A Crash Course in English by Dave McCaul There were only two months remaining in our last school year when Vilho dropped out. I might have seen it coming had I not been beleaguered by problems of my own, because I had not yet decided on a field of study for the university and was wrestling with the prospect of paying for my school expenses.
Still, I knew exactly why Vilho had done it—he was failing English again. Given the widespread bilingualism of Finland, this was an embarrassing deficiency. There were English-language rock bands on the radio, American programming on television, and Hollywood films in every theater. In Finland, the ability to speak English was no more remarkable than being socially modest or reserved. Yet, Vilho had been struggling with the English language throughout his school life. What really made the situation insufferable for Vilho, however, was the fact that his father was a professor of English literature. Many of Vilho's teachers called attention to this irony, which only compounded Vilho's embarrassment.
Sometimes, helping a person in need is just a roundabout way of helping oneself, and so it was with Vilho and me. We had been through so much together, and I needed him with me at graduation, not just for old time's sake but to help me face an uncertain future.
And so I hatched a plan: I would offer Vilho a 10-day course in English literature, where I figured I could teach him just enough to get a passing grade in his English literature exam so he could graduate successfully.
Not surprisingly, Vilho balked at this. "I've had almost 18 years to learn English," he said, "and you're not even a teacher."
His objections were astute. Still, I reminded him that a tutorship at his home had two distinct advantages over a conventional classroom setting. First, it would be free of social embarrassment, and second, I would be able to tailor the lessons to his individual needs.
Vilho went along with it, but he was like an exasperated parent humoring a child in a game of make-believe. Unfazed, I outlined our first lesson plan. We were going to spend the afternoon watching American films.
"But no subtitles," I said, "and afterward, I'm going to ask you to expound upon the plot points of each of the films—in English."
Vilho laughed at this, and then, despite the awkwardness of the situation, we actually proceeded to watch four films in a row. It was dark by the time we finished. Afterward, snacking on a Karelian pasty, Vilho surprised me with a fairly insightful summary of each of the films.
Each day of the next week, I came up with a new lesson plan. On Monday, we played Vilho's favorite card game, and on Tuesday, we watched a British football match. On Wednesday, I made him translate his favorite Finnish poems aloud to me, and on Thursday, we listened to the entire catalog of a popular English rock band and discussed the meaning of the lyrics.
We carried on like this for two weeks, and although Vilho often resorted to speaking Finnish, I discovered a reserve of patience within myself that got us through the hard times. Vilho, for his part, realized that his English was not all that deficient. On a couple of occasions, he even used a lofty vocabulary word or two with which I was unfamiliar.
Still, a more difficult challenge lay ahead. In order to graduate, Vilho was going to have to beg the school's administrators to let him re-enroll. However, to his credit, he endured this particular trial with remarkable patience, writing a letter (in English, no less) with a promise to dedicate himself academically for the rest of the school year. He was ultimately allowed to re-enroll as a senior, with the caveat that he could not miss a single class.
With his newfound confidence, Vilho told me he felt sure he could pass the English exams, and although I agreed with him, I was also careful to remind him to keep studying. Discussing American cinema with a friend was one thing, but understanding the complexities of English grammar was another thing altogether. When the results came out, it turned out that Vilho was right because he received a passing grade on the test and was allowed to graduate with the rest of us.
Without a doubt, Vilho's success cemented our friendship, but it also taught me something important about myself. Although my tutorship had been brief, I had discovered a love for teaching. It had taken Vilho to show me that there was a field of study I wanted to pursue after all. When I enrolled that summer in the University of Helsinki, I was able to confidently declare my major: education.

This is not the whole text (1 paragraph left). Analyze how the point of view in the passage helps the reader understand the narrator's thoughts, feelings, and emotions. Use information from the passage to support your analysis.