“He who wears the shoe, knows where it pains most” All my life I’ve heard this but never really understood its meaning or will I say in this case never really experienced it. I was a happy and optimistic 17 year old who happened to be enjoying life. I neither had worries or pain. That feeling of total joy that came from having nothing to bother you was what I felt then. It wasn’t as if there were no issues, there were issues but they never really bothered me like this one. I got admitted into the university at that age. So happy and eager I was then that I ventured into school without anything other than a set of pots, stove, a roll of sachet tomatoes and my clothes. Nobody told me how life in the school would look like. I would have put the blame on my mum but she herself wasn’t aware of the way universities were run. I was the first child of my parents and also the first one that would be going to the university in my family. It wasn’t easy. My parents were not twenty first century parents like most students now that would understand the difficulties that school was all about especially state universities. That money is always needed for one thing or the other. Its either we are paying for handout or school stuffs. Anytime I asked for money, they were always complaining about how they just sent 5k last month and I was spending lavishly. Trying to explain to them every time that this was  how it worked was futile. I joined one of the campuses fellowship and became dedicated to doing the things of God. Going for programs, winning souls for Christ, praying and interceding for students. Life was going rosery for me when the first blow came. After payment of school fee and other registration we were asked to make, it was time for the registration of courses and everyone was asked to register. Upon getting there, I was told my name was not on the school portal, that I had to go and complain to the ICT unit so they could rectify it. We were in mass that was having that issue so I wasn’t really bothered. Everyone of us that had a similar problem were directed to the office for the rectification. We were told that it was dealt with and were to check in the next 10min and our names were sure to be there. So excited I was that it was sorted out that I didn’t head to the cafe immediately to crosscheck. I called a friend that runs the cafe the news and asked him to check. I was surprised when I received a call that it was still not reflecting. These was a week to the semester exams and it was a rule that if you didn’t register the courses, you might not be allowed to write the exams. I panicked and went back to their office, laying complaints again and I was told along 15 other students to come back after our exams were already written. They assured us that we would be allowed to sit for the exams. Putting these issue at the back of our minds, we wrote the exams and went back. They worked upon it again and said the same thing. As optimistic as I was then, hoping that everything would work out fine. My mistake was not telling my parents about what was happening. I was scared my parents would demand for me to return home, especially my mom. She was one who worries and concludes matters without hearing any explanation. I knew she would worry and I didn’t want anyone to put the fear in me so I kept it from them. I went home for the first semester break with the same issue on my mind. I couldn’t look at my parents eyeball to eyeball. Anytime they asked about my school stuff, I always lied that everything was fine and most times avoid sitting or having long chats with them to avoid any discussion that might lead to the direction of my wellbeing in school. Second semester came and we awaited our results for the first semester. Everyone saw theirs while mine wasn’t even showing that I wrote the exams. That was when the real panic began. I started moving from one office to another, stating my plight for the whole of that semester. Missing lectures, hours of standing in every administrative office only to be told to come back the next day, missing practicals, spending most of my money on transport and having just egg roll and soya milk to eat for the whole day. It was exhausting but I never gave up. Kept on praying and going about my business. Second semester exams came again and I wrote. Results came out in 200 level first semester, two weeks to the exams and lo and behold, I had eight carryovers. Words can not describe how devastating I felt. It crushed my hopes, dreams, aspirations and a lot of things. I didn’t actually believe so I checked it again. That day, I didn’t cry, I went for a program and even sang the lead for the praise and worship section. It wasn’t until I sat in my hostel that evening that the full weight of what happened hit me. I tried remembering where I got it wrong, was it the lectures I missed – but I know a lot of students like me who didn’t even attend any lectures. If it was because I didn’t read which I knew couldn’t be the case, I read a lot. I tried playing everything over and over in my head, trying to see where I got it wrong but couldn’t place it. Tears of pain flowed down my eyes, my heart felt like it had been shattered into numerous pieces. I never felt devastating before, like