Tales of Light

EPIC FAIL

I walked with purposeful steps towards Prof Gregory's office, myriads of unpleasant emotions brewing in my veins.

How could he?
I knew he hated me, but how on earth could I fail ARC421?

Earlier that morning, we got the announcement on our class's hangout group that our Structures result had just been released.

I rushed over eagerly to Level Four Studio where the result was already pasted on the announcement board.

Lolly and Benjamin were already there and met me first. They seemed to be battling two emotions - joy and devastation.

"How was it?" I asked, looking between them.

Benjamin sighed. "Well, Lolly and I passed."

I smiled. "That's great news!"

If they passed, I was sure I aced it.

Lolly placed her manicured fingers on my shoulders and shook her head, looking at me sadly.

My smile morphed into perplexity. I pushed past them and went through the throng of students surrounding the board. I scanned the list till I got to my name.

32F. What?!

I knew I spent so much time and effort studying for the final examination, especially ARC421.

Plus, the terms of my scholarship don't cover an extra year.
If I didn't find a solution to this menace, I would be stuck in a place where I practically knew almost no one. Maybe I would even get deported.
I had to do something, and fast.

Getting a scholarship to study architecture at the University of Manchester was an answer to my prayers.

Yes, I was what you could call an academic genius. My passion to study architecture was obvious to those who knew me.
When I sent applications to foreign universities, I never expected to be considered by one of the top schools in the US offering my dream course.

The four years of studying architecture so far have been an exciting journey. But yes, being a black transfer student, I felt the racism stewing underneath the surface.

Not all of them were hidden. Take, for example, the case of the reason for my current bad fix, Professor Gregory Stall.

When I first met Professor Gregory, I thought he was a stern owlish man.
His piercing blue eyes contrasted sharply against his olive skin which was wrinkled by age.

As he introduced himself as the lecturer that would be teaching us Architectural Structures in our 4th year, his eyes landed on me, the only black kid in the class.

"Hey, you," he said in his deep bass voice as he pointed at me. "What are you doing here?"

His tone was so derisive that I was stunned for a second.
I rose, grasping for what to say.

"Um, good day sir, I'm James Animashaun," I stuttered.

"I asked you a simple question. 'What are you doing in my class?', not 'What is your name?' If you are lost, I can ask one of my students to accompany you to the Janitor's closet, Mr Animal or whatever you say you're called."

I gulped, deeply hurt.

"I'm sorry if I annoyed you sir, but I'm also a student. I'm taking this course."

At first, he seemed very shocked and a thousand questions flitted through his eyes. But he was fast to mask it with irritation.

He narrowed his bespectacled eyes at me and asked, "You're a Nigerian, yeah?"