When I search my mind for someone who has impacted on my life, Mr. Sharil James steps out the first. He is an English teacher who i met during my secondary school life. I am really surprised at the truth, for my respect and hatred for him are way too complex.
I was graduated from a Chinese primary school where the only teaching medium is the Chinese Language. Thus, my English profiency is kind of low. I had very limited English vocabulary in mind and I cannot speak fluently in English . Realizing the importance of English language, my parents decided to send me to an English secondary school in order for me to boost up my master of English language. I was really scared when I first thought of entering a 'foreign' school; I was sure my nightmare would begin soon. Yes, indeed. My bad dream started when I met with Mr. Sharil on the first day of secondary school life.
When Mr. Sharil first entered the class, he began bawling at us to greet him. He made us repeating the greeting until he was satisfied. He then proceeded to introduce himself and his class rules. I was shocked when he claimed himself as a walking dictionary and told us never challenge him. I was sure he was insane and only lived in his own pride. I had never met someone as haughty as he was, never in my life. Then, it was our turn to present ourselves. Finally, I stood up and began to introduce myself. I was paused by him when I said I was from a Chinese school. With a tone filled with sarcasm, he asked, " Oh a typical 'half-blood' Chinese man who fights to retain his personality as a Chinese. So, why don't you return to China, your beloved homeland? Pathetically, you will not be a pure Chinese in this country." My face turned red in embarrassment as I couldn't answer him. Since then, my hatred towards him grew unrestrained.
Throughout the five years in my secondary school, I had never enjoyed English language class. The presence of Mr. Sharil was a black spot on my life yet his presence was my best motivator. Mr. Sharil had never failed to fill his class with his scornful criticisms, unfair bias and exacting demands. He would not miss the chance to lecture students who had made mistakes in his class. Consequently, my broken English had always caused me to be the target of his blame. I always belive in the old cliche, ' where there's a will, there's a way'. In order to free myself from his mock, I decided to improve my English skills in every way I could. I started to read my first English novel, 'Among the Hidden' written by Margaret Peterson Haddix and I even listened to English songs. Besides that, I realized the importance of writting and thus poured in more effort in my essay writing. However, I was nearly daunted by him a few times as he would read out loud in class a few essays including mine in order to discuss the mistakes made. Fortunately, I was sturdy enough not to give up easily. From then, my English skills improved tremendously and I was no longer Mr. Sharil's laughing stock.
Obviously, Mr. Sharil's impact on me can neither be ignored nor erased. Even though I may not agree with his teaching method and his sarcastic remarks, but I really appreciate them as they pushed me all the way through the struggles to where I am today. Though my hatred for him has yet to diminish completely, my respect for him grows stronger and stronger.