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28/12/2024

Build the Tomorrow of Your Dream Today.

*Attention!* *Attention!!* *Attention*Dear You,How successful have you been this year in your business, at your place of...
14/12/2024

*Attention!* *Attention!!* *Attention*

Dear You,

How successful have you been this year in your business, at your place of work, in your service delivery duties and even as a parent, preacher or student?

Have you been successful?

Or you have been struggling to achieve some success?

HOW SUCCESSFUL HAVE YOU BEEN SO FAR?

Highly successful? You need to remain successful.

Somehow successful? You need to scale up.

Not successful at all? You need to work things out.

Are you worried about how to be on the path of success this coming year?

Worry no more as the way to the path of success is at your doorstep!

Kindly join us from December 29th to 30th, 2024 for an End-of-year Transformational Programme for entrepreneurs like you tagged:

*Unleashing Your Potential: Effective Communication and Sales Techniques for transformational Success in 2025.*

Do you want to miss this?

I don’t think you want to miss this opportunity.

How much is the ticket?

Guess…

It is absolutely free.

Join the WhatsApp group below for updates as the days draw closer:
https://chat.whatsapp.com/BERS6O0sCvr3NiYndXKmU6

See you there.

CHARLES GOES TO SCHOOL.L. A. Oyagaba Abah.EPISODE 1: The Early Days of CharlesCharles Onyejonchi entered the world with ...
31/05/2024

CHARLES GOES TO SCHOOL.
L. A. Oyagaba Abah.

EPISODE 1: The Early Days of Charles

Charles Onyejonchi entered the world with bright eyes and a gentle cry. His mother, Onyeche, cradled him tenderly, oblivious to the challenges ahead, anyway.

To Charles' mother, he's not just a blessing to her, but a lifter of reproach of 15 years of what people around her described as barrenness.

The husband, Onyejonchi, got married to another woman after five years without a child with Onyeche.

The birth of Charles wiped her tears away.

As months passed, Charles rarely smiled and avoided eye contact. His mother noticed his delayed speech and repetitive behaviours.

She took Charles to different hospitals, just to be sure all was well with Charles.

Every well-meaning but vague reassurance from doctors added to her worry.

Deep in her heart, the mother knew her precious baby was different.

"Autism Spectrum Disorder," a specialist hospital finally diagnosed.

The weight of those words crushed the mother's spirit.
Alone and overwhelmed, she cried herself to sleep, clutching Charles to her chest.

Charles' meltdowns became more frequent and intense. His mother felt utterly helpless, watching him struggle.

Determined to get help, she took him to various hospitals, but each specialist offered only brief guidance.

"Follow this routine," they advised, but the mother found the practical application daunting and elusive.

Her hope dwindled further.

One day, driven to despair, his mother made a desperate decision.

She took Charles to an orphanage because the weight was only on her, hoping they’d provide the care he needed. The husband, Onyejonchi, cared less about the worries and the burden his wife carried. "This is not the kind of son I waited for for many years", he would say. "This is obviously not my son", he would add.

"We don't have the resources for children with special needs," the director of Precious Kids Orphanage Home said gently.

Charles' mother felt a new depth and pang of despair. Where else could she turn?

That Sunday, the mother found solace in her church.

She sobbed quietly in a corner, feeling utterly lost after the Sunday service.
A soft voice interrupted her thoughts from a corner. "Are you alright?" It was Mr. Ojema, a child development psychologist.

Ojema listened patiently as the woman poured out her troubles, tears streaming down her face.

Ojema's eyes softened with understanding. "You're not alone," he assured her. "I know a place that can help."

He told her about Adorable Children Special Education School, a beacon of hope for children like Charles.
The woman's heart lifted slightly, daring to hope once more.

The next morning, she reached out to Adorable Children Special Education School on phone. The warm voice on the phone reassured her.

"Bring Charles in for an evaluation," they said. That night, Charles' mother barely slept, her mind racing with possibilities. Could this finally be the answer she was seeking?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Is an autistic child a blessing or a curse to his or her family? Follow L. A. Oyagaba Abah through the life of little Charles in school.

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L. A. Oyagaba Abah is a teacher and a writer. He currently teaches in a school where inclusive education is practised.

