Achievers

 Everyday in school.... we encourage learners to speak in English. There is a girl in my class who prefers mother tongue to English. I asked her why she doesn't want to speak in English. Her answer was quick, simple & precise... "I don't like". I smiled. However, daily class discussions, friends conversations, greetings.... slowly made her make an attempt to speak English. I didn't force her to speak. When she speaks in mother tongue... I will give a reply, tagged with a witty expression and she would try to speak in English with a cute smile. This took me back to my childhood days...

I never really liked English back in school.

Maybe because I began my early education in a small village, where proper language training wasn’t available. I even failed that subject once — in 3rd grade.

I still remember that day vividly — my father hit me with his chappal. It hurt, not just physically, but deeply inside.

Soon after, I was admitted to a missionary school — a place where English wasn’t just a subject, it was a rule.

Every word, every sentence had to be in English.

But I didn’t know how to speak.

Not even a single sentence.

Fear took over me so completely that I fell ill.

I couldn’t explain to anyone what was happening — how helpless I felt inside.

Then, one day, a teacher noticed.

She didn’t teach me English.

She taught me calm.

With her gentle words, she made me believe that I would be okay.

That patience could be a language too.

I stayed quiet for months.

Just listening.

Letting the rhythm of words wash over me.

And then, slowly — almost magically — I began to understand.

By the end of that year, I spoke my first full sentences.

Not perfect, but mine.

Years later, we moved to the city.

And life changed again.

I discovered that newspapers could build my vocabulary, that listening to American and British news could tune my tongue to a new rhythm.

By grade 9, English — the subject I once feared — became the one I loved most.

That’s when I began to write.

Not for applause. Not for approval.

But simply because it felt right.

Writing became my way of breathing — a quiet escape from the noise of the world.

Now, I write everywhere — in my diary, on scraps of paper, in the corners of my thoughts.

It’s my therapy.

My sanctuary.

The silence after the storm.

Perfection is a myth.

Just start. Let us give learners an assurance of safe feeling to start something which they are scared of.

Take one small step, even if it feels uncertain.

Because one day, when you look back, you’ll realize — those small steps were quietly building a little beautiful mind all along.

Jyothi