The Rookie's Rukky
Bless your heart 🌹❤️
Senior Rukevwe.
In the jungle that was JSS1 boarding school life, senior Rukky was a breath of fresh air.
You see, in Nigerian boarding schools(or even uni) you didn’t just arrive. You had to survive.
And sometimes survival came in the form of someone who didn’t share your bloodline, but shared her cornflakes. A senior who didn’t owe you love but gave it anyway.
We called her:
School Mother.
Or if you were lucky (and male), School Father.
So, what exactly is a School Mother?
Glad you asked.
A School Mother is not your biological mother.
She doesn’t sign report cards, but she might sneak you an extra spoon of Jollof when no one’s looking.
She will not pay your school fees, but she might feed you Indomie from her own precious stash.
She may scold you like a soldier today, but tomorrow she’ll sneak you cabin biscuits after prep.
She is usually a senior student assigned or self-appointed to take care of a junior.
To look out for you.
To show you the ropes of boarding school survival.
And sometimes, to give you tasks like fetching water or washing socks.
In many schools, this system was almost sacred.
A school mother taught you how to knot your tie, smuggled hot water to you when you had cramps, warned you about wicked seniors, and sometimes, held your hand when the homesickness hit too hard.
But not all school mothers were angels.
Some of them? Hmm. Let’s just say they trained you for adulthood, the hard way.
I dare say, that for every Senior Rukky who saved lives, there was a Senior Beatrice who turned her junior into her house girl. Let’s not lie, kamaparo.
Interestingly, this culture isn’t unique to Nigeria.
In Ghana, Sierra Leone, Kenya, Uganda, and other parts of Africa, the concept exists in slightly different forms.
They may call it mentor-mentee, guardian senior, or house guide, but the heart of it remains the same: older students watching over younger ones in an unspoken hierarchy of care.
In some schools, it was formal, names written on paper, duties assigned.
In others, it just happened. You bonded with a senior who took a liking to you, and boom, you had a protector in the wild.
When you peel back the layers, school mothering/fathering wasn’t just a cultural tradition.
It was training.
It was leadership.
It was emotional intelligence.
It was mentorship disguised as midterm provisions and assignment help.
It was an introduction to the idea that when someone is placed in your care, you do your best not to fail them.
Being someone’s school mother wasn’t about wearing a sash or getting praised at assembly.
It was about presence.
About knowing that this scared, lost, wide-eyed junior was watching you for cues on how to exist in this new world.
And sometimes?
That presence saved lives, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, even academically.
Because life in a new environment could be harsh. You needed someone who said,
"Come and eat with me.”
“Don’t cry, I’ll help you with your assignment.”
“Avoid Senior Bridget, she’s not smiling this term.”
And while it seemed like nothing back then, looking back now, many of us realize:
We were shaped by the kindness of the people who had the chance to care for us.
But again seh, not all were kind.
Not everyone treated the role like a calling.
Some treated it like a throne. A chance to command and control.
Because, which one is,
“Go and fetch me water, big head.”
“Wash my socks before siesta or else!”
“If you report me, I’ll finish you.”
Some juniors became glorified house helps.
Some learned to fear, rather than to trust.
And yet, even those experiences taught us something, about power, about boundaries and about how not to treat people when the tables turn.
So yes, the “school mother/father” role had its saints and its scoundrels.
But the ones who got it right? They stayed with us.
Now, it's July, 2025.
You’re no longer in JSS1.
There’s no bell ringing for dining, no matron shouting about laundry, no inter-house sports to rehearse for.
But guess what?
You’re still a “school mother/father”, just in grown-up clothes. The term has taken other forms; Big bro, choir mistress, team lead, branch manager, fellowship president, dad, mum, CEO, entrepreneur, the list is endless.
You’ve been placed in rooms, positions, roles, friendships, churches and teams where someone is new, younger, more confused or less resourced than you.
They’re watching how you lead.
They’re learning from how you care.
They may not call you “school mother” or "school father" but that’s what you are.
A guide.
A keeper.
A soft landing in a hard system.
I need to take a moment to expressly commend any and every one who has taken up this role in a boarding school or uni or any school at all and performed well.
It doesn't even need to have this same title, but you embraced someone else's child and decided to care for them?
You had WAEC to prepare for, but you still had time to think about a little lad's Milo that got finished and how to get another for them?
You were only a student yourself yet, you decided that this other little girl cannot fail under your watch so you woke them to read too?
Bullies could say, "don't touch that girl, she's senior so so so's school daughter" because of you?
You spoke up for a junior that was wrongly treated, risking the possible hate that could come from standing up to your fellow seniors?
You saw a junior in tears and said, "don't worry, I'll handle it" and that was the end of the problem?
A junior knows, like she knows her name that, I can always run to senior so so so and so so so happens to be you?
You did all that?
Or at least one of them?
Or maybe something entirely different but still positive sacrifice in the best interest of a junior student?
Two words I have for you.
From my heart to yours,
THANK YOU🌹.
May the good Lord bless you.
Now, let’s talk about leadership
This whole “school mother/father” system?
At its best, it was leadership.
Again, it taught us that leadership is about presence, not just position.
It whispered the early truth that:
“If someone is placed in your care, take care of them.”
Leadership, I believe, is not about being perfect.
It’s about being present and intentional.
Whether it’s,
That new intern at work,
The young girl in your youth group,
The cousin who just moved in with you,
Or even your own child...
The question is the same:
“Now that someone is watching me or even when no one is watching, how am I showing up?”
Before we call it a day, lemme gently remind you,
You were once the junior who needed someone to look out for you.
Now, you are someone else’s Senior Rukevwe.
And no matter where life has placed you, someone’s survival, growth or hope might be tied to how you carry your own “school mother/father” title.
My two cents?
Carry it with grace.
Carry it with care.
Carry it with love.
Because when people or even things are trusted into our hands, even if for a period of time, it’s not just a role.
It’s a calling.
Bye Bye✌️❣️
Absolutely love this
Grace to be a dis Rukky to a coming generation. Amen