Why We Learn Language: A Teacher’s Legacy Beyond Exams

We’ve all had teachers who left their mark on us—some through discipline, some through encouragement, and a rare few through something even greater: belief.

I remember the year I was placed in EM2, a system that, at the time, dictated a student’s academic potential based on exam performance. I didn’t fully understand what it meant, but I felt the shift immediately—certain friends drifted away, expectations lowered, and I found myself boxed in by a label I hadn’t chosen.

I resented it. Not just the label, but the way it made me feel—like my abilities had been decided for me before I even had the chance to prove otherwise.

Then I met Mr. Lin Min.

The Teacher Who Saw Beyond the System

Mr. Lin Min was my Primary 5 English teacher, though to simply call him that would be an understatement. He was unconventional, the kind of teacher who didn’t seem particularly interested in the usual rigmarole of drills and worksheets. Instead, he was curious about his students, about what made them tick, about what they saw in the world beyond the classroom.

He never once mentioned my academic stream. Instead, he talked to me about stories, ideas, and perspectives. He introduced literature as more than just comprehension exercises, but as windows into other minds, cultures, and possibilities. He had this way of making language feel alive, like it wasn’t something to be conquered for a test but something to be explored, shaped, and understood.

Then, one day, he asked our class a question .

“Why do we learn language?”

…At that time, the only thing I could think of was the terrible timing of his question, asked five minutes before recess time. Obviously, in our hurry for food and fun before the queues could form and time would dwindle, we fired off whichever answer seemed fit then.

“To pass examinations!” Oh dear god, no.

“To graduate from university and get a good job!” Boring!

“Because we have to!” I remember this answer had come from the class clown, much to everyone’s amusement.

Except for Mr Lin Min. Oh, he wasn’t amused. Oh, he was not amused at all by our answers-more disappointed at our antics, really. At that point, having probably realized that he wasn’t going to keep us engaged any more than the chime of the recess bell did, he did not press us for more answers, simply dismissing us for break.

But the lack of answers caused me to chew on the answer throughout the entire recess duration.

Why… do we learn language? Why indeed, when nearly every teacher I have ever met always emphasized on the importance of excelling in Mathematics and Science? So, I thought about it. I mulled long and hard over it.

Funnily enough, I gleaned the answer on a completely random day, unprompted and reading a Chinese storybook, no less. Throwing it aside (much to the disdain of the school librarian), I scurried off in search of Mr Lin Min. I found him in the staff room, poring over paperwork and gave my answer.

“We learn language so that we can talk to other people more!” …When what I really meant to say was that we learnt language so as to establish communication between two or more parties with the goal of understanding and collaboration across geographical and cultural boundaries.

Now, as an adult and a teacher, I completely understand and feel the secondhand embarrassment from my younger self those years ago. Anyway, I digress.

I remember prattling away when Mr Lin Min pressed me to elaborate. I had talked about how I enjoyed reading and understanding passages in my favourite storybooks. It made me feel as though I were right there, living in the heart of the beautifully crafted descriptions of scenery and emotion. I had gushed about how I enjoyed listening to and understanding dialogue between two or more characters in my favourite television shows. It made me feel as though their conversations included me and made me part of their story.

I know I had talked, quite smugly, about how being able to do all that in the English and Chinese languages made me feel as though my world could expand beyond Singapore into other countries, even if I had yet to obtain my passport for travel. Of course, my repertoire of languages would eventually come to include Japanese and Korean but let’s save that for another time.

To me, then and now, language is the pair of intangible but very real wings on my back that allow me to take flight from the gates of my house and the study of language is the constant shedding and regrowing of the feathers that keep my flight smooth across geographical and cultural boundaries.

…Silly me.

It had not occurred to me then, as a child, to ask Mr Lin Min that same question in return. After, all, he was the adult. Surely, he knew the answer and was just teasing us students, making us run around in circles for answers.

Now, all I want to do is sit down with him over coffee and debate our answers to his question: Why do we learn language?

I suppose… there is one barrier language can never cross. Time.

But perusing the English worksheets he had dispensed over my last two years of Primary school and hearing his tutelage echo once more in my ears, I cannot help but ponder: Or can it?

How Language Learning Changes You

At that age, I didn’t fully grasp what Mr. Lin Min was teaching me. But over the years, as I studied different languages—Chinese, Japanese, English—I began to understand:

Learning a language isn’t just about words. It’s about seeing the world differently.
When I learned Chinese, I saw how every character carried history, philosophy, and layers of meaning beyond what was spoken. When I explored Japanese, I discovered a culture where nuance, politeness, and unspoken words were just as powerful as those expressed. And with English, I experienced how a global language could take on different flavors in every country, shaped by the people who spoke it.

Each language unlocked a different way of thinking. And once you experience that, it’s impossible to go back to seeing language as just a subject in school.

Carrying That Legacy Forward

Today, as an educator myself, I often wonder: What kind of teacher do I want to be?
The answer always leads me back to Mr. Lin Min.

I want to be the kind of teacher who doesn’t just teach language, but reveals its depth and power. Who sees the potential in students even when they doubt themselves. Who makes learning feel less like a chore and more like a discovery.

And I believe education should be more than just skills training—it should be about perspective, curiosity, and connection. Because in the end, what we remember most about learning isn’t the tests we passed, but the moments that changed the way we see the world.

This belief is what shaped The Language Studio (TLS). I don’t want to just teach Chinese, Japanese, or English just for the sake of fluency. I teach languages as a means to explore culture, identity, and self-expression. I train my students not to just memorize words; but to experience the richness of how language connects us to history, traditions, and new ways of thinking. 

Whether it’s an adult learner picking up Japanese for the first time or a student rediscovering the beauty of Chinese beyond textbooks, the goal is the same: to make learning meaningful, personal, and inspiring.

An Invitation to Reflect

Who was the teacher that changed the way you see learning?