Primary education: the beginning.

Soundtrack.

I think I began studying English in 3rd of Primary Education, if I'm not mistaken. I also think it was an extra curricular activity, because I remember part of my friends leaving the classroom and wishing us a happy English learning. I think that is my first memory of English: my friends leaving the classroom.

What a trip was about to start.

I don't remember much of these first classes of English, nor my attitude towards it or how I felt. I do remember my teacher next year: Milagros H., aka Mila. I will never forget her. I was terrified of that teacher. Literally terrified. She was a small, angry woman who would shout a lot to us and always seemed to be in a bad mood. I wasn't the only one afraid, obviously: the rest of the class was terrified as well. I remember one guy making fun of Mila in one of the playground breaks and he would say something like "Mila is very, very dangerous!". Turned out Mila was just behind him, and I remember the shiver coming down my back and the fear of being punished. Nothing happened, luckily.

I was a very shy and silent child, and I would rarely participate in her classes. Consequently, I seldom was the centre of her criticism. However, I had to watch how she humiliated my friends and classmates, which would make my participation even less often. I remember one time she literally screamed to one of my friends that he would never be anything in his life, and that he will end up looking for food in garbage containers. I am not making this up, and I am not exaggerating: she said that to one of my friends, in front of the rest of the class. That moment will ever be stuck in my memory, indelible.

Obviously, I was terrible at English. How could I be good, if I was so frightened of her? Every time I opened my mouth in class and I said something wrong, she would then correct me in a bad way - which made me feel awkward and ashamed. It happened once that she asked something to the class, I raised my hand excited, because I thought and knew the answer. She picked me and I said it but I was mistaken. She laughed at me and the rest of the class did so. I am not sure I ever participated in class again.

I was, therefore, anything but confident about my English skills. And that lack of confidence was about to accompany me in the years to come. Didn't matter how many extracurricular classes I took: the problem was within me, and only me could put a solution to it. I was going to need much more than extracurricular classes to help my confidence problem.

Now that I look backwards I see how terrible teacher Mila was. At least, for me. The reason why I hated English so much during the years to come was her, her teaching and her practices. She made it difficult, terrible - instead of making learning a new language into an enjoyable, fun activity she turned into something difficult, awkward, even shameful, for some of us. Despite this, I hold no rancor towards her. I didn't hate her then, and I don't hate her now. She was not a bad person. She was teaching the way she thought best: being authoritative, moody, angry. And old as she was (she was about to retire), there was no time for her to question or change her methodology.

Outside the classes, she seemed much more approachable, less angry. I wonder now if that angry Mila I met in class was just a disguise, or if she really felt that angry.

God, I wish I could to her now. She would be probably very surprised I ended up teaching English.

So am I, Mila. So am I.