CHAPTER FORTY: SCHOOL PARENTS
After Victoria and I had completed our respective portions, we walked over to the bench in front of the solar panel and sank onto it, exhausted but relieved.
"Thank goodness I wasn't given a portion full of dry grass," Victoria sighed, her eyes following a few students struggling with their patches. Some were raking together the grass they had already cut, while others wrestled with stubborn weeds.
"Were you ever assigned a portion like that before?" I asked curiously, turning to look at her.
"Yeah," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. "It took me ages to finish. I barely survived."
"Woah, that sounds unlucky," I commented sympathetically as I looked back at the other students still battling their unruly portions.
Victoria nodded, sighing. "It was. Really, some days feel cursed."
I followed her gaze to the hostel direction, where the house mistress was scolding a student for being sluggish in her chores. "Morayo must be lucky," I remarked, a hint of envy in my voice.
"She is," Victoria said with a laugh. "She always seems to get the easy portions inside the hostel. It's almost like she has some secret connection with the house mistress." She turned back to watch a pair of juniors arguing over the dirt basket, each insisting it was theirs to deposit their cut grass into.
"Lucky, indeed!" I exclaimed, shaking my head at their quarrel as it escalated.
"Senior school students have it worse," Victoria added, looking up at the sky, then at the ground in thought.
"How do you know?" I asked, doubtful, since none of the senior students were participating in cutting grass.
"They are punished for almost everything, whether it's something they did in the hostel or during classes. Even juniors in the senior school get assigned to cut grass if they are rude," Victoria explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "My school mother is in senior school," she added casually, which took me by surprise.
"School mother?" I asked, bewildered.
"Yes," Victoria said, as if reading my mind. "A school mother is just like having a mother at home. When you're in boarding school and feel the need for guidance apart from your guardian, you can request a school mother—someone older, experienced, and trusted. It's an agreement between the school daughter and the school mother."
"You knew her before choosing her?" I asked, still puzzled.
"Of course. Why else would I choose her?" Victoria said with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, that makes sense," I murmured.
"Some students choose school parents for attention or even for financial reasons," Victoria continued. "Having a popular or influential school mother can mean support in school matters, help with studies, or protection if you ever get into trouble."
"School parents?" I echoed, surprised by the terminology.
"Exactly. If your school mother or school father is dating someone, that person becomes your school father or mother. Some students select them separately, perhaps because they dislike the partner or have other preferences," Victoria clarified.
"Do you have a school father?" I asked curiously.
"Nah," she replied, smiling faintly. "I'm waiting for my school mother to start dating someone first."
I laughed. "It's like when a mother tells her child, 'I don't know who your father is, but I'm going to marry someone else!'"
"Haha, funny!" Victoria said, chuckling, and then glanced at the noisy students still engaged in their quarrel over the grass basket.
"Why did you choose to have a school mother?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"In case I run out of money, need support, or need someone to explain a topic to me," she said, her smile warm.
"Wow! Does Morayo have a school mother too?"
"Yes," Victoria replied.
"The same one as yours?" I asked, intrigued.
"Yes," she confirmed.
"Who is she?" I pressed further, my curiosity piqued.
"You don't know her," Victoria said, teasingly.
"Will you show me soon?" I asked eagerly, hoping to meet this influential woman.
"Why? You want a school mother too?" Victoria asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, not really," I admitted. "I just want to understand how it works."
"I see," Victoria said thoughtfully. "I'll introduce you to my school mother whenever I visit her."
"Thanks!" I said, turning to look at her as she focused her attention back on the noisy students.
"Does that mean you and Morayo are school sisters?" I asked.
"Yes," she confirmed, nodding. "School family."
"I wonder how you two decided on a female school mother," I mused, observing the increasingly heated argument over the basket.
"What? Is that a problem?" Victoria asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
"No, not at all," I reassured her, looking into her eyes.
"Okay. We just liked her because she is kind, knowledgeable, and financially capable. She seemed like someone who could support us," Victoria explained, returning her gaze to the noisy students.
"Which class is she in?" I asked, my curiosity relentless.
"She's in S.S 2," Victoria said casually, not even glancing at me.
Just then, the argument escalated further. "Hey! Hey! Stop!" Victoria shouted, running toward the two girls who were now almost on the verge of physical confrontation. She pushed them apart and stood firmly between them.
I got to my feet, moving closer to support her. But before I could reach her, one of the girls lunged forward, swinging a hand and hitting Victoria across the face.
The hostel fell into a stunned silence. Time seemed to slow as Victoria stumbled back slightly, touching her cheek. I felt a surge of anger rise within me. How dare someone lay a hand on her?
"Oi! Who do you think you are?" I shouted, rushing forward, my hands balled into fists.
Victoria, however, steadied herself immediately. "Back off!" she commanded, her voice sharp and authoritative despite the pain flashing across her face. "This is no way to settle disputes. You'll regret it if you try me again."
The aggressor paused, eyes widening at Victoria's unwavering gaze. Slowly, she took a step back, muttering something under her breath. The tension in the air remained palpable, but Victoria's firm stance had calmed the situation… for now.
I exhaled deeply, my heart still racing. "You okay?" I asked, concern evident in my voice.
Victoria nodded, brushing her hair back. "I'm fine. Just a scratch. But this is why you don't mess with school mothers' protégées," she said, glancing toward the now-distracted students still completing their chores.
I couldn't help but marvel at her poise. Even after being struck, she remained composed, a living example of why she was respected in school.
"Lesson learned," I whispered to myself. Boarding school was about more than academics; it was about strength, resilience, and standing your ground—even against peers.
Environmental Saturdays, school mothers, and these little skirmishes all formed a mosaic of experiences that shaped us, toughened us, and, occasionally, left us with tales worth telling. Today had been exhausting, yes, but it had also been instructive in a way no classroom ever could be.