Another Reason You Should've Stuck With High School Spanish
And it has nothing to do with Juan or Paco, but I'd be happy to tell you where they're from, what they like to eat, and all about their height, hair color, and personalities.
Happy Saturday to you.
Starting right off the bat with a flashback to my teen years.
And while there’s a lot to say about my perm, baggy trousers, and shaker sweater, I’m not talking about 80s fashion.
I’m talking about high school Spanish - the class many of my friends took for two years and then stopped after meeting the minimum requirement for college. In my house, two years wasn’t an option; in fact, it was never a question. I was expected to take Spanish all four years. This came from my parents as well as my older siblings, but my mom especially pushed it. One of her life goals had always been to learn Spanish. (She kept a copy of Spanish Made Simple on her nightstand for as long as I can remember. ❤️)
Unlike piano (which was also supposed to be a lifetime thing, but my parents let me quit because every practice session led to an epic meltdown), I didn’t fight the “force” of Spanish. If you’ve followed me for a while, you know I’ve got
an obsession a thing for Spain and Spanish.
When I got to my first high school Spanish class, I felt overwhelmed.
How was it that I was going to learn the entire language?
How would I ever get to the point of having actual conversations?
It just seemed like a lot.
Luckily, my teacher (shoutout to Sr. Scharpf) knew the entire class felt this way and assured us there was a method to learning a language that would eventually make sense.
And sure enough, the more I studied, listened, and practiced, the more the language came together. By the time our class went to Mexico my senior year, I not only could ask where the bathroom was, but also order a cerveza. (Which is another story…)