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And here—if you are curious—is the longer story of how the Lithuanian language found me.

Let’s begin with my slightly crazy grandparents and my parents, who spent their entire lives in Vilnius. That makes me a third-generation Vilnius native, which is relatively rare and has strongly influenced the way I speak.

My friends often tell me that I sound as though I have come straight from Lithuanian national television. I can probably blame my grandmother for that. She spent her entire professional life working as a bibliographer at Vilnius University, and precise, beautiful Lithuanian was always extremely important to her. In some way, a love for the language has always been in my blood.

At the same time, I understand perfectly well that most students do not want to speak like television presenters in every situation. They want to adapt, connect with people and feel natural in their daily lives. That is why we spend a lot of time working with casual language, slang and the Lithuanian that people genuinely use in ordinary conversations.

I strongly believe that students should know both sides of the language: beautiful, precise Lithuanian and the living, flexible Lithuanian used in everyday life. Language is a living organism. It should help you communicate appropriately with people who care about precise speech, while also allowing you to relax and speak naturally with friends, colleagues and strangers.

Lithuanian was always special to me

I was passionate about Lithuanian from a very young age.

From the fifth grade, I would even wear special accessories or dress a little more carefully on the days when we had Lithuanian lessons at school. Those days felt important to me.

Naturally, ordinary school lessons were never enough. From the fifth grade onwards, I spent my weekends studying with two private tutors: one for Lithuanian literature and another for grammar. Still, I never felt that I knew enough. There was always something else I wanted to understand.

After school, everyone—my family, friends and teachers—believed that I had only one possible path: Lithuanian Philology at Vilnius University.

Children are often asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Interestingly, I was almost never asked this question. Everyone seemed to know the answer better than I did.

The path everyone expected me to take

Straight after school, I enrolled in the Lithuanian Philology programme at Vilnius University, one of Lithuania’s most respected universities.

The programme was impressively broad. We studied Latin, Latvian, English, Ancient Greek, Lithuanian literature and many other subjects. We even spent half a year analysing the Bible as a literary and cultural phenomenon.

On the one hand, it felt like a dream coming true. I worked hard and received a scholarship awarded to approximately three per cent of students.

On the other hand, I began to feel increasingly lost.

The time was approaching when I would have to decide whether to specialise more deeply in grammar or literature and whether I wanted to continue with a master’s degree or even further academic studies.

The more I studied, the less certain I became. Almost everything was interesting, but nothing touched my heart deeply enough. I had an enormous passion for Lithuanian, yet I still did not understand what I was supposed to do with it.

Eventually, I decided to take a gap year and explore that question through real life rather than academic theory.

Searching for the practical meaning of my passion

I travelled through India for six months and volunteered in an international community. I wanted to understand more about the world, its people and the needs that existed beyond the life I already knew.

There, I met many highly educated people who were deeply devoted to their own fields—languages, science, culture and other subjects. Their passion was not merely theoretical. It was alive and connected to something practical.

I wanted to find the area in which my abilities, curiosity and passion would meet. I wanted to discover my own sweet spot.

When I returned to Lithuania, a friend unexpectedly asked me to help a foreigner who urgently needed Lithuanian lessons.

I agreed.

The moment I started teaching, I felt an immediate urge to continue. It was as though those first lessons had found me and finally given a practical name to the passion I had carried for so many years.

I had not planned to become a private Lithuanian teacher. The profession appeared almost accidentally—but once it arrived, it felt completely natural.

Within a few months, I had more students than I could ever have imagined. I became obsessed with creating explanations, exercises and teaching methods. I wanted to understand exactly why something was difficult for a student and how I could make it finally become clear.

Eventually, I decided to pause my university studies so that I could devote myself completely to private teaching.

The university administration was shocked. I struggled to explain my decision. All I could say was that, after so many years of questioning the purpose of my passion for Lithuanian, I had finally found something that was calling me—and I could not ignore it.

Where I am now

And so, here I am.

I have now taught more classes than I can count, and I have watched many students progress from knowing almost no Lithuanian to communicating with genuine confidence and fluency.

When I made such a dramatic change in my life, I assumed that eventually I would become tired of teaching. I imagined that the initial excitement would disappear and that I would calmly return to university to complete the path I had originally started.

Instead, the opposite happened.

My enthusiasm has continued to grow.

Perhaps one day my academic journey will continue in another form. I do not need to decide that now. What matters most is that I finally know, through real experience, where I am exceptionally strong and where my passion can bloom in a practical way.

Teaching Lithuanian is the place where my knowledge, curiosity and creativity meet another person’s desire to understand, communicate and belong.

After years of searching for the purpose of my love for Lithuanian, I no longer need to search.

It found me.