Chapter 4 First Lessons

The next morning, Adanna sat at the kitchen table, sipping milky tea as Mama Rose sorted through a basket of beans. "You're not dressing up?" Mama Rose asked without looking up. Adanna glanced down at her loose black jeans and white blouse. "What's wrong with this one?" "Nothing," her grandmother replied. "But you never know who you'll meet at that school. You want to look like somebody's aunty?" Adanna laughed into her cup. "I am somebody's aunty." "Yes, but you're not their type of aunty," Mama Rose muttered. "You're the fine one." Adanna shook her head and stood.

"Let me go before you start matchmaking me again." Mama Rose chuckled. "Don't worry. I won't say anything... unless he has sense." The classroom Felix gave her was hot and bare, but filled with potential. Dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the louver windows. She spent the morning wiping desks, sorting out an old bookshelf, and setting up her camera on a table. Around 11 a.m., her first students shuffled in-about ten of them, ranging from ages 9 to 13. They stared at her like she'd dropped from the sky. One brave boy raised his hand. "Aunty, are you from abroad?" She smiled. "I used to live in London. But I was born here. Ibadan girl, through and through." A few of them giggled. "I'm Aunty Adanna. But you can call me Aunty Ada. This class is not about perfect grammar or boring theory. It's about seeing. Feeling. Telling stories with pictures." A girl with thick braids raised her hand. "But we don't have cameras." "You have eyes, don't you?" Adanna said. "You can learn to see like a photographer, with or without a lens. Today, we start with light." They walked around the school compound. Adanna taught them how shadows changed shape on different walls. How puddles after the rain reflected upside-down trees. How a cracked window could look like a spider's web. "Photographers don't just snap pictures," she told them. "They notice what others overlook. That's your job now." The kids followed her like ducklings, asking questions, pointing out details. It filled her with a kind of peace she hadn't felt in months. Then, just as they reached the back of the building, she saw him again. Tobi. He was sitting alone on a low concrete step, notebook on his lap, pen in hand. A few of the younger students ran past him, laughing. He looked up, saw her, then looked back down-like he hadn't seen her at all. "Who's that teacher?" Adanna asked one of her students. "Uncle Tobi. He teaches us poems and music. He plays guitar." "Is he always that quiet?" "He's not quiet. He just talks when it matters." She raised a brow. Interesting. Later that afternoon, after she'd dismissed the students, Adanna found herself walking past his classroom. She slowed when she saw him still inside, seated at his desk, packing up books. She cleared her throat lightly. "You stay late." Tobi looked up. His eyes were kind, but unreadable. "I could say the same about you." Adanna walked in, her camera slung across her chest. "I'm trying to bring life to that art room. Thought I'd introduce myself properly." He stood and nodded politely. "Tobi." "Adanna." A pause. He glanced at her camera. "You're the photographer." "And you're the literature teacher who doesn't smile." That earned the faintest curve of his lips. "Maybe I'm saving my smiles for good pictures." She tilted her head. "You think mine aren't good?" "I haven't seen them." "I could show you." He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. But she noticed the way his fingers curled slightly against his notebook. "You don't look like someone who just takes pictures," he said quietly. "You look like someone who sees things people miss." Adanna blinked, surprised. "That's... exactly how I describe photography." "Then maybe I've been paying attention." They stood in silence for a moment. Not awkward, but expectant. Like something was beginning-slowly, quietly, and neither of them fully knew it yet. "I'm here most afternoons," she said, turning to leave. "If you ever want to talk about cameras. Or poems." "I don't talk about poems." "Even better," she said, smiling. "I like a challenge." She walked away without looking back. Tobi sat down, his gaze lingering on the door long after she disappeared. Outside, the sky had begun to turn golden. Children ran home with school bags bouncing. The smell of roasted corn drifted through the air. In the fading light, Adanna tilted her head toward the clouds. She hadn't come looking for connection. But maybe... just maybe... it had found her anyway.