Always in my Heart

In the bustling chemistry lab of Lagos High, a vibrant flame erupted from a test tube, crackling above the Bunsen burner before ascending into a miniature mushroom cloud that quickly dissipated. The students, momentarily pulled away from their smartphones, gasped in unison, their "Wow!" echoing off the walls. Mr. Adeyemi, their teacher, stepped back, extinguishing the torch. "That is the importance of safety, everyone. Goggles on," he reminded them. "Now, can anyone recall the three essential elements of combustion?" The teenagers hesitated, their attention divided between the lesson and their screens. With a swift motion, Mr. Adeyemi let a hefty textbook fall onto the desk with a resonant thud, reclaiming their focus. "Fuel, oxygen, and heat," he declared, approaching the whiteboard to jot down the formula with a flourish. "The air provides oxygen, our burner supplies the heat, which means we need fuel. Combine a touch of anhydrous sodium acetate with sodium hydroxide, and voilà, you produce methane — the same gas from cow emissions." A ripple of laughter spread through the class. Setting the marker aside and brushing his hands on his trousers, Mr. Adeyemi glanced at the clock. "We have a few minutes left. Remember, there's a test next Thursday." A collective groan filled the room. "I understand, tests can be tedious. But remember, it is your support that earned me the nomination for the teaching award. Without that, we would not have had these moments." The mood shifted as groans turned to smiles and supportive shouts. "You are the best, Mr. A! "a voice cheered, followed by a whistle, and the room burst into good - natured laughter. "Thank you, everyone. I will be attending the award ceremony in Ikeja next Friday, but Mr. Chukwuma will cover for me," Mr. Adeyemi announced with a grin. "Will you be wearing a tuxedo for the event?" asked Tolu from the back row. Mr. Adeyemi chuckled. "With our salaries? I wish." Laughter filled the lab once more. "Keep up with your studies, and you will not need to cram later," he advised, just as the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Students hurriedly gathered their belongings. "Do not forget," Mr. Adeyemi's voice rose above the commotion, "on Monday, we will explore gas laws and kinetic theory. Take a look at the experiment on page eighty-one." He tapped his forehead. "And always remember your safety goggles!" As the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day at Lagos High, students eagerly spilled out of the classroom, chattering about their weekend plans. Mr. Adeyemi, who had just wrapped up his lesson on chemical reactions, wiped the whiteboard clean, reflecting on the day's Intro to Chemistry class. He hoped that amidst the sea of tired faces, at least one student grasped the nuances between combustion and simple burning. The classroom emptied quickly, the last echoes of laughter fading down the hallway. Adeyemi often pondered the future of these students, knowing that for many, the principles of chemistry would be left behind with their high school uniforms. Yet, he could not help but dream of teaching in a tertiary institution, perhaps a university in Victoria Island, where the pursuit of knowledge was not overshadowed by the lure of video games, shopping trips to Ikeja City Mall, or the constant buzz of social media notifications. A handful of students, the ones who lingered after class to ask deeper questions, showed a genuine interest in chemistry. They reminded Mr. Adeyemi of his own passion for the subject. But as the days passed, he felt the challenge of keeping the subject alive and engaging growing heavier. Maybe an experiment involving dropping objects from the school's tallest building to illustrate gravity's pull might spark their curiosity. "Adeyemi, are you coming? "Chukwuma called from the doorway, his voice pulling Adeyemi from his thoughts. Known affectionately as 'Uncle Chukwuma' by the students, he was a beloved figure at Lagos High. With over four decades of teaching under his belt, his presence was as constant as the jollof rice served in the cafeteria. His tall frame, accented by a neatly trimmed beard and glasses perched on his nose, exuded an air of wisdom that was matched only by his jovial demeanor. Many of Uncle Chukwuma's former students had gone on to prestigious careers in medicine, research, and education, inspired by his dedication and love for teaching. "Just a moment," Adeyemi replied, powering down his computer and snapping the lid shut. "I will finish grading the tests at home tomorrow." With a nod, he grabbed his bag and joined his colleague, ready to welcome the weekend and the promise of a cold drink at their favorite local spot. Every Friday, after the final bell rang at Lagos High, Adeyemi and Chukwuma would find themselves at Mama Eko's diner in the heart of Lagos Island, sipping on chilled zobo shakes and unwinding from a week's worth of teaching. Their conversations meandered from the intricacies of science to the quirks of everyday life. Today, they were likely to chuckle over the latest trend sweeping through the