It was indeed a marvellous day, a day of joy, pride, and bittersweet farewells as students of both the junior and senior high sections gathered for their long-awaited graduation ceremony. The school grounds buzzed with excitement, laughter, and vibrant colours as students, parents, and teachers came together to celebrate not just academic achievements, but the end of a chapter and the beginning of another.
On this special day, students were presented with awards recognizing their hard work and excellence throughout the academic year. For Celine Kingsley Ehizojie, the day held an even deeper significance — for the first time in many years, both of her parents were present to witness the ceremony. It was a rare moment, one that she had dreamed of, and their presence made her heart swell with a quiet joy. She sat with them, quietly hopeful, her aunt Loveth beside her, ever supportive.
The air was filled with emotion as students exchanged farewell gifts, memories, and laughter. There were performances — dancing, singing, dramatic acts, and costume displays — each a testament to the creativity and spirit of the graduating class. As these unfolded, Celine remained seated with her family, her eyes flickering between the stage and the faces of her parents.
But as the awards segment of the event began, a heavy silence settled over her heart. One by one, names were called. First prize, second prize, third prize. Best in Mathematics, English, Science, Literature — award after award, name after name, but hers was never mentioned.
Celine's heart began to race. Her hope turned into doubt, and doubt into dread. She tried to keep a brave face, but her hands trembled in her lap. Her parents, too, began to shift uncomfortably in their seats, their expressions clouded by silent disappointment. Her father's sigh cut through the noise louder than the applause that filled the hall.
Then came the worst blow — Julia. Celine's longtime nemesis, the brightest in their class, had once again swept through the awards like a storm, claiming nearly every academic recognition. As she passed by, her eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction. She leaned in close, her words sharp as knives.
"What a shame, Celine," Julia whispered, mockery dripping from every syllable. "Not even one award since junior high? What a disgrace. Just look at your parents. I pity them. Truly, I do."
Before Celine could respond, her aunt Loveth shot up in her defense, her voice clear and stern. "How dare you speak like that? Is this how you were raised — to mock others? To show such arrogance and disrespect? You may have awards, young lady, but your character is empty."
Julia smirked and flipped her hair. "There's nothing wrong with my character, ma'am. I'm simply stating facts. Right, Celine?" She glanced down at her, still smug.
Celine said nothing. Her head was bowed, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Loveth shook her head in disgust.
"Your character stinks," she snapped.
Julia only laughed. "Thanks for reminding me, aunty. I stink — of awards!" With that, she strutted off, followed by her clique, their laughter echoing behind them.
Celine's father sighed again, deeper this time. "If she didn't have my nose and her mother's eyes," he muttered, "I'd think she was switched at birth."
Just then, the MC returned to the microphone, calming the murmuring crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please settle down. We are not yet done with the awards. There are still a few very special recognitions left — ones that truly speak to the character and spirit of a student, not just their grades."
The hall quieted.
"For the very first time in our school's history, we are introducing a unique category — the PNMM Awards: for Punctuality, Neatness, Modesty, and Manners."
A ripple of surprise swept through the audience.
"Yes, you heard that right. This award recognizes the often-overlooked values that shape not just great students, but great people. And this year, we have just one name on that list. One student who has demonstrated unwavering consistency in these qualities. A student who never sought the spotlight, yet shone in ways that truly mattered. The kind of student every teacher is proud to know. The kind of student we want others to emulate."
Celine looked up, her heart pounding again — but this time, with a different kind of fear.
"Please join me in celebrating someone who embodies punctuality, always the first to arrive and the last to complain; neatness, in both appearance and work; modesty, in her humility despite challenges; and manners, in how she treats everyone around her with kindness and respect."
A dramatic pause.
"The recipient of this year's PNMM Award — and the only recipient — is none other than Celine Kingsley Ehizojie!"
There was a stunned silence. Then thunderous applause erupted across the hall. Her parents stood, speechless, tears welling up in her mother's eyes. Aunt Loveth clapped the loudest, her smile wide with pride. And Celine — shy, kind-hearted Celine — slowly stood, her hands trembling again, but this time with joy.
As she made her way to the stage, heads turned. Even Julia's smug smile faltered. For once, the quiet girl had not only been seen but celebrated — for who she was, not just what she achieved.
And in that moment, under the warm lights of the stage and the cheers of the crowd, Celine realized that some recognitions go deeper than trophies — and that the things done with heart and consistency never go unnoticed forever.