By Ogungbemi Adeyemi Orimisan
Teaching children goes far beyond lesson notes and homework. For those of us who serve as private tutors, we are often invited into the private spaces of families, where learning, discipline, love, and sometimes neglect intersect. In such spaces, one is confronted not only with academic responsibility but also with moral choices that test character and wisdom.
In one household where I was engaged as a lesson teacher, I noticed a troubling pattern. The children were often malnourished. They ate late into the night and sometimes skipped school meals entirely. From both knowledge and experience, I believe strongly that a child whose stomach is filled with balanced and sustaining meals is better positioned to learn, reason, and excel academically. Nutrition is not separate from intelligence. It is foundational to it.
Driven by concern, I made several attempts to address the situation through respectful entreaties. I offered suggestions and gently raised concerns, hoping that collective effort would improve the children’s wellbeing. At a point, I thought circumstances would change when one of the parents returned from a trip. Instead, I was confronted by the other parent, the mother, accompanied by some friends, and warned not to bring the situation to the attention of the father. She insisted she was doing her best and made it clear that any disclosure could trigger conflict in the home.
At that moment, I faced a difficult decision. Should I insist on speaking out and risk becoming the source of marital discord, or should I exercise restraint in order to preserve family harmony while hoping the situation would correct itself? I chose wisdom. I refused to become the spark that ignited rancour between husband and wife.
Rather than confront the father directly, I tried subtle signals, hoping he would observe that something was amiss. I even declined to assist with collecting the children’s report cards despite his repeated requests, always respectfully encouraging him to visit the school himself. Eventually, I carefully removed myself from the equation. It was not an act of indifference, but of discretion.
A second experience further deepened this internal conflict. I was introduced to a royal household through a mutual friend. Teaching commenced smoothly, but soon I observed repeated disruptions. The children frequently missed lessons due to community festivals or outings arranged by their mother. On many occasions, the palace escorts would return with the children late in the evening, sometimes as late as five oclock. By then, the children still had to search for food before settling down.
Often, I waited until eight or nine in the night, hoping lessons would begin, only to realize the situation had become impractical and unhealthy. When I considered reporting the matter to the King or my friend who facilitated the engagement, the children themselves pleaded with me not to do so. They feared their father would take the matter up harshly with their mother.
Once again, I stood at a moral crossroads. Should I speak up in the name of discipline and structure, or should I remain silent to avoid triggering blame and tension within the family? I chose restraint. I believed that without my presence, the children would still find their path, and that my involvement should not be the reason peace is broken in a home.
These experiences raise an important question for educators, caregivers, and society at large. When confronted with situations that threaten the future of children, is it always right to intervene openly, even when such intervention may destabilize a family? Or is there wisdom in subtlety, patience, and knowing when to step back?
There are no easy answers. Families are delicate systems, and while the welfare of children must remain paramount, how we pursue that welfare matters deeply. Sometimes, protecting children requires courage. Other times, it requires restraint.
This is a conversation worth having.
Netizens, parents, teachers, and guardians, have you ever faced a similar dilemma? When the future of a child appears at odds with family harmony, which path should be taken? Should we save the child at all costs, or preserve the home while trusting that time and awareness will bring correction?
Your thoughts matters.
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