HOW long can you hold hard feelings against an erring pupil, whatever the offence? TIMOTHY KAMBILIMA narrates how despite the intervention of a superior his class teacher stubbornly refused to accept an apology from him. Read on…

SCHOOL life is full of ups and downs and sometimes we are faced with a lot of challenges during the stage of being a pupil. When I was doing grade 10 at Chililabombwe Secondary School in  1990, I had an encounter with one of the teachers.
I recall being late for lessons one day and because of that, my teacher who used to teach me one of the subjects chased me. As a very obedient pupil, I accepted to leave the class although I was very hurt inside because I hated missing lessons.
My parents were very particular and meticulous in checking our school books randomly without notice. If you were found wanting, you would be in hot soup, especially from mum Eness Kamuchacha who was born at the end of the Second World War.
After being ‘red carded’ by my teacher, I went to the school hall to study as I waited for the two periods to come to an end. A Mr Mulala who was on duty that day found me in the  hall and asked what I was doing there when the rest of the class was learning.
At first I wanted to lie that I was not feeling well and was waiting to go to the sick bay. Those who were at Chililabombwe Secondary School from 1988 to 1993 will remember what I am talking about; unfortunately the sick bay has been turned into an office today.
However, I quickly remembered what we were taught by our Sunday school teachers at Kakoso CMML Church that God will punish liars. I opened up and told Mr Mulala whom we called ‘Mr ‘Bismarck’ the truth. He earned the nickname ‘Mr Bismarck’ because of the way he nicely explained Bismarck and the system of alliances during European history lessons.
My grade teacher asked me to go to his office where I was told to wait for a few minutes and the teacher who gave me marching orders entered the room. Mr Mulala requested me to explain what had happened which I did, and the teacher refused to say much apart from saying, “Sir, you can be teaching Timothy, not me.”
Efforts by my grade teacher to persuade him fell on deaf ears as he put his foot down and left the two of us in the office. Mr Mulala comforted me and promised to do whatever he could to persuade his colleague to allow me back in his class.
That day I felt very devastated and frustrated because of the manner I was being treated. One of my class mates Marion Makesa advised me to go and apologise to the teacher, but I was reluctant to do so because of the ‘tough’ attitude he had shown towards me.
After much thought, however, I reluctantly accepted to give this proposal a shot, but before doing so, I first went to consult my grade teacher if that suggestion was feasible. He gave me the green light, but believe you me, the offended teacher  was adamant and asked me not to bother him as he was just too busy to accept my apology. I informed my grade teacher and Marion about the outcome and they were as saddened as I was.
When I got back home in the evening, I could not keep to myself this sad development and shared it with my parents. My mother was more furious than my dad and she promised to ‘sort out’ the teacher the following day. My dear dad, Mr Zedi Kambilima, who was a deacon at our church, however, opposed my mother’s stance and instead advised me to wait and see how the teacher would react the following day.
I went to bed earlier than usual that evening, my mind crowded with thoughts of what would happen at school the following day. In the morning, I woke up as early as 05:30 hours, had a shower and by 06:00 hours I had started off for school. On the way, I met my classmates Joseph Mubanga, Elizabeth Phiri and Nonde Kaoma (who passed on after grade 12).
They expressed their sympathies with me about the treatment I had received when the teacher chased me from class. “We missed your news updates,” they said. I loved giving news updates to the class while imitating broadcaster Kenneth Maduma’s golden voice.
I was, however, not interested in my colleagues’ consolation  because my interest was to know my fate: Whether the teacher would allow me back in class. Listen to what they told me, “I will never allow that boy (to enter my class again) over my dead body,” the teacher was heard as saying as he was leaving class the previous day.
I almost made a u-turn, but Joseph Mubanga encouraged me not to lose hope. “I think we should boycott his lessons,” Elizabeth, who now works for Mulonga Water and Sewerage Company, suggested.
Upon reaching school, I went straight to class and after the normal registration and pep talk from our grade teacher, I was invited to accompany him to his office. The ‘angry’ teacher was also invited so that the issue could be resolved once and for all.
“Sir, I am ready to do any punishment you will give me,” I pleaded with tears rolling down my cheeks. Sometimes people’s hearts can be as hard as a rock. He categorically refused to accept my proposal. At that point ‘Mr Bismarck’ came up with his own idea and told his colleague “It’s alright, Sir, you may go.”
The inflexible stance taken by the annoyed teacher opened another avenue for possible resolution of the impasse. The grade teacher asked me to accompany him to the office of the deputy head teacher where I was told to give my side of the story.
The grade teacher presented my case so well that he could pass for a State counsel. The deputy head was very annoyed with the ‘angry’ teacher and, henceforth, he ordered that I go back to class unconditionally.
“Go to class my reporter; I will talk to your teacher,” soothed the deputy, making me feel somewhat ‘important’, considering that the class teacher’s stand-off with me had been resolved in his absence.
“Thank you so much to both of you. God will bless you abundantly”, I said, kneeling down in a worship-like style. Back to class, there was jubilation and ululation from my joyous classmates which attracted the attention of the teacher in the next class. “Sir, we are happy to have Timothy back”, the class chorused in unison. The ‘unforgiving’ teacher just smiled and left.
The mood in 10 Agric class that day was very good. Back home, I informed my parents about the good news and they were equally elated, but dad was quick to warn me not to be late again. Since that day I loved Mr Mulala like my father.
When I came back from teacher training college, I found that he had been promoted to deputy head teacher and later head teacher. Whenever I was assigned to work as master of ceremonies (mcee) during national events at Konkola Stadium, I felt proud to recognise his presence in the VIP lounge. And during leisure time I would buy him one or two of his favourite ‘drinks’ and together we would share the joy.
Though the man – Mr Gabriel ‘Brown Bismarck’ Mulala answered the Lord’s call on that fateful Friday July 21, 2006, I still have respect for his attitude and approach towards handling issues at Chililabombwe Secondary School of which the current Mines Deputy Minister Richard Musukwa and Mufurila Wanderers coach Manfred Chabinga were its products.
I forgave the unforgiving teacher for, I believe, he did not know what he was doing. You cannot begrudge a pupil for a simple mistake like being late for class once. I feel good each time I see Ethel Mulala, the daughter of Mr Mulala who is a UNZA graduate in history just like her late dad.
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