There was a lot of waiting. We took a placement test with three parts: multiple choice, writing, and verbal. The instructors walked by and pulled students one by one for the verbal portion which took place in another classroom. The instructors are strict about not speaking or responding in any other language besides Spanish.
When I was mostly complete with my placement test, I was led to a classroom by one of the instructors. She invited me to sit down in a desk and look over my multiple choice answers. She responded with a lot of "muy biens," and asked if I knew the subjunctivo. I fumbled in my response, but tried to get out that I knew the subjunctivo, preterite, and imperfect about fifteen years ago. My verbal portion of the test was miserable. I noticed after the awkward repeating of questions and me trying to maneuver my responses to use the infinitive forms of verbs, she checked off all 1's straight down on her form for where I would be placed in class. I told her I agreed with that, and she smiled. Definitely a level 1.
Another one of the instructors, a young guy who looked like he combed his hair with a fork and smelled like cigarettes, led us on a tour of the neighborