It was the first day of the year and, speaking in English, I told the learners that I could not afford to translate my lessons into their mother tongue. Instead the lessons would be offered in English.
As I spoke, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a strange smile from one older learner. At first I suspected nothing untoward, but then I looked again at the would-be interlocutor, and noticed that his self-satisfied grin was accompanied by shaking of his head, suggesting disagreement with what I was saying.
Then the unexpected happened. The boy shot his right hand in the air, clicking his fingers repeatedly. Thirty-five pairs of curious eyes followed the direction of the clicking sound. My reaction was to ignore it — by ignoring him I hoped he would soon lose interest and relent. But I was mistaken. The boy had fixed his hand in the air, and the look on his face suggested that he disagreed with what I was saying.
I stopped momentarily and glared at him. The forest that was his hair stood out in a jungle of cobwebs the only difference being that cobwebs are artistic and crafty. Still in his chair and still smiling his sheepish smile, he said,’You”. He shook his index finger at me. ‘You are a liar”. Then his smile transformed into a burst of laughter — you know, the kind that turns the originator into some kind of freak.
I said to the boy curtly: ‘Well, if I am a liar you had better go and stay outside. Get out now.” What else would I say or do with a learner like that, for we teachers have been reduced to toothless bulldogs.
Still wearing his mischievous smile, the young man stood up and stood right in my face. Shockingly and unconvincingly, reminiscent of a bowl-carrying beggar in a crowded Johannesburg street, the young man started washing his hands in an imaginary bowl of water, pleading for mercy and forgiveness. The smell on his breath was one of a man whose hobby was to suffocate and drown himself with dagga and alcohol. It was nauseating.
Realising what I was in for, I pointed to the door. He followed the direction of my finger and stood motionless right in the doorframe, his foolish grin still covering his face. I pursued him and literally pushed him out of the classroom. Just as I was about to continue rather awkwardly with my lesson, the window adjacent to the door opened and there he stood staring at me with his shaking head punctuating his silly smile.
As I pondered what to do next, the bell rang. I sauntered from the classroom, depressed and dejected, wondering what to do or say to the addict-cum-learner. I walked past him as if he did not exist and went straight to the staff room to share my ordeal with my colleagues. Although the whole saga became a big joke, nothing cleared my mind more strongly than that incident.