Once, a young boy received a book as a gift from his grandparents. The boy's grandpa loved to play the accordion, so it was no surprise that the book was called 'Jaunasis pianistas' (The Young Pianist). However, it was still magical to the boy. He had been dreaming of learning how to play since he first saw the instrument. The excitement couldn't be held any longer. He turned the first page.
'The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled,' he read on the first page. It was the foreword to a teacher.
But this is not a story about learning piano or music. It's a story about teachers and teaching.
In my 6th grade, I had to choose a secondary language at school. Between German and Russian, the first one looked more interesting to me. So I chose it. What I didn't know is that for the next 5 years, I would have to endure a teacher who smiled at the beginning of the lesson and screamed at the end. She got angry when somebody made a mistake and called people idiots when they couldn't remember new words.
Five years is a long time. She did manage to fill my head with German words and grammar rules. But along with that, she filled me with pure anger towards the language and everything related to it.
At the end of the 10th grade, she came to us with her typical fake smile, saying how much fun it would be if we chose German for higher grades. Finally, I could tell her what I thought in her own language.
The last 12 years were enough not only to bury the words I used to know but also the hatred. Yesterday, I took the book again and started 'den Staub entfernen' (to dust off). It took me 12 years to get back to the starting point. For those who still have a "but" in their heads, I emphasize: a bad teacher can't teach you anything, even in 17 years (I think we could safely approximate this to a lifetime.)
Was I the only one? No, I wasn't. My friends experienced the same frustration, and my classmates endured similar difficulties. Even the younger pupils were not spared from the challenges. Among them was my brother, who is ten years younger than me. He, too, had the misfortune of "learning" from the same "teacher." Later on, he switched schools but unfortunately ended up with an even worse teacher. I did try to advise him to choose a different secondary language, but like me, he wanted to learn German."
Yesterday, I mentioned to him that I had started learning the language again. He gave me a long, deep look, but with all my effort, I couldn't decipher what was happening in his head.
'The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.' - Plutarch.
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