22/06/2025
Title: The Chalk Dust That Never Settled
In the heart of a small, dusty town called Ipetu, there lived a teacher named Mr. Adigun. He was not rich, not powerful, and not famous but in the eyes of his students, he was everything.
Every morning, long before the sun rose, Mr. Adigun would ride his old bicycle, a creaky, rusted relic across five miles of rough roads just to get to Community Secondary School, Ipetu. He often arrived with his shoes soaked from crossing muddy paths and his shirt damp with sweat, but he never missed a day.
The school lacked many things: chalk, textbooks, even doors on some classrooms. But it never lacked passion because Mr. Adigun carried it on his shoulders. He taught Mathematics, English, and sometimes even helped with Agricultural Science. He printed practice questions from a small computer café using his own money, often skipping meals to afford them.
When a student fell behind, he would visit their homes after school, sometimes walking for over an hour, just to help them catch up. Parents would nod politely but rarely offer him water, let alone thanks.
One year, he used his savings to fix broken classroom windows before the rainy season only for the parents at a PTA meeting to accuse him of misusing funds. They didn’t know it was his personal salary he used. They didn’t care to ask.
Another time, he helped a troubled boy named Seyi, who was almost expelled for fighting. Mr. Adigun discovered that Seyi was acting out because his father had abandoned the family and his mother was sick. Mr. Adigun took it upon himself to visit Seyi daily, bought him books, gave him lunch, and slowly turned his life around. Seyi ended up becoming the school’s best student but when the parents celebrated his success, they only mentioned how “God answered their prayers.”
Years went by, and Mr. Adigun kept teaching, sacrificing, and sweating into the chalkboard. Students passed exams, won scholarships, and built dreams but no one ever said “thank you.” Some parents even gossiped that he was too involved, too strict, too soft.
Then one day, he didn’t come to school.
The staff and students waited. Days passed. Weeks. It turned out Mr. Adigun had fallen seriously ill. His worn-out body had finally collapsed under years of stress, hunger, and untreated health conditions. No one had noticed. No one had asked.
It was only when he di€d that they remembered.
The school organized a small ceremony. A few parents spoke in hushed tones, regr€tting their silence. Some cried. Students laid flowers on the desk he once used, a desk full of chalk dust, now cold and empty.
Seyi, now a university student, returned to speak.
“Mr. Adigun was the reason I’m here. He saw value in me when no one else did. He gave when he had nothing. If only we had told him he mattered… while he still breathed.”
And in that moment, the whole town realized: they had lost a silent hero.
Moral:
Sometimes, the ones who do the most are appreciated the least until it’s too late. Let’s not wait until a good teacher is gone before we say, “Thank you.”
Elisha de famous
