I began taking Spanish in seventh grade. We were required to take a certain number of Foreign Language credits from junior high up through high school graduation. It seemed a natural thing for me to choose Spanish for a number of reasons: being part Spanish, having a VERY Spanish last name, having a grandfather who spoke the language.
I quickly found out that it was not my strongest subject. I had to work hard to get even a B in Spanish. Although I caught on fairly quickly to the writing and reading aspects of learning the language, SPEAKING it was my downfall. Even in English, I preferred the written word to the spoken. I suppose it makes sense that that also applied to Spanish.
For some reason, I stuck with Spanish throughout high school. I was in love with the language, I was determined to make myself fluent. The mediocre grades were not for lack of trying.
When I looked at colleges, I didn’t really give a thought to their foreign language programs. It wasn’t my strong suit, and I didn’t expect I’d do more than take the basic classes (if I couldn’t test out of requirements).
Somehow, Spanish became my minor. I took every class offered, I tutored students at lower levels, I helped the Spanish professor a lot. I continued to get just average grades.
I became frustrated with my lack of fluency. Truthfully, I think I was heartbroken that a language I had come to love so much did not come easily to me, ever. I think I’m still sore about it now, ten years later. Now, I have to add a certain bitterness that I let all of that determination and learning time go to waste. The only thing I use my Spanish for now is to read books in Spanish to my children.
