Labeled a ‘Rejected Corper,’ She Found Strength in the Struggle

When Adesugba Mary, an ex-corper arrived at her place of primary assignment (PPA) in Akwa-Ibom state, she thought she was about to begin her teaching duties like every other corps member. Instead, she was met with a label that would follow her throughout her service year “rejected corper.”

It was not a title she chose for herself, but one that colleagues and superiors threw at her after her first posting went sour. And from that moment, every step of her NYSC journey became a battle between survival, dignity, and resilience.

The First Rejection

Mary’s first posting was to a small secondary school tucked away in the bush. The journey there almost discouraged her completely.

“The road was filled with water , not small water o, big something. The bike struggled to pass, I almost fell inside,” she recalled.

On arrival, the principal welcomed her warmly. But his words dampened her spirit: there was no electricity, and to charge her phone, she would have to trek to the village. Accommodation was available, but it meant sharing with another lady in the same bushy environment.

Exhausted and disheartened, Mary packed her bag, told the principal she would return, and left. She never went back.

Searching for a Place to Belong

Determined not to quit NYSC altogether, she sought another school within her local government. A friend directed her to a private school that badly needed a science teacher, but the proprietress confessed there was no accommodation.

“The little money I had left was for feeding,” she said. “How do I now start paying rent?”

After weighing her options, she tried yet another school. This time, the compound was bigger, fenced, and looked promising. The principal and proprietor welcomed her warmly, offering her N6,000 monthly. It was meagre, but she chose dignity over despair and accepted the offer.

Her journey as a teacher began.

Rules, Restrictions, and Red Flags

Barely had she settled in when the proprietor announced a rule that shook her. Female corps members were banned from wearing trousers within the school compound, not even corporate trousers.

“I just thought, it’s only a year. Before you know, it’s gone,” she said, convincing herself to adapt.

But that was only the beginning. Soon, she noticed friction between teachers and corps members. Old corps members warned her that some male staff had issues with corps members who refused their advances.

“I greeted one man, he refused to answer,” she said. “Am I now part of the fight? I just came back.”

The toxic environment grew worse when the principal sweet-talked her into teaching chemistry in addition to basic science. She was promised an increment but never received it. Later, during a staff meeting, the proprietor declared that corps members must each take two subjects.

When she protested, the proprietor mocked her: “Maybe that’s why your former school rejected you.”

The “rejected corper” tag stuck.

Clashes and Confrontations

If the insult was meant to silence her, it didn’t. Mary stood her ground, insisting she would only handle one subject. This earned her quiet enemies among staff.

One incident nearly broke her resolve. A male teacher instructed her students to stop copying notes she had given them, telling the class prefect to return the lesson note. Shocked, she confronted him.

“He insulted me in front of the principal,” she recounted. “He even told the students not to use my lesson notes again. Then he repeated: “You are a rejected corper.”

For Mary, it was not just an insult but an attack on her work and identity.

A Brush with Danger

Beyond the school compound, her safety was also tested.

One afternoon, she encountered two masquerades wielding long canes on the road. The state NYSC office had earlier warned corps members to avoid masquerades after a fellow corper was beaten mercilessly in another town.

“My heart was skipping,” she said. “I remembered they said we should flee, but where would I run to?”

Instead of running, she stood her ground, speaking to the masquerades in Yoruba. For minutes, they stared, hissed, and swung their canes menacingly before moving aside.

“I was very scared. I thought they would flog me, but at least I didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me run,” she said.

The Bitter End

By the end of her service year, Mary had endured more than she bargained for. From insults and restrictions to being labelled “rejected,” her resilience was constantly tested.

Yet, when it was time to leave, there was no send-off, no appreciation, and no compensation.

“Even what they did for corps members before me, nothing was done for me,” she said. “It was as if nobody even knew I was leaving.”

Still, she insists the journey was not a waste.

“NYSC was bittersweet,” she reflected. “I had sweet moments, I had bitter ones. But it was worth experiencing.”

A Label, A Lesson

For Mary, the “rejected corper” label no longer stings the way it once did. Instead, it is a reminder of her resilience.

She entered the service year unsure of what awaited her and left stronger, determined never to let a toxic environment define her again.

“I’ve forgiven them,” she said. “But I set boundaries. Once you hurt me deeply, I move on. I won’t look back.”

Her story is not just about rejection, but about survival in a system that often leaves corps members to fend for themselves in harsh conditions.

And for Mary, the NYSC year was more than national service , it was a lesson in endurance, dignity, and the courage to stand tall even when called “rejected.”