When I was 10 years old in Primary 5,
The English teacher turned my torn shorts into her class entertainment.
I used to help her rearrange library books,
But she showed no mercy.
Since we sat on black metallic chairs,
Sometimes they would tear our school uniforms.
After giving us a toilet break,
She noticed a tear near my right behind pocket,
Told me to stand up for an unusually long time,
Read something on the blackboard.
She had never done that before,
The pupils behind me kept giggling.
I felt humiliated.
From that day onwards,
I taught myself how to sew stitches.
My shoes would become unglued at the front,
Because of rainwater and playing soccer in them,
Making classmates joke that they looked like fish.
So I taught myself how to mend shoes using threads.
No more laughing at my misfortunes.
