THE UNTOLD TALE OF GIRL X

As a theatre teacher, I have seen how Drama transformed the lives of many students; but there is this one story that I will never forget.

Girl x joins an international school that I had been teaching Theatre for several years. She was happy and seemed to be loved by many students, especially the grown-up ones from grades 11 and 12. I thought this was a blessing and so mature of her.

One day while I was teaching the topic on how to perform monologues, I decided to try girl x out and check her level of acting as well as have a feel of how I would assist her to improve on her performing skills.

Girl x walked on stage with great confidence and sat down. She heaved a deep sigh and erupted with a great voice projection. First paragraph, and she was fine. The whole class was in deep silence since this particular monologue was a distressing one and demanded expressions of deep heartbreaking emotions with a sombervoice. The silence was so loud that anyone would be able to cut it with a knife. It was palpable.

Paragraph two and tears started streaming down her cheeks; I thought this happened because she felt dejected about the girl who felt her mother and sister discriminated her-Not so perfect child by D.M. Larson, but no, the crying became deafening and this time out of character. The monologue had triggered a very sad memory. A memory that painfully cut to her spine. A memory that she had thrown in the pit of forget and threw away its key. A memory she had prayed to God to just vanquish and never sprout. A memory that had made her change schools.

I took her outside the class and sat her down. I gazed at her as the tears rolled down the cheeks uncontrollably and wet her charcoal black skirt. I felt like crying but reminded myself that I was a male teacher and I had to see this one through. I waited till the well of tears dried out. I heaved a deep sigh of relief as I said my first words-

I am sorry to have made you stand in front of the audience and perform.

The performance was alright sir, it’s what it has sparked.

What did it make you remember?

Something that happened to me a while ago and I will never want anyone to go through in their lives. You see, I used to be a very confident student all through my lower grades until I reached Grade 8. I started hanging out with students from grade 10 all the way to grade 12. It was cool; I liked how they talked to me, with respect and much love. I loved their company. When I reached grade 9, I had so many grown-up students as my buddies and this sparked another fire. I did not know that other girls were jealous of me. Young boys who had wanted to be my boyfriends gave up the fight to the big boys. They started calling me a very crude name.

There was a deep silence for a second. My heart, beat so fast. I wanted to run and call the school counselor, but I gathered my strength.

What did they call you?

A whore!

With that I felt my tears gushing out, tears did not respect my status-an educator of 7 years and was still counting. What was this? Why would young students subject each other to this kind of torment? Why bully each other to this level? What was happening to 21st-century students?

Then what happened?

The rumor spread in the whole school and they would laugh, giggle and gossip about me in the corridors. The gossip continued on Facebook and WhatsApp. It was bad, sir, and I dreaded going to school. You see, I grew up without a father, and all I wanted was a father figure around me. I guess that is why I needed to be with the older boys, it made me feel closer to someone strong, and someone who would protect me and guide me. She continued the story with a lot of confidence and spite.

Is there a difference between your previous school and this one?

No, because even here, I have started to feel the same. I feel like that dreadful shadow still haunts me even to this school.

I assured this young girl that she was not a whore. She was an amazing student who had great skills in acting. She was an excellent actress. It was visible, but she needed to be told. I assured her that God had great plans for her future as well as her studies. I promised to walk with her in that horrifying journey until she finished her academic years. I later talked to the school counselor who started having several sessions with her. Her mother was summoned and a great discussion transpired. Girl x was on the journey of healing and discovering herself.

After a year, she started to believe in herself despite the absence of her father. She made many friends of her age group and passed many subjects. She walked with confidence and fought back against anyone who tried to diminish or belittle her. She became a force to reckon in the school especially to girls who had absent dads. They all believed they would make it in life despite the predicaments they faced in their lives. She stood against school bullying and cyberbullying. Her mother became her greatest friend.

I became one of her best teachers and mentors.

If it was not for Theatre-then I would not have known her problem. She used the tool of Theatre as her therapy; she continued to perform tragical scripts and act harrowing solo performances till she got used to expressing those desolate emotions and dealing with her painful past. She embraced comedy and that brought her great happiness.

Now, I teach Theatre with great zeal, knowing that it might touch and transform students’ lives beyond my scoop, beyond my imagination.

Theatre has a great impact on schools-let us always embrace this amazing subject.