Our English Teacher

I hated our English teacher. I despised her. I loathed her for entering our classroom during our second year in high school just to give us a test. That was our first meeting with her and she gave us a test. Everyone hated her but I'm sure that I felt more hatred. And yes, I didn't know why. I love English. I love Literature. But I hate her.

Spending a school year with her made my life terrible. I despised spending an hour everyday listening to her countless errors (grammar and pronunciation errors). Everyone noticed these, thus, we did not believe her capable of teaching us well. Nobody really knew what things I did because of my hatred. They knew a little of course, but that's not all. Sometimes, I even wondered if she noticed my coldness every time I spoke to her. Call me evil, but I really hated her.

One day, when we were having a class discussion, I was busy scribbling notes on my notebook. I didn't know how she got to the topic about a student from our class who doesn't recite that often but works good on written jobs. I still remembered how she said it. "She only recites when called. But she does well in exams and in projects." The class was shouting their guesses before she called my name, Alyzza. When she left our class, my classmates were teasing me and even called me "our teacher's favorite". It was very surprising to know that you do well in a subject you don't even enjoy.

I was shocked to know that she is still our English teacher this year. The teacher I hated. It was like having a Severus Snape before you read "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows". Oops! Spoiler. Only that, she's not that strict. But I know very well that I must learn to like her now. I can't spend another school year with so much hatred in my heart.

And yes, I learned to like her. I learned to love her. Hers was one of the classes I look forward to each day. Hers was one of the very few classes I enjoyed. I tried to do my very best to accomplish each work she gives us. I can't deny that I get a little lazy at times, but believe me, I spend 2 hours doing my journal each week and I spent a day sitting in front of the computer to finish our short story. The coldness in my voice when I talk to her is gone now. I even greet her "good morning" or "hi" even before she greets the class. I can also joke her now. Haha. I keep on telling her that she's wearing a lot of gold. Her husband just came from abroad and she's wearing a complete set of jewelry (earrings, necklace, bracelet and ring).

She visited us yesterday to tell the others to pass their notebooks so she could grade it. She was supposed to be on leave but she went to school just to check their notebooks. We were teasing her again about her complete set of jewelry. She was laughing and talking at the same time. She happily showed us the groceries she bought (oatmeal, tea, coffee) and I don't really know why. She must be really happy. All we can do is laugh with her.

Yesterday, I experienced being happy seeing someone so happy. I never knew that possible at first. How would you be happy by simply seeing someone so happy? I felt weird being happy for a person I don't even know that much. Anyway, I felt happiness. It does feel good seeing someone truly happy. She must be happy seeing her husband again and getting her family reunited and having enough money to spend at the same time. Maybe it feels better seeing someone happy and knowing that the reason of their happiness is you. Knowing that I certainly am not the reason, why am I happy?