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Chapter 6: Mr. Rasheed's Test
The air on Thursday morning was thick with tension in SS2A. Whispers filled the class like smoke—low, nervous, and spreading fast.
"Have you heard?" Bimbo asked in a hushed voice.
"Elumezie said it's today!" Precious Fadeyi replied, her eyes wide.
"He posted it on the class group chat—Mr. Rasheed is giving a surprise math test."
Ayomide looked up from her book. "It's not a surprise anymore if everyone knows."
Ajiboye chuckled from the front seat. "Trust Rasheed. He'll still find a way to shock us."
Indeed, Mr. Rasheed, the feared Math teacher, was known for his strictness and unpredictability. Tall, thin, with sunken eyes and a sharp voice, he walked into class like a general entering a battlefield. His footsteps alone were enough to silence even the most stubborn talkers.
As the bell rang for second period, the students sat up straight. Their green-on-green uniforms looked freshly ironed, socks pulled high, black shoes polished—no one dared test his patience with a uniform violation. Victory quickly tucked in her shirt, and Bimbo stopped chewing gum.
The door flung open.
"Good morning, class," Mr. Rasheed said curtly, entering with a long ruler and a stack of brown papers.
"Good morning, sir," they echoed.
"No greetings can save you today," he said, dropping the papers on his table. "Clear your desks. No calculators. No talking."
Murmurs stopped instantly. Fear gripped the class.
"You have a thirty-minute test on Algebra and Simultaneous Equations. Five questions. Show full working. Begin."
Groans filled the air, but no one dared disobey.
Ayomide grabbed her pen and began immediately. Her eyes scanned the paper. The questions were challenging but manageable—for someone who studied the night before.
Ajiboye smiled. "This one is a giveaway," he whispered under his breath, already halfway through question two.
Elumezie, on the other hand, stared at his sheet as if it were written in a foreign language. He scratched his head and bent over, trying to remember what x and y were supposed to do.
"Ten minutes left," Mr. Rasheed barked.
A bead of sweat rolled down Bimbo's face. She flipped the page, attempting the last question. Victory nudged her eraser off the table by mistake, but when she leaned to pick it up, she saw something that made her pause.
Fadeyi had a piece of paper—tiny, crumpled—hidden under her palm.
Victory's eyes widened. Fadeyi noticed and met her gaze with panic. Victory didn't say a word, but her face said everything.
Before either of them could react, Mr. Rasheed was beside them.
"Miss Victory," he said sharply. "Is there a problem?"
"No, sir," Victory stammered.
"Then why are you both not looking at your papers?"
Victory looked down quickly.
Mr. Rasheed turned to Fadeyi. "What is that under your hand?"
Fadeyi hesitated.
"I SAID—stand up and show me!"
Tears welled in Fadeyi's eyes as she stood, slowly revealing the cheat note beneath her palm.
Gasps filled the classroom.
"Cheating in my class?" Mr. Rasheed shouted. "Of all the subjects to try this nonsense with?"
Fadeyi trembled. "I'm sorry, sir… I just… I didn't understand the topic. I was scared."
"You'll understand it very well at the Disciplinary Committee," he said coldly. "Pack your things and leave my class."
"Sir, please…" Victory tried to speak.
"Did you see her cheat?" Mr. Rasheed demanded.
Victory hesitated. "She didn't use it, sir… she just… had it."
"Having it is enough. Leave with her if you want to defend her."
Victory looked down, hurt.
Fadeyi walked out slowly, head bowed, holding back tears.
Ajiboye whispered, "This is bad…"
The class finished the test in silence. When the bell rang, no one moved until Mr. Rasheed collected all the papers and left the room.
Outside, under the mango tree, Victory found Fadeyi sitting on a bench.
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling?" Victory asked softly.
"I was ashamed," Fadeyi said. "You and Ayomide always understand things so fast. I thought I'd look dumb."
"You're not dumb. You're just scared to ask for help," Victory replied. "But now look…"
Fadeyi buried her face in her hands. "They'll suspend me."
Victory rubbed her shoulder. "Let's talk to Ayomide. Maybe she can help."
At break, they found Ayomide in the library. When they explained what had happened, she sighed deeply.
"Mr. Rasheed won't let this slide," she said. "But I'll come with you to the Disciplinary Committee. If we show you're willing to change, they might go easy."
"Thanks," Fadeyi whispered.
The Disciplinary Committee was chaired by the Directress, with two senior teachers. That afternoon, Fadeyi stood before them, flanked by Victory and Ayomide.
The Directress tapped her biro on the table. "Cheating is one of the gravest offenses in this school. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I was wrong," Fadeyi said, voice shaking. "I was afraid of failing. But I understand now that I should have asked for help. I'm sorry."
Ayomide stepped forward. "She's a good student. This was a mistake—not a habit. I can help tutor her. Please, let her stay."
The Directress narrowed her eyes.
After a pause, she said, "You will write a formal apology letter, lose two weeks of break time, and attend tutoring sessions supervised by Mr. Rasheed. Next time, you're out."
"Yes ma," Fadeyi said quickly, bowing.
They left the office quietly, and when they got to the corridor, Fadeyi hugged Victory tightly. "Thank you."
"Next time, don't hide your struggles," Victory said, smiling.
"I won't."
From the hallway, the sound of footsteps echoed. Mr. Daniel passed by, giving them a nod.
"Learning is not just about the brain," he said. "It's also about the heart."
The girls nodded in silence.
As they walked back to class, the green of their uniforms swayed gently in the afternoon breeze. On the wall near the staircase, the school's motto glowed faintly in the sunlight:
> "God is our Refuge."
At Bosol, the rules were strict—but so was the grace that followed sincere repentance.