Loving Me

Chapter 3

"So, this brings us to the end of today's lecture." Our lecturer, Mr Durojaiye said into the microphone in his hand, and my eyes darted to the wall clock above his head.

We had only used thirty minutes out of the two hours meant for lecture and I rejoiced internally at the thought of going home now.

I was forced by my conscience to attend in the first place, and I have regretted that decision since I walked in, until now.

"Class, this is going to be the last time we gather together for a lecture in the next few months. The remaining classes will be taught through practicals."

Practicals? This was going to be one heck of a class.

I didn't want to think of the  consequences of taking practicals for a course. And I remembered that this was a university, its life was very stress free, so it shouldn't be a problem. Or what could be stress less as having freedom to the extent of deciding when to attend lectures?

"Excuse me, please. I want to take a call and I want absolute silence." He said and he stepped to a side of the class to call.

Surprisingly, the class did make noise to the extent that I wondered if they heard a word of what the he had said. I was scared that he would be angry, but again, this was a University, he couldn't flog us. I had always been a sucker for floggings and I avoided it at all cost. It puts me in a draining situation of being the main focus at that time, and also trying to manage my every actions.

After some minutes, Mr Durojaiye came back, shaking his head. "You people can't keep quiet for some minutes?"

The class went silent as if it was really remorseful.

Naughties.

"Well, it's a situation that you would learn to control in the next few months." He shrugged.

He signaled, then some students filed in and went to meet him. After a few minutes of talk with them, Mr Durojaiye turned back to us. "I will give you all a number now, stick to it."

He started the numbering with the first person at the front edge of the class and then the next, going between the numbers, one and two. When it got to my turn, I was numbered one.

After he finished the process, he asked us to file out to the open space outside the class which we all did.

So far, I didn't have a problem with everything we did. No attention was directed to me as I flowed with their moves.

"I want the number Ones at a side and the number Twos at another." Mr Durojaiye instructed.

We shuffled into each other trying to follow Mr Durojaiye's instruction. After some minutes, we managed to arrange ourselves. I stood at the back with my gaze down. I had no friend to talk to or stand with like others.

"Okay," Mr Durojaiye's cleared his throat, "like I said earlier, you will be having practical aspect of this course. It's already in the name, Theatre Workshop.

I hope you all know it's a three unit course. And it's compulsory for every English Arts student."

What the fuck? Compulsory? Okay, Idera, okay. Be optimistic.
It can't be that bad. I was already starting to have a bad feeling about the course my mind had just wandered to the possibility of dropping it.

"These people right here are 400 level students," he pointed to the students that he was talking to earlier, "they will supervise you in the plays I will assign to each groups. They will lead you at rehearsals, and after that you will make a presentation at a chosen date, the outcome will be their final year project result and your semester's results, so I advise you don't joke around with it."