I had mixed feeling when I found out that Mr Green was going to be my History teacher. His bulky frame that towered over everyone else and the ferocity in his huge eyes never failed to intimidate me. However, many seniors had sung praises of Mr Green’s unorthodox teaching methods, unlike other teachers who taught in traditional ways. He always had his means of making history come alive. That fuelled my anticipation in attending Mr Green’s first History lesson.
Being introverted by nature, I had few friends in school, and I knew no one in my History class. As I entered the classroom on the first day of school, I found a seat in the middle, hoping that it would be a strategic position where. I could blend into the faceless crowd. I certainty did not want to attract the attention of my seemingly frightening teacher during the first lesson. The last thing I wanted was to be called upon to answer questions.
Five minutes passed and Mr Green was still not in sight. My teacher being late for the first lesson was totally unexpected. Perhaps I should lower my expectations and be prepared for a mundane first History lesson instead. As I was about to drift off into a state of daydream, the classroom door flung open forcefully. That jolted me back to reality. A burly man dressed in a bizarre costume swaggered into the classroom.
“Are my eyes playing tricks on me?” I wondered. Standing before me was what appeared to be an Indian Maharaja. It was not long before I realised that that was Mr Green. His dramatisation of a great Indian prince was made even more realistic through the way he spoke and moved. Every word was uttered with a convincing Indian accent. Every movement he made stayed true to that of a real prince. All my fears of Mr Green were unfounded. Mr Green was just a gentle giant, a true educator who sought to share his knowledge with his students in authentic ways.
The three-hour lesson was the most interesting one I had ever had because a seemingly boring topic on Indian history was made alive by Mr Green. I looked forward to the next History lesson, extremely keen to discover other tricks Mr Green would have up his sleeves. Unfortunately, that expectation was never going to be met.
Mr Green never appeared for our second History lesson. Instead, it was the principal who turned up. Taking a deep breath before clasping his hands together, the principal readied himself to speak to us. In a sombre tone, he told us that Mr Green had suffered a serious stroke the previous night. Thus, he would be unable to continue with his teaching duties for the rest of the year. My heart sank upon hearing that.
Even though I had only attended one lesson conducted by Mr Green, I felt as though we had already forged a certain affinity. With a tinge of sadness, I muttered a silent prayer for Mr Green as I did not want the worst to happen to him.