, after instructing that all last-born children in class raise their hands during an exercise. My kind of ‘last born’ wasn’t the sort being referred to.

    Or having to feign disinterest for the umpteenth time, in school excursions that might as well have required pounds of flesh in payment.

    The very many humiliating instances of  being pulled out of class to answer for late fee payments. There was being invited to the homes of my peers for birthday celebrations and feeling like I had taken a left from earth and somehow landed in The Emerald City. Houses with corridors big enough to envelop the entirety of my home, that included dogs held as voluntary inhabitants, and not resilient strays you had to shoo away for picking your home as a marked spot.

    It was being relegated to the service quarters in the apartment complex where my mother cleaned, while my peers (who lived in the flats), freely traipsed about the community.

    It was always managing to stick out somehow in class photographs, no matter how much I laundered my uniform the day before.

    It was a perpetual inability to fit in.

    By secondary school, when adolescence multiplied self-awareness and embarrassment  to the Nth degree, I had learned to reserve the whole truth when asked about my mother’s profession. Substituting her role as cleaner, for the more  non-committal ‘worker’ in the buildings. An act for whose memory still makes me recoil.

    Resumption weeks came to be dreaded. When stories of those who travelled abroad and had international hang-outs were freely swapped. Somehow, I knew my tales of transforming Lagos’ beaches into second homes with my friends, wouldn’t quite have made the cut.

    My battles with esteem raged on during those years. Mornings, afternoons and evenings were hard. On several occasions, I fantasised about transferring to the public schools my neighbours in our shanty community attended. Where group walks to school wouldn’t be viewed as odd. Where no one would hide a snigger, while pointing out the fact that I had outgrown the uniform I honestly considered a better fit from the only other ill-fitting unit at home. Neither of which could be replaced for obvious financial reasons.

    A school where I wouldn’t have to smile through students expressing fake-worry at the additional letters my ‘designer’ footwear sported, when kitting up for recreational activities in school.

    But watching me, you would never have guessed.

    To the outside observer, I was a spunky teen in class. Quick with retorts to anything that bordered on absolute disrespect to myself or my family’s station in life. Admirable athletic ability and some intelligence, or enough intelligence that it didn’t pose additional ammo for my already blood-thirsty colleagues. When in reality, I was constantly riddled with self-doubt, anxiety and shame.

    This is not to say I had nothing but a nightmarish experience in school. For all the bad, it was almost completely countered by the lifelong relationships I forged with classmates who didn’t consider status in life, a caveat for fostering friendships. I’d also be remiss to ignore the great educational impact the school had in my life, while simultaneously exposing me to students whose ways of life, travels and experiences broadened any knowledge I could probably have hoped to gain, relating only with my ilk.

    But was I glad to finally see the back of it, to attend a more socially-representative university? You can not imagine the relief.

    *Locations and specific experiences have been tweaked to protect the identity of the narrator.

  • I’m walking home on a rather sunny evening, thinking about how I’m going to acquire my lamborghini, when I notice 2 kids who seem to be having a good time.

    Okay boy’s don’t forget talk to about what aunty taught you in school today.

    I decide to keep minding my business, since it seemed like a harmless gathering.

    “Let me be fast before these children come and ask me 2×2 that I don’t even remember”

    After increasing my pace, I had to pause when I heard one of them say “your daddy is a bombastic element”

    And the next kid replies; “You mean my daddy? it’s my own father you’re calling bombastic”

    I took a few steps back, and tried to ask..

    ..what’s going on here boys?

    It’s this American dustbin that called my own father a bombastic element, my father !

    Wawu this is getting serious o. But why did you say that to him?

    Haa aunty this boy is a Jabajantis stupendus liar.

    Meee! Ohh my life

    We were just playing oh, that’s how he said my head is like watermelon. Then I abused his daddy.

    Small abuse and he is now angry, rubbish

    Meanwhile, their noise had attracted all the kids on the street.

    Oyaa continue

    This boy is just an Unflushable toilet. Can’t you see his head? Was I lying aunty?

    The other kids were already shouting ‘yeeeeeee’

    Since I was the only old person there, I tried to counsel them.

    Everybody, just calm down, it’s not good to fight, if you fight you will go to hell fire.

    While I was being a saviour, one of the kids said ” this aunty is a nonsense and ingredient konkorbility, who put her mouth? “

    wait, but, what? what did I do?

    They all started laughing at me, and then I realised I had overstayed my welcome.

    I took a long miserable walk of shame back home.

    I wondered if they were alright, but realised even I wasn’t alright for not minding my business.

  • 12 Thoughts You Had When You Didn’t Do Your Homework In School

    1. You, when it’s almost closing time on Friday and your class teacher has not mentioned ‘home work’

    My weekend is going to be sweet!

    2. You, when the teacher now announces there’ll be maths and English homework for the weekend

    How did this teacher remember?

    3. When you get home and try to do it, but inner you reminds you there’s plenty of time

    Inner You : “My friend go and watch all the TV you’ve not watched since Monday jor”

    4. When your mum calls you to do it on Saturday and you’re like

    Mummy, please don’t disturb me o!

    5. When it’s time to do it on Sunday, but you just finished Sunday rice so:

    Let me quickly sleep small jare.

    6. When you now wake up at 10 pm and everyone in the house is asleep

    I have done myself o!

    7. You, when NEPA takes the light just as you’re about to start your homework

    Why is the devil testing me?

    8. When you now start dreaming that your class teacher is caning you because of the homework

    Hay God!

    9. When you’re rushing to do the homework in the morning and your mum catches you

    “Shebi I told you to do it since?”

    10. When you get to school and one oversabi reminds the teacher of the assignment

    But who asked you?

    11. You, serving punishment with your other lazy classmates

    See my life.

