(I am dad’s girl, never descended his English proficiency)
I am never ashamed to admit my schooling hasn’t started until I was 6th grade (I can see you wondering “how on earth?!”). My initial 10 years were those where going to school was quite a rarity (sorry, no English medium was provided in local schools). It was when my beloved dad, who taught English by profession,also my first English teacher started transferring his legacy through “parts of speech”. My interest towards english was confined to those stories in English reader books since they stood as the mere refreshment I had from the annoying maths class( mom got the shit outa me when she taught divisions).
Dad’s never been a happy person when it’s my grammar usage. He has this trait of perfection hence my grammatically poor English was always beyond his tolerance. My kid brother being creative since birth employed few strategies to skip dad’s punishment but never rescued his poor sissy. I never had this urge of speaking rich English and impressing dad(seldom did) but all I tried was to avoid dad noticing(dissecting in reality) when I deliver those words of glory.
Another instance that raced my level of embarrassment was when dad showed his student’s note books and asked to improve my handwriting. After which, I harboured this habit of pleading his own students to fill my notes when my kid bro busied himself practising good hand writing(he still does) and emerged as a proud son.
Dad’s students love him very much as they were never punished nor his fury was least shown. I love the love they shower on dad and pity myself for the never ending triumphs I exercise to please him. Eventually I incepted the art of reading and compelled dad to reluctantly acknowledge my remote progress 😀
But I call it a success when his future son-in-law would be enough skilled to speak the language or enough wicked to escape his English corrections
Inspiring Story in English SWEARING ON THE DICTIONARY
Author: Harshitha Bedadala