Based on a true story…
“Every year, about 40% of students fail the bar exam,” Mr Adebayo, our Criminal Litigation instructor, announced nonchalantly to the whole class. “We get about 1,000 students writing resits every year. Some even take it for the fifth time and still fail.”
Every time I think about Mr Adebayo’s words from the start of Bar 2 semester, my heart dances makossa. Some days, it moved like leg work, stomping and stomping in my chest until it felt like it was about to explode.
The Nigerian bar exams were known to be some of the most agonizing and gruesome exams any student in the country could ever face. The stories were so terrifying that I heard there was always an ambulance parked outside every exam hall during exam season. I’ve also heard stories of students passing out halfway through the exam. Even one case where a student died from migraine caused by overstudying. Just last week, I heard about two people who committed suicide last year because they failed. It was all too scary.
With only one week left until the bar exams, I felt the world crumbling around me. I had spent every night of the semester studying and attending group meetings, convinced that would be enough to do well for the exams. But as I practiced a few multiple-choice past questions, all I could say was, “Omo! Omo o!” Oh my God. “I’m in trouble.”
I sat on my bed, surrounded by a mountain of law books. How do I cram 20 weeks of material for all five courses in one week? My heart pounded heavily in my chest. I reached for my Corporate Law notebook, but my hands began to tremble, as if a force was pulling me back from the danger that lay ahead.
Without thinking, I grabbed my Professional Ethics notebook and tried to read, but the words blurred together, refusing to make sense. My mind was a chaotic mess. What if I fail? What if I let Mama and Baba down?
I fell to the floor, wailing, my body shaking in fear as I recalled every warning my parents gave me before I started law school.
“Ada, better do well o! Remember Ngozi and Chukwudi are looking up to you,” Mama warned me, referring to my siblings. “You have to lead by example because this is a family of lawyers. Your siblings will follow in your footsteps, so don’t make any mistakes, or else they will make one too.”
“Nne, your mother and I have sacrificed so much for you to take over the law firm,” Baba said. “So you must come out with a first-class, you hear? None of these 2:1 or pass marks. Go and make us proud.”
At that moment, all I could think about was the disappointment on my parents’ faces. I imagined seeing my exam results and the words “FAILED” boldly written. I pictured myself returning to the Abuja campus to write resit, my head hanging low in shame. The lecturers mocking me, calling me an unserious and good-for-nothing law student, when I had been studying tirelessly all semester. But nothing seemed to make sense.
The fear of failing was like a heavy weight pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I knew I should be studying, but the anxiety was paralyzing. The more I worried, the harder it became to focus.
A soft knock on the door broke the silence. It was Chiamaka, my best friend and study partner. She had been with me through all the ups and downs of law school. As she walked in, she gasped and rushed to my side on the floor.
“Adaeze, are you okay?” Chiamaka asked, pulling me off the floor.
“Chiamaka, I—I can’t breathe. This bar exam is killing me.” I panted, my chest tightening and sweat dripping down my face. My heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst.
Chiamaka quickly took me to the school’s clinic, where the nurses attended to me. By nightfall, I lay motionless on the clinic bed, staring up at the dark, empty ceiling, which felt like a perfect reflection of my life right now.
“You had a panic attack,” the head nurse had said earlier. “It’s very common among students when the exams are near.”
“What if I fail?” I asked her, tears streaming down my face.
“It’s all in your mind, Adaeze. The fear has not happened yet, so why are you making it a reality already? Thinking about it too much will only bring about the unexpected results. Don’t you know that as a man thinketh, so shall he be?”
I sighed. I felt like a failure already. It was only a matter of time before my parents accepted that fact.
“Adaeze,” Chiamaka said, emerging at my bedside and setting a food basket on the table. “How are you feeling now?”
“I’m scared. Chiamaka, I’m scared.” I began to bawl again. The pressure was too overwhelming. The whole world was watching me and it felt like I would let them down. Sometimes, I just want to disappear and never return again. This exam would be the death of me if I don’t run.
She reached out and took my hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “Adaeze, you’ve worked so hard. You’re one of the smartest people I know. You’ve prepared for this.”
“But what if it’s not enough?” I whispered, my voice shaky. “What if I mess up?”
Chiamaka squeezed my hand tighter. “It’s normal to be scared, but you can’t let that fear control you. Think about why you started this journey. You’ve come too far to give up now.”
I looked into her eyes, trying to absorb her words. I knew she was right, but the fear felt so overwhelming. I had always been the one who excelled, the one who never failed. The thought of stumbling now, at the final hurdle, felt unbearable.
Chiamaka’s voice was soft but firm. “You’ve done everything you can to prepare. That’s all anyone can do. And even if things don’t go as planned, it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still strong, and you’ll still have people who love and believe in you.”
I took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. Chiamaka was trying to help, and I appreciated it more than she knew. The fear hadn’t disappeared, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming as before.
“Thank you, Chiamaka,” I said quietly. “I’m going to try and study again.”
She smiled and gave my hand one last squeeze. “That’s the spirit. Remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all in this together.”
As I returned to the hostel, I felt a small flicker of hope. The fear was still there, lurking in the background, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been. I picked up the law book again, determined to keep going. This time, the words on the page started to make sense.
I knew the fear of failing would never completely go away, but I also knew I had the strength to face it. I had come too far to turn back now, and no matter what happened, I would keep moving forward.