THE DAY A STUDENT HELD MY SHIRT AND DARED ME TO SL.AP HIM…

It happened in one of the “top schools” I once worked in.
A school with beautiful buildings.
A school that had zero respect for teachers.

Here, students were gods.
Teachers were servants.
The rule?
No fl0gging. No discipline. No puni$hment.
Just smile and teach—even if you’re disrespected.

From the first day I resumed, I had already heard the stories.
Stories of how students in$ulted teachers.
Stories of teachers being humiliated, m0cked, and even reported to the school owners for simply trying to do their jobs.

So I knew I had to draw the line.
I told them clearly:

“In my class, there is no room for noise, indiscipline, or disrespect.”

And somehow, most of them loved and respected me.
We built a bond… until that day in SS1.

I was teaching modular arithmetic when a new student entered the class.
He didn’t greet.
He didn’t sit.
He just stood there, bouncing a small red tennis ball, disrupting the lesson.

I told him calmly,

“Young man, stop that.”

He looked me in the face and said:

“No. I’m enjoying it.”

I walked up to him, took the ball.
Suddenly, he rushed at me, grabbed my shirt and shouted:

“Give me my tennis ball!”

I tried to keep calm.
I said,

“After class, I’ll give it back. Go and sit.”

But he stood his ground. Still holding me.
Still shouting.

I looked into his eyes.
This boy… a student… was challenging me in front of the entire class.
I was boiling.
I said with a raised voice:

“Leave me now. Or I’ll give you a $laap you’ll never forget.”

He looked at me, eyes wild, and screamed:

“$lap me! You will go! I will report you to the principal! You will be $acked!”

Something in me snapped.

I gave him a s$ap.
Then another.
Then one more.
He br0ke down in tea.r$.

He ran out of the class—headed straight to the principal’s office.
But two students ran after him… they held him.
They begged him.

And I heard a voice from the back of the class say:

“Please, don’t report Mr. Esomnofu. He’s a good man.”

I stood there… not knowing whether to cr¥ or just pack my things and leave.
I thought of my certificate. My hard work. My dreams.
And how they all almost ended in that moment—because I chose to correct a child.

This is what some schools have turned teachers into.
Powerless.
Defenseless.
Expendable.

In this country, some schools don’t want teachers.
They want robots.
They want $laves in shirts and ties.
They want babysitters with degrees.

For how long will this continue?

To every teacher who’s ever been insulted by a child…
To every teacher who’s been silenced by a system that protects students more than educators…
To every teacher who has walked out of a school gate in tears—questioning their worth…

You are not alone.

If this touched you…
If you believe this madn.e$$ must stop…
Please, share this.
THE DAY A STUDENT HELD MY SHIRT AND DARED ME TO SL.AP HIM… It happened in one of the “top schools” I once worked in. A school with beautiful buildings. A school that had zero respect for teachers. Here, students were gods. Teachers were servants. The rule? No fl0gging. No discipline. No puni$hment. Just smile and teach—even if you’re disrespected. From the first day I resumed, I had already heard the stories. Stories of how students in$ulted teachers. Stories of teachers being humiliated, m0cked, and even reported to the school owners for simply trying to do their jobs. So I knew I had to draw the line. I told them clearly: “In my class, there is no room for noise, indiscipline, or disrespect.” And somehow, most of them loved and respected me. We built a bond… until that day in SS1. I was teaching modular arithmetic when a new student entered the class. He didn’t greet. He didn’t sit. He just stood there, bouncing a small red tennis ball, disrupting the lesson. I told him calmly, “Young man, stop that.” He looked me in the face and said: “No. I’m enjoying it.” I walked up to him, took the ball. Suddenly, he rushed at me, grabbed my shirt and shouted: “Give me my tennis ball!” I tried to keep calm. I said, “After class, I’ll give it back. Go and sit.” But he stood his ground. Still holding me. Still shouting. I looked into his eyes. This boy… a student… was challenging me in front of the entire class. I was boiling. I said with a raised voice: “Leave me now. Or I’ll give you a $laap you’ll never forget.” He looked at me, eyes wild, and screamed: “$lap me! You will go! I will report you to the principal! You will be $acked!” Something in me snapped. I gave him a s$ap. Then another. Then one more. He br0ke down in tea.r$. He ran out of the class—headed straight to the principal’s office. But two students ran after him… they held him. They begged him. And I heard a voice from the back of the class say: “Please, don’t report Mr. Esomnofu. He’s a good man.” I stood there… not knowing whether to cr¥ or just pack my things and leave. I thought of my certificate. My hard work. My dreams. And how they all almost ended in that moment—because I chose to correct a child. This is what some schools have turned teachers into. Powerless. Defenseless. Expendable. In this country, some schools don’t want teachers. They want robots. They want $laves in shirts and ties. They want babysitters with degrees. For how long will this continue? To every teacher who’s ever been insulted by a child… To every teacher who’s been silenced by a system that protects students more than educators… To every teacher who has walked out of a school gate in tears—questioning their worth… You are not alone. If this touched you… If you believe this madn.e$$ must stop… Please, share this.
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