Chapter 2 Learning To Stand Out

Primary school felt like a new country.

The chairs were taller. The teachers didn't kneel to greet you anymore.

And the bell sounded louder especially during morning assembly when the sun was hot and Faith had to squint to see her teacher's face.

She entered Primary 1 with small hands, a big bag, and a pencil that kept getting lost. Her slate followed her from nursery, but now she had an exercise book too the type with two red lines inside the blue ones. The teacher had said,

"Small letters stay between the red lines. Capital letters can go above."

Faith listened carefully. She always listened carefully.

▪️ Singing Her Way In

The first few weeks were mostly songs:"A is for Apple"

"Good morning, Teacher"

"Two times one two!"

She didn't talk much, but she always knew the next line.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was always on key, always on time.

When the teacher said, "Repeat after me," Faith's voice was usually the first not shouting, just sure.

Soon, the teacher started using her voice as a guide for the rest.

"If you don't know it, just follow Faith," she once told the class.

▪️ The Little Notebook

She had a small green notebook her mother bought from the local provision store. In it, she copied every new word the teacher wrote on the board even when others were busy drawing stick figures or playing with broken crayons.

Sometimes the teacher would pause and ask,

"Who can spell 'window'?"

A few hands would go up slow, unsure.

Faith never raised her hand quickly. She always waited. Then she'd whisper the answer when called.

"W-I-N-D-O-W," she'd say.

The teacher would nod and smile.

"Correct. Again. Let others hear you."

Her voice remained calm like she was reading from somewhere inside her head.

▪️ The Girl Who Kept Things Clean

One thing about Faith she didn't joke with neatness.

Her books never had folded corners. Her pencils were always sharp.

She would even tear a page from the back and rewrite an assignment if her first attempt had too many cancellations.

Even as a child, her handwriting was small, rounded, and carefully spaced.

And when it came to her uniform, she never let it slide.

Every school night, she would remind her parents:

"Mummy, Daddy - you haven't ironed my uniform yet."

If they forgot or were tired, she'd bring the uniform herself and wait.

It wasn't pride. It was just something in her that needed things to look right especially when it came to school.

▪️ Third. Then Second. Then First.

At the end of Primary 1, Faith placed 3rd in class. She was happy until her father said gently:

"Third is good, but second is better. What do you think?"

Faith had nodded, but deep inside, something clicked.

In Primary 2, she pushed harder. She started revising on her own. If a word confused her, she'd ask. If she didn't know something, she wrote it down to check later.

When results came, she moved to second position.

That evening, she gave her report card to her mother. Anne smiled and said:

"You see what happens when we try again?"

Faith said nothing but that night, she packed her books like she was training for something.

In Primary 3, she aimed higher first place.

She worked quietly, steadily, not to outdo anyone, but to prove something to herself.

She listened harder, practiced more, and stayed alert in every lesson.

By the end of that term, her name was called first.

The prize was a new storybook, a golden pen, and claps from parents she didn't know. But the real reward was the smile on her father's face and the way her mother hugged her tight that night and said,

"You are becoming something special, Faith. I hope you know."

She didn't know exactly what she was becoming.

But it felt good.

▪️ A Baby Brother, A Bigger World

Midway through Primary 3, her mother's belly began to grow.

Faith watched quietly asking questions when she needed to, helping when she could.

She would sweep the sitting room before school, help her mother balance plates, and take messages to neighbours when Anne was too tired to move.

Then one Thursday morning, the news came:

"Your mummy has put to bed."

It was a boy.

Faith's first reaction was stillness then curiosity.

When she saw him, wrapped and sleeping, she leaned close and whispered,

"You came late, but it's okay. I'll wait for you to grow."

She wasn't jealous.

She just looked at him with the kind of gaze that had questions no one could yet answer.

▪️ Her First Time On Stage

One morning, the headmistress announced that Primary 3 pupils would be reciting poems during assembly.

Faith was chosen.

It wasn't a competition just something to make them more confident. But she treated it like a moment that mattered.

Her poem was "My Motherland." She practiced in front of the mirror, in front of her baby brother's crib, even in the kitchen while setting the table.

On the day, she stood in front of the whole school, hands by her side, voice steady. She didn't rush. She didn't forget. She just spoke, clearly and slowly like each word had waited for her to call it out.

When she was done, the teachers clapped. Some students clapped too. And the headmistress said,

"Well done, Faith. That was clean and strong."

Faith didn't smile big. But her eyes carried something the early flame of someone who was beginning to believe in herself.

That year, Faith grew in more ways than one.

She became a sister. A helper. A quiet leader in class.

But through it all, one thing remained: her books stayed neat.

Her uniform? Always ironed even if it meant waking her parents up.

She wasn't loud, but her growth was becoming harder to ignore.