March 10
1370 Words
There is something about final year that makes memory softer.
Not fragile.
Not faded.
Just gentler around the edges.
Today in Election Law, I found myself watching Dr. Chike Obi as he adjusted his glasses and leaned slightly against the desk, speaking in that steady, deliberate tone of his. And it struck me every level of this journey has had a favorite. One course that felt less like a requirement and more like a mirror.
Five years.
Five levels.
Five favorites.
And somehow, each one arrived exactly when I needed it.
100 Level — Legal Method
Lecturer: Dr. Akinola Adeyemi
100 level Elle was eager and terrified in equal measure.
Everything felt ceremonial the way lecturers walked in with quiet authority, the way case names were spoken like sacred texts, the way older students discussed grades like they were discussing inheritance.
Legal Method was my first anchor.
Dr. Akinola Adeyemi had a calm discipline about him. He did not rush explanations. He wrote slowly. Spoke clearly. Expected attention without theatrics.
He once said:
“The law is not complicated because it is wicked. It is complicated because it has memory.”
That sentence rearranged something in me.
Legal Method taught hierarchy of courts, judicial precedent, ratio decidendi, obiter dicta — but beyond the technicalities, it taught structure. It showed me that law is layered, intentional, historical.
One afternoon he asked:
“Why do we follow precedent?”
We gave the expected answers. Certainty. Stability. Predictability.
Then he asked, “What if precedent protects injustice?”
Silence.
That was the first time I realized law is not automatically moral.
Legal Method became my favorite in 100 level because it removed the fog. It gave me tools. It made me feel like I had been handed a compass.
And for a girl who was scared of not measuring up, that compass meant everything.
200 Level — Law of Contract
Lecturer: Mrs. Bisi Ogunleye
Second year stripped away comfort.
Law of Contract was sharp. Precise. Unforgiving.
Offer.
Acceptance.
Consideration.
Intention.
Capacity.
Privity.
Mistake.
Misrepresentation.
Frustration.
Mrs. Bisi Ogunleye did not entertain laziness. Her questions landed without warning.
One morning she asked me:
“Miss John, if I promise to give you my car out of love, is that enforceable?”
My heart pounded.
Affection is not consideration.
I answered carefully. She nodded once.
That nod felt like surviving something.
But the real reason Contract became personal was a memory from years ago my uncle arguing with his landlord over an unexpected rent increase. Voices raised. Documents brought out. Words like “agreement” and “notice” thrown around like weapons.
At the time, I only knew it was unfair.
In 200 level, I understood why.
There are rules to promises.
There are boundaries to power.
Contract law made everyday life feel legally significant. It told me that agreements are not just conversations. They are frameworks of responsibility.
And during that year, I was learning the weight of responsibility too.
300 Level — Criminal Law
Lecturer: Professor Musa Balogun
Third year was intense.
Criminal Law felt alive.
Professor Musa Balogun did not simply teach. He narrated. His hypotheticals felt like short films.
“Imagine a man enters a room…”
And suddenly we were jurors.
Actus reus.
Mens rea.
Strict liability.
Self-defense.
Provocation.
Insanity.
Criminal Law fascinated me because it balanced blame and humanity.
One lecture on insanity unsettled me deeply. He asked:
“If a person does not understand the nature of his act, who exactly are we punishing?”
That question lingered long after class ended.
Criminal Law forced me to confront moral discomfort. It exposed how thin the line can be between justice and vengeance.
I remember studying late one night while laughter echoed from the corridor. Inside my room, I was reading about homicide. Outside, life was carefree.
Criminal Law made me aware of consequences permanent ones.
And that year, I was learning that adulthood, too, comes with irreversible decisions.
400 Level — Evidence
Lecturer: Dr. Nkem Okorie
By 400 level, I had stopped trying to impress everyone.
I was quieter. More observant.
Evidence surprised me.
It looked dry on paper admissibility, relevance, hearsay, confessions, burden of proof but Dr. Nkem Okorie turned it into strategy.
She once said:
“The truth is not enough. It must be proven.”
That sentence unsettled me.
Because it meant justice is procedural, not emotional.
Evidence taught discipline. It demanded restraint. It required separating instinct from admissibility.
There was a class where we debated whether a confession obtained under subtle pressure should stand. The room divided into careful arguments. No shouting. Just reasoning.
Evidence felt like maturity.
It required patience.
It required emotional control.
And by 400 level, I was ready for that kind of intellectual steadiness.
500 Level — Election Law
Lecturer: Dr. Chike Obi
Now here I am.
500 level.
Election Law.
Dr. Chike Obi teaches with composed intensity. He does not rush. He builds arguments layer by layer until the entire framework stands clearly in front of you.
He once said:
“Democracy fails quietly before it collapses publicly.”
That sentence has stayed with me.
Election Law is not just statutes and timelines.
It is nomination procedures.
Campaign finance regulation.
Electoral offences.
Petitions.
Tribunals.
Judicial interpretation of contested mandates.
But more than that, it is legitimacy.
Dr. Obi has this way of pausing after asking a question, allowing the discomfort of not knowing to stretch long enough for someone to attempt an answer.
He makes you think.
There was a lecture where he broke down an election petition step by step, showing how technical non-compliance can invalidate overwhelming votes.
I remember leaving that class unsettled.
Because power, I realized, is both mathematical and fragile.
And perhaps that is why Election Law feels fitting for 500 level.
Final year is about systems.
About how authority is formed.
About how easily it can be challenged.
And Then International Law
Lecturer: Professor Adebayo Salami
If I am honest with myself, though, one course quietly rose above the rest.
International Law.
Professor Adebayo Salami walks into class like a man who understands borders emotionally. He speaks about sovereignty and jurisdiction as if they are living negotiations.
One day he wrote on the board:
“Are borders moral?”
Not legal.
Moral.
State sovereignty.
Recognition.
Treaties.
Customary international law.
Human rights.
Jurisdiction.
Migration.
International Law stretched me beyond my immediate environment.
When we discussed brain drain, he asked:
“Does a citizen owe loyalty to a state that cannot guarantee opportunity?”
The silence that followed felt heavier than any answer.
International Law connected law to geography. To identity. To movement.
It made distance analytical instead of just emotional.
It made me see my country not as an isolated experience, but as part of a larger global negotiation.
That is why International Law is my favorite.
Because it is expansive.
It asks the biggest questions.
What do nations owe their citizens?
What do citizens owe their nations?
Where does belonging begin?
Where does it end?
Legal Method gave me structure.
Contract gave me responsibility.
Criminal Law gave me moral tension.
Evidence gave me discipline.
Election Law gives me perspective on power.
But International Law gives me horizon.
And maybe after five years of becoming, horizon is what I need most.
When I look back now, I see growth hidden inside preference.
100 level — I wanted clarity.
200 level — I wanted fairness.
300 level — I wanted justice.
400 level — I wanted certainty.
500 level — I want legitimacy.
And beyond all of that, I want understanding.
Five years ago, I was afraid of not being good enough.
Today, I am less afraid.
Not because I know everything.
But because I know how to question.
And somewhere between lecture halls, highlighted notes, midnight revisions, and whispered prayers before results,
I became someone steadier.
Maybe that is what each favorite course really represents.
Not just academic interest.
But a version of me.
And if anyone ever asks which course owns my heart completely
It will always be International Law.
Because it reminds me that the world is wider than my fear.
And I am allowed to take up space within it.
- Writer
