It was a park, though it hardly qualified as one. There was a narrow path running through it, two old benches opposite each other were shaded by some ancient trees, and the narrow foot-worn path served as a shortcut to school, for many students.
For me, it was a place to walk through, especially when I was running late or when I didn't want to use the school's front gate.
Yet, Mr. Bello always sat on that same bench almost every morning, with a book in his hands and a brown suit that was too stiff for this tranquil place. His hawk-like eyes behind his glasses watching every student that walked by.
But I disliked him. Intensely.
He was, by far, the harshest teacher in the school. He demanded essays twice as long, used the red ink like he really enjoyed using it, and insisted ninety was “falling short” — I mean ninety out of a hundred.
I was one of the best in the class, and the best in his subject — English Language, and with that came the most criticism. This infuriated me greatly. Every single day, “You can do better.” These words stung like no other.
During the lunch break one afternoon, after yet another stinging correction, I stormed out of the class and found myself in the park. I threw my bag onto the bench opposite me, planning to cry my heart out.
Seconds later I saw him making his way towards me. I quickly took my bag to leave when I heard him say;
“Running away doesn’t make you less brilliant."
“Why do you hate me so much?” I snapped, “I work hard, and still nothing is good enough for you!”
He studied the pigeons pecking at a piece of wood before replying, “I don’t hate you. I see far more in you than you allow yourself to see. That’s why I push you so hard." He tapped on the notebook in my hand. “The world needs that brilliance.”
I quickly turned away, to hide the tears that were threatening to spill.
A week later, I saw that he had left pamphlets in my desk—scholarship opportunities, university forms.
I didn't even bother to read them, I shoved everything into my bag. I was preparing for my SSSCE examinations and didn't want distractions. Infact I didn't even want anything to do with him, he must have deduced that from my body language.
But that didn't deter him.
One afternoon, out of curiosity, I asked, “Why do you keep leaving these in my desk?”
"It's your way forward," he said. "I feel your future is bigger than this little town. And money should not be the reason you stop. Apply for the scholarships and if you need my help for anything, just let me know."
I laughed; “I don't think I can win something like that."
He smiled, "You think too small. Haven't you heard the saying? Some things are written in the stars. You don't fight the stars. You just follow them."
The words stuck.
The bench soon became our "special" spot. During lunch break, I would sit with him while he took me through filling of forms and writing of long essays. He would have me rewrite drafts until my fingers were cramped, corrected my grammar until I wanted to scream, and drilled me with mock interview questions until I simply lost count.
Sometimes he was curt.
“This answer is lazy. Try again.”
Sometimes he was warm.
“This line is beautiful. Stick with it.”
Over time, I started to respect him, not just as my teacher, but as someone who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.
One day, with a quivering lip, I asked, “Why me? Why do you care?”
He pushed his glasses up. "Because when I look at you, I see a future far too bright for you to waste. A future already written in the stars."
As the day for the scholarship interview approached. I became so nervous.
"I'm not ready," I whispered during one of our meetings.
"You are," Mr. Bello said strongly. "You have prepared so well. Now trust yourself.
The interview came and went.
Months passed before the letter finally arrived. Congratulations... you have been awarded...
I didn't walk to the park. I ran, waving the piece of paper. "I got it!" I yelled, panting.
Mr. Bello's stony face finally softened into a smile. "I told you," he said proudly." Then his smile widened as he pulled me into a bear hug.
I see myself years from now, returning to the park as a graduate, to the bench weathered with time. I would sit again, running my fingers along the cracks in the wood. The place where it all started.
I smiled through my tears. Tears of gratitude.
Once, I hated Mr. Bello so much. Now, I owed him everything.
Images are AI generated.
🌸My Motto is: Work at making myself proud of myself.🌸
Thank you very much for taking time to read me. Have a wonderful day!
Truly, running away is never the answer to anything. Mr Bello helped take your life to where it was meant to be. Congrats and this is a beautiful story
Most students think their teachers hate them when they don't praise them the way they expected. The truth is too much praises brings comfort, and too much comfort leads to failure. That teacher in your life was a God sent..
There are just somethings we can't run away from, so it's best to just face it head on. The sooner we understand that whatever we are doing should not necessarily be for the reason of receiving praises the better for us. The mistake of too much praises is that it can make us relaxed and unmotivated to aim for more.
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This story is moving. I love how the bench transforms from an ordinary seat into a place of growth and transformation. The tough love of Mr. Bello, mixed with his belief in you, shows how mentorship can change a life. The ending at the bench, with gratitude and tears, beautifully ties it together. Truly inspiring.
The image combination is really perfect. Also, I can relate to what you have written in this story. I used to be scared of my mathematics teacher and anatomy lecturer. Infact, they were my role models. ☺️😊
You remind me of a friend in school, he is called felix and he told me to always aim for the stars. I love the beautiful story of yours. I have been running all my life and I think I have to face my progress. Some times the people who look wicked are the ones who love you. Mr bello is right.
There are teachers who demand from us, and we may think they hate us, but the truth is, many just want us to excel. A very pleasant experience to read.
Thanks for sharing your experience with us.
Excellent Wednesday.
A story well told, of how one person can immensely impact the life of another. You surely owe Mr Bello so much, for bringing out the best in you.