When I became a junior, I decided to take Latin at school. I was so1about taking that class, and I was fully expecting to be able to2every word I'd ever come across once I learned Latin.
But Latin class was so3. Each day, the teacher Mr. Keady would ask us to open our4and recite aloud the various Latin forms of words. This became the5every day. That was until my hand6one afternoon when we were asked yet again to open our books.
When Mr. Keady asked what was wrong, I7why I thought that his class was dull, how I had expected more, and that his method of teaching was8. When I finished speaking, I9Mr. Keady to angrily send me to the head teacher.
But instead, he sat at his desk quietly, looking defeated and tired. After several moments of10, Mr. Keady spoke. He quietly and firmly said that he would11carefully about what I'd said. And that was it.
In the following weeks, Latin class didn't become the exciting learning environment I12it would, but Mr. Keady did try harder. He brought in some new worksheets and13to involve us students more in his classes.
Maybe some people would14what I did, but even so many years later, I feel bad about it.
If I saw him now, I'd tell him how I15what I'd done that day in class, and that I was disrespectful. And at the same time, I'd also tell him that he taught me a wonderful16that day. Following my17words, he showed me that being18doesn't mean you have to give away your dignity.
Indeed, Mr Keady's19proved that no matter how hurt you feel, no one - no one - can20your dignity.
