With my participation in elections out of the way, as I announced last week, my focus shifted to something more important: the school. Initially, I just wanted to let my actions speak for themselves and as such, for the whole of last week I was arriving in school early. I went around supervising school cleanliness and punished late comers.
In so doing, I expected that teachers would see for themselves and emulate me. I expected that they would arrive on time, attend classes, and leave late. Instead, they did exactly the opposite.
Last Monday and Tuesday, I arrived at the same time as Alex, the teacher on duty, and we worked together to ensure the school was ready for learning by 8am.
But on Wednesday, he arrived late and left early, leaving everything to me as if I were the teacher on duty. On Thursday, he arrived at around 10am, just in time for the ten o’clock tea.
“Thank you, Dre, but my time of arrival is a non-issue,” he said defensively. “Is there anything that went wrong because of my absence?”
He added that the school was clean and tidy, teachers were in classes while classes remained quiet.
“That is true, Alex,” I calmly told him. “But the school did not arrange itself, did it? Someone was there for all that to have happened, true?”
“That’s true, Dre, and I know you are the one. Thank you for the amazing work!”
“You are welcome, Alex. So you want me to do your work?”
“I did not want us issuing conflicting directives to students or to waste our time doing the same thing and confusing the students.”
“You may not have noticed it, but you were too bossy, ignored me, and even ordered a redo of some work I had approved,” he said. “You made the students think I have no idea what I was doing.”
I told him that was not my intention. “I only wanted the school to be sparkling clean. Anyway, I will not come early tomorrow. Please ensure all is well.”
I went back to my office and locked myself in to work hard. There was silence after the tea break when teachers went to class. But towards lunch time, as teachers streamed back to the staffroom, noise started. They were, as usual, discussing many things. And as you would expect, they started discussing politics.
“This thing is so hot. Did you hear the opinion poll that came out today said?” Posed Alex. “It looks like Baba is taking this thing.”
“Which Baba is taking what? Not possible,” said Sella. She said she will only support the side that ends CBC and promises changes at TSC. “Anyone not saying these things should forget about my vote,” she added.
The discussion continued for long, with everyone expressing themselves. The staffroom became noisier as more teachers came in for lunch. Soon ,they were discussing the governor’s race.
“I wish Oparanya had continued to be a governor,” said Lena, her bad hair in tow. “He has done a lot.”
“What has he done? Show me what he has done in Mwisho wa Lami,” said Kuya.
“You haven’t travelled, Kuya,” said Nzomo. “Walk around Kenya and see how nothing is happening in other counties. You will appreciate Oparanya.”
“I have not asked what other governors have not done. I asked what Oparanya has done,” said Kuya. Lena had no answer.
“Since Oparanya is not contesting, I will vote for Khalwale the bull fighter as governor,” said Sella.
“Khalwale is contesting for senator, not governor!” said Kuya. Several teachers argued with him. “You are all fools if you don’t know that Khalwale is not a gubernatorial candidate!”
That opened a war of words. “Who did you call fools, you stupid man?” asked Lena. “Never call me a fool me a fool, you stupid man.”
“And who are you calling stupid?” Asked Kuya, defending himself.
“You first called her a fool, actually, Kuya, you called all of us fools,” said Alex. “You will not abuse us and expect us to keep quiet.”
“I did not talk to you Alex, and I am not Dre that you talk back to. I am different, Alex. Very different.” It was getting ugly. I could not take this further and so I walked to the staffroom.
“Keep quiet, ladies and gentlemen. This is a staffroom, not Parliament or a market where you just make noise,” I said.
I asked that we meet shortly after lunch. In the meeting, I announced that going forward, I had banned politics from our staffroom: “We can discuss other things, but politics is a no-no!”
“Which circular are you referring to?” Kuya asked. “We have freedom of expression, and you have no powers to direct what we can talk about.”
“Outside the school, you can talk politics, but not in my school,” I held firm.
“When did it become your school? You were recently involved in politics, and no one stopped you despite us all knowing you would lose spectacularly,” said Kuya. “Do not bring us your frustrations.”
“It is true I wanted to be an MP and I would have won,” I told him. “But not even once did I discuss politics in school. Never.”
“Maybe we can discuss politics as long as we are not abusive and we respect each other,” suggested madam Ruth. “Calling each other stupid or fools will not work.”
“But if someone doesn’t even know the candidates, is that not stupid?” Asked Kuya.
All teachers told him off, and agreed with me that politics would be banned, as it was clear Kuya could not be civil.