    12. Next time the inner you tries to convince you to do your homework later, you’re like

    Don’t kobalize me, please.
  • 1. When the teacher makes both of you sit close to each other during a class activity.

    2. When they share their snacks with you at break time.

    3. When they chase only you when it’s time to play “catcher”

    4. When you fight and they write your name on the list of noisemakers and add “times 7”.

    5. When they start being friendly with people other than you.

    6. When they ask you to help them give out cake and party packs on their birthday.

    7. When they call you one of their best friends!

    8. When they tell you they like someone else.

  • 13 Reasons Suicide Squad Was Just Like Secondary School
    After watching Suicide Squad, we found ourselves comparing a lot of the characters and scenarios to secondary school. So we decided to share 13 ways the movie brought back those secondary school memories:

    1. The class teacher

    Whether she likes you or not, she will still punish and stress you for no reason.

    2. The class captain

    Always writing names of noisemakers and doing as if he is better than everybody.

    3. The most popular boy in class

    He has all the jokes and everyone wants to be his friend.

    4. The problem child

    Always in trouble and tormenting students and staff alike with his mischief. The only person that can talk to him is his girlfriend.

    5. The fighter

    One day one trouble. She is ready to beat any and everybody over anything.

    6. The big scary guy

    No one knows if it is that he is just huge or he has repeated like 3 times. Only says about 3 words a day.

    7. The hottest babe in class

    Very crazy but she gets a pass because she is fine and her boyfriend is even more crazy than her.

    8. The immature one

    Everything is a joke. Always shining teeth around the school campus.

    9. The anti-social one

    Doesn’t really want to be anyone’s friend or talk to anyone. The class isn’t even that sure of his name.

    10. The motivational speaker

    He is always using every opportunity to preach whether or not anyone asked him.

    11. The goth chick

    She is always studying about witchcraft and funny things like that. Has no friends.

    12. The class picture

    Everybody in their element!

    13. When a rival secondary school class tries to come for them, they’re like:

    Best friends … for now!
  • 15 Pictures That Will Give You Serious Common Entrance Flashbacks

    1. The common entrance book of life:

    Ugo C. Ugo for the win.

    2. When your school forces everyone to do mock exams to prepare.

    Don’t add to my stress.

    3. When your parents force you to attend one local common entrance lesson:

    What is all this?

    4. When you ask your parents for a new math set and they start asking you JAMB questions.

    “What about the one we bought for you 4 years ago?”

    5. How you look at Primary 4 students that want to follow you and do common entrance too:

    Wait your turn biko.

    6. You, jacking the Friday before your common entrance like:

    Secondary school is my portion.

    7. How you see the maths and quantitative common entrance questions:

    Wetin be dis?

    8. You, waking up on the Saturday of common entrance like:

    The day has arrived.

    9. You, looking for your friends when you get to your common entrance centre:

    Where are my people?

    10. How you stroll into your centre with 12 extra pencils and 10 biros:

    My body is ready.

    11. When you see them repeat questions you crammed in your Ugo C. Ugo.

    WINNING!

    12. You, when the invigilator starts dictating answers for some of the students.

    Ah! Is it like that?

    13. You, waiting for your parents to come and pick you from the centre when it’s over:

    I want to go oh.

    14. When your result finally comes out and you passed the cut-off mark.

    YES LORD!

    15. Your face, when you remember you still have interviews to do:

    Hay God! It’s not over.
  • This Post Will Take Every Nigerian Right Back To Their Primary School Assembly Ground

    1. When your parents drop you late for assembly and just drive off.

    They will now punish you in school as if you’re the one in charge of logistics.

    2. When the short pupils hear “line up according to your height”:

    Ugh! The worst.

    3. “Hands up, down. Hands forward straight. Hands on your neighbour’s shoulder.”

    The struggle to create space.

    4. The wahala you enter when you forget to bring this book:

    You’re dead.

    5. You, hustling to beat the drum on the assembly ground.

    Best part of the assembly.

    6. How you sing the national anthem when the headmistress is looking at you:

    Cannot come and chop cane.

    7. When you first learnt it wasn’t actually “Arise O COMPASSION”:

    Say what?

    8. When they flog you on the assembly ground and you chest it.

    You’re now the celebrity of the day.

    9. When they start inspecting for students with long fingernails.

    It’s all over.

    10. When they announce your name to wait behind after assembly.

    I’m dead.

    11. Primary school teachers, when they see a student that is not wearing white socks:

    They have seen who they will beat.

    12. Marching back to class after assembly like:

    This is still how we remember the spelling of hippopotamus

    13. The song everyone sings on the last assembly of the term:

    The song we sang the loudest.
  • 13 Things You’ll Remember About Having Your Birthday In Primary School

    1. How you feel when your birthday doesn’t fall on a school day:

    The pain.

    2. You, turning up to school in your mufty like:

    SLAY!

    3. The official birthday hairstyle:

    Christmas was the only other time you’d see this hairstyle.

    4. How your classmates look at you when you enter with cake.

    Turn Up!

    5. When people that have never spoken to you start forming best friend.

    Shift biko.

    6. The official birthday starter pack:

    Add Capri-sonne for some extra love.

    7. Your classmates, waiting for break time to come so you can share the cabin.

    Longest wait ever.

    8. How your teacher cuts their own cake:

    Chai!

    9. When your teacher still finds a reason to flog you.

    Where is your conscience?

    10. When they make you take pictures with all your classmates.

    Ugh! Can we eat already?

    11. You, picking the people that will get extra party packs.

    Come forward and be judged.

    12. When they start threatening you with “I won’t be your friend again”.

    Ehn be going na.

    13. Your classmates, when they see you the next day:

    Wow! Is it like that?