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Kindly follow this page and stay tuned for the subsequent episodes.

Thank you for reading....

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My speech on TEDx platform this year. As a teacher, I see this almost everyday. Most students feel cheated already by th...
15/05/2024

My speech on TEDx platform this year. As a teacher, I see this almost everyday. Most students feel cheated already by this singular action of their parents. Watch, listen and be guided

Many professionals are in the wrong professions as a result of wrong choices during their formative years. Many parents impose careers on their children. Sup...

THE NIGHT WAS SHORT by L. A. Oyagaba Abah~Enugu, 2021.The night began with determination. First, it appeared like a past...
08/04/2024

THE NIGHT WAS SHORT by L. A. Oyagaba Abah
~Enugu, 2021.

The night began with determination. First, it appeared like a pastor on the altar –the message was clear or the warning. It was a message full of warning against distractions and temptations. I entered the night with determination as well –to stay awake and make the expected day ahead worth living through writing.
I arranged myself and my writing arsenals. “Nights are for writings”, I said with broad smiles on my face. I fixed my mind on just one thing –the plot of the narrative I was about to write. “This night, I must write myself into real world”, I told myself as I sipped my hot tea that left burnt sensations on my tongue. I didn’t bother; it’s normal for one's tongue to get burnt while taking hot tea. I began to write myself with joy and with speed and with traces of anxiety which I try so hard to push out but kept popping up.

I continued writing myself until my plot became complex; that was already midnight –maybe 12:16 am. That was when Devil sent his agents. Yes! Witches and wizards came to me. They showed me my bed and how well-dressed it was. My eyes became heavy and peppery and watery. I yawned a thousand times in sixty seconds. I didn’t bother. They told me my story was difficult and I should better quit it than to waste my time trying to write what won't be written ever. I didn’t bother. My determination was quite high and I liked it. They said there were movies in my laptop that I could watch at that point in time. I didn’t bother. After all, the movies could wait till the following day, but my story may leave me if I didn't write it down.

A witch lady tiptoed into me
She demanded I kiss her; she begged even. I looked at her; I didn’t see her as much as I saw her beauty. Now I bothered. I slowly put off my fingers from the keyboard of my laptop, and I contemplated. I looked away from her lips as fast as I could but my mind was there,not my heart anyway. My heart was racing fast; faster than cheetah. I had only kissed once; it was a bad experience. I feared another bad experience.
The Bible says, “flee from every appearance of evil”, I heard the voice of my pastor reecho. “Kissing is bad”, I said. “Kissing is evil”, I said. “Let me flee as Joseph fleed”, I admonished myself. I stood to go but the witch lady was still staring at me, adamant. I was moving away but my legs could not move; it was as if they were fettered. “The Spirit is indeed willing but the flesh is weak”, I heard my pastor telling me again. “Lord, I need a miracle”, I mumbled out a wish or prayer. I heard my pastor's voice: OYA, RECEIVE! Immediately, I moved, leaving the witch lady and others (my roommates who were sleeping) in the corner of my room.
I went out. I looked up; the sky was clear and calm. The stars were all busy in the sky. I wished I could see Angel Michael or Angel Gabriel in the sky. I also wished I didn’t see any angel. My mother said the day I see angel, my brain will scatter or one of my brain chambers will melt and I will start smiling only all through my life and be drooling. I didn’t want to see any angel again when I remembered my mother’s caution against seeing angels.

Somehow, I felt I was free. My heart was no longer racing. “Witch lady should have gone”, I said and left for the corner of my room to resume the writing of myself.
It’s already 4:45 am. The night…? It’s short. My fingers have climbed the keyboard of my laptop and I hope to write myself into the reality of my dreams, but my story is staring afar off looking like gravels that must be gathered before building will commence..

05/04/2024

Please, listen and send to any school platform or your children teachers and various platform. Things are happening.

May the labour of our past Heroes not be in vain.
01/10/2023

May the labour of our past Heroes not be in vain.

You can't explain the relationship between a teacher and his student. Teacher Oyagaba has written a letter to his high s...
01/07/2023

You can't explain the relationship between a teacher and his student. Teacher Oyagaba has written a letter to his high school student.

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