“What’s wrong?” my sister excitedly asked. She was trying to lift my mood, but she just made me angrier because just the day before, she didn’t utter a word when mama insulted me. I glanced at her and moved away from her.

“Get out of my room!” I yelled.

“Little sis, I know you want to study psychology so badly, but you can’t force things, surely there’s something you are good at. You can perform inadequately when it comes to academics, but surely you excel somewhere else. For every weakness, there’s a strength. Take a look in the mirror and tell me what you see. I’ll give you some space.”

Before I could answer, my sister kissed me on the forehead and left. When she was gone, I slowly stood up and stared at the mirror. Tears couldn’t stop streaming down my face and my eyes were red.

“Come on Azania, you can do this,” I said to myself. “You were born to be a voice for the voiceless, hope for the hopeless. You can do this, yeah, I can do this!”

While I was saying this, my cheeks slowly moved from their spots, exposing my beauty. I believe that a smile is makeup everyone can afford. I then took my diary and noted something down.

At the end of the day, you have to change your weaknesses into your strengths. I believe you have the power to make everything count in your favour.

Soon after that, I fell asleep with my diary by my side. The following day, my mother dropped me off at the gate of the school. I walked to my class, but unfortunately, I found Mrs Magudulela already in class. I knocked and she let me in. I went to her and put my face close to her ear before speaking.

“Good morning ma’am, I am sorry for being late. May I join the class?” I whispered.

I moved my face away, and she rolled her eyes at me. My face flushed and my classmates could see.

“Why are you late?” Mrs Magudulela said. “You have the nerve to arrive late while you are the dumbest of them all! For your physics exam, you received the lowest mark; you scored 15 out of 100. You are such a disgrace, you girl with skinny legs. You are repeating grade 11 for the third time, but you’re still failing. You should be setting a good example for all of these students. I can only advise you to drop out because you’re wasting your time.”

While Mrs Magudulela was speaking, my classmates were laughing at me. By the time she had finished her statement, I was already looking down at my shoes, hoping to see the earth opening up and taking me inside. I raised my head and my classmates giggled even more.

“The only thing you are good at is styling that empty head of yours!” Mrs Magudulela added. I had black, shiny natural hair, and everybody wanted a piece of it. “Why are you busy opening your eyes so wide?” she continued. “You think you scare me?”

While Mrs Magudulela spoke, I couldn’t even hear a thing because I was fuming. “The day you started treating me like this is the day I lost respect for you,” I said. “You always publicly shame me. You helped my mother steal away something I valued, my dignity. It is the only thing I owned. As my teacher, you were supposed to build me, you were supposed to help me correct my mistakes, and you were supposed to be my shoulder to cry on, not to make a mockery out of me.

“I have nothing left to value because you took away my pride. You turned me into a joke, and I think you’ll be happy to hear that you’ve finally defeated me. I can’t do this anymore. I know that this is my future, but still. You cost me my future, so thank you.” While I was loudly saying this, tears were rolling down my face.

When I was done speaking, I stared at Mrs Magudulela, and her eyes were glassy. I turned my back to her and, because of anger, I stumbled out of her class.

Tell us: Why do you think the teacher is so nasty towards Azania?