How I Got Used to Poor Performance in School

By Azuka Onwuka
I was not a greedy child …😊
I never coveted scores or grades. Never craved for positions.
I was satisfied with my position somewhere in the middle of the class –
Between the 10th and 20th positions in a class of 30 pupils.
Safe. Normal. Invisible.
I didn’t want to be seen as an extremist.
But I desperately wanted something…
A bicycle.
I always tried to ride any available adult bicycle.
One day, I rode one without brakes, crashed into our house and broke a tooth.
Papa noticed all this. Then one day he said to me:
“If you take first position, I’ll buy you a bicycle.”
I rolled my eyes.
To me, he was simply saying he didn’t want to buy it – in the language of adults.
Because “first position” and “Azuka” did not belong in the same sentence.
The top three positions were reserved for the know-it-all children of teachers and civil servants who made us look like dullards, not for me, whose parents didn’t finish elementary school.
But a strange thing happened.
In my Elementary 4, I took the 8th position. It sounded unusual.
Then for the first time, I began to read my books after school.
Before then, I didn’t believe schoolbooks were meant to be opened at home.
That was why they were called “SCHOOLbooks,” not homebooks.
Then I came 3rd in the second term.
When my name was called before the school for a handshake with the headmistress, I thought it was a prank.
Then the third term came, and I came 2nd.
Suddenly, what I thought was impossible began to look suspiciously possible.

Then in Primary 5, the unimaginable happened:
I came first.
Me, first?
A week before Christmas, Papa bought a bicycle for me from Avon Cycles.
Brand new. Stainless.
It was more precious than a private jet.
I still remember how it smelled.
How I decorated it.
How I rode it like a royal limousine.
And how other children begged me to let them ride – even for a minute.
Having won the Golden Fleece, how could I return later to my parents with any result lower than “1st”? It meant studying harder. It meant pursuing excellence in all things.
I learned something from the experience:
A kept promise can change a child’s destiny.
A broken promise can crush it.

Papa could have said, “Next year.”
Or “We’ll see.”
Or “You’re young; you don’t need a bicycle.”
Instead, he made a promise and kept his word.
From that day, I understood something I now teach as a communication strategist:
People don’t rise to pressure.
They rise to clarity.
My father didn’t say, “Do well.”
He gave a clear target, a fair reward, and a message that quietly said, “I believe you can do this.”
This incident did three things to my young mind:
- It created belief – If I worked hard, good things were possible.
- It created trust – My father’s word meant something.
- It created identity – I started seeing myself as someone who could win.
Many years later, when I teach communication, leadership, or motivation, I still return to that experience.
Because in communication:
Your promises shape people.
Your consistency shapes culture.
Your integrity shapes destinies.
One bicycle.
One child.
One kept promise.
And a lifetime of belief was born.
You were born to excel – to soar like an eagle.
If you challenge yourself, if you spread your wings, you can soar beyond your imagination.