city: the Great Lagos Beard Challenge, set to take place on Sunday at Freedom Park. Adeyemi reached for his jacket, a reminder that the rainy season was approaching, bringing with it a cooler breeze that swept through the bustling streets of Lagos. Chukwuma entered the staff room, his eyes taking in the modern architecture of the new school wing, a stark contrast to the aging structures of their alma mater. Adeyemi could not help but agree; the new facilities were a welcome change. As he packed his briefcase with assignments to grade, he turned to Mr. Chukwuma. "Any plans for the weekend?" Mr. Chukwuma shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. "The usual. How about you? Will you be at the beard competition?" Mr. Adeyemi chuckled. "I will pass. It is becoming quite the spectacle, isn't it? Reminds me of the 'Wole Soyinka Look-Alike Contest' we had last year. I have got to stay ahead with grading these lab reports, especially with the upcoming teachers' conference in Abuja." Leaning against the desk, Chukwuma mused, "Perhaps you are being a bit too stringent with the students." Adeyemi set his pen down, a knowing smile on his face. "You were the same with me, were you not? Always encouraging extra lab time. 'Dedicated Adeyemi,' they called me." Chukwuma's mustache twitched with amusement. "You always had a knack for science. And who knows, there might still be other paths for you to explore." Adeyemi pondered his colleague's words, then shifted the conversation back to the award. "I have a sneaking suspicion you had a hand in my nomination." Chukwuma's laughter filled the room. "It was the students' initiative. They nominated you last semester." Mr. Adeyemi feigned a sigh. "A nomination is great, but it doesn't come with a salary bump, does it?" Their laughter echoed as they locked up the classroom, leaving behind the day's lessons and looking forward to a weekend in the vibrant city of Lagos. Chukwuma's laughter filled the staff room at Lagos High as he placed his briefcase on the desk, withdrawing a sleek brochure. "Take a look at this," he said, sliding it across to Mr. Adeyemi. Adeyemi browsed through it, then raised an eyebrow. "The Kings College? Isn't that in Ikoyi?" "Indeed, it is. I taught a few summer courses there once, covering for a friend," Chukwuma replied with a casual wave of his hand. "That is news to me," Mr. Adeyemi remarked with a hint of surprise. Chukwuma chuckled. "Oh, it was ages ago. We practically used slates and chalk back then." Adeyemi examined the brochure more closely. Kings College was a renowned institution, steeped in history and prestige. "What is this about, then?" he inquired. Pointing to a note at the bottom, Chukwuma explained, "They are seeking a senior chemistry teacher." "And?" Adeyemi prompted, a touch of skepticism in his voice. "You are a chemistry teacher, are you not? "Chukwuma teased. Adeyemi sighed, setting the brochure aside. "Chukwuma, that's a league above me. Besides, I am already employed." Chukwuma gestured towards the window. "Yes, with a picturesque view of the school's generator and the canteen's refuse bins." Adeyemi gave a resigned shrug. "I' have come to appreciate the daily routine, the predictability of it all." "I can imagine the difficulty in giving that up, "Chukwuma mused. "Exactly. You are the one who always says, 'If you are not present where you are, you are nowhere at all.'" Chukwuma tapped his chest. "Do I say that?" "Absolutely," Adeyemi confirmed. Chukwuma stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I must have borrowed that from an old Nollywood movie." He then sat on the corner of Adeyemi's desk, his demeanor turning earnest. "Adeyemi, I do not usually meddle in your affairs—" Adeyemi chuckled. "Since when?" "Fair point. But this opportunity at Kings College is exceptional. With your master's degree, your teaching experience, and the recent accolade you have received, you are an ideal candidate." "I am uncertain..." Adeyemi trailed off, his thoughts a whirlwind. "They believe you do be a great fit," Chukwuma pressed on. "Who does?" Adeyemi asked, a frown creasing his brow. Chukwuma hesitated, then admitted, "I reached out to an old friend. He is now the headmaster at Kings College in Ikoyi. I mentioned your work, and they are intrigued." "You did what? "Adeyemi's voice was a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Yes, and they are eager to interview you, if you are willing," Chukwuma added. Adeyemi shook his head firmly. "I am not interested." But Chukwuma met his gaze with that familiar, persuasive look. "Just consider the interview. What is the harm? Besides, if word gets out that you are being sought after, it might just lead to a better salary here." Adeyemi let out a half - hearted laugh. The idea of a raise was tempting, but... "I barely have time for the conference in Abuja next week, let alone a trip to Ikoyi." "It is just across the Third Mainland Bridge, not on another continent. Think it over, "Chukwuma urged. Adeyemi knew Chukwuma would not drop the matter. "Alright, I will consider it," he conceded, though he doubted he would.