By Usoro I. Usoro

I have decided to report my last daughter, Enobong, to the appropriate authorities. That little girl has become a threat to national peace.

I’m very upset because she has not only caused me the stress of sourcing her school fees, she gave me additional load today – driving home a truckload of well, load!

You see, instead of minding her business like other children, she went to school and returned with four awards. Four! Best student in Arts, Mathematics and English Studies. And, just like that… without any apology, she became the Best Transiting Student! Who does that in this economy?

This child clearly has no respect for those of us who grew up believing that “manage it” is a legitimate life philosophy.

Now, because of her, people have started asking to see my old report cards. And some innocent children will be returning home today to hear dangerous questions like, “Your classmate collected four awards. Wetin you collect?” The poor child may quietly reply, “I collected a bottle of Fanta!”

Some parents are even worse. They may not even ask how the child is doing. They’d only ask, “Who came first?” As if life is a one-hundred-metre race where everybody must break the same tape.

Meanwhile, there are children whose greatest academic achievement is locating the refrigerator even in pitch darkness. Ask them to look for their Mathematics textbook and they suddenly develop partial blindness. But once somebody whispers, “Jollof rice,” they can navigate the whole house without Google Maps.

I also worry about adults. We have become so addicted to shortcuts that genuine hard work now looks suspicious. If a child excels, somebody must ask, “Who helped her?” We find it easier to believe in miracles and connections than in midnight reading.

My Enobong has therefore embarrassed many of us. After collecting the awards, she told me boldly: “ Daddy, books are still useful, don’t be tired of buying them for me. My teachers too still matter.” Something told me today that the benefits of core discipline has refused to go extinct.

But, let me confess something. Four awards don’t make a successful life. They only prove that hard work can smile back at you. Tomorrow, another child may collect ten awards. Wonderful! The real competition is not between children; it’s between effort and excuses.

As my daughter and her classmates move to another class today, my prayer is simple. May they never graduate from humility. May they remain curious enough to keep learning, kind enough to help others, and wise enough to know that certificates decorate walls, but character decorates lives.

As for the four awards, I’ve warned them not to make too much noise in my house. In Nigeria, once success begins to shout, excuses quickly gather for a press conference. Again, not in my house ooo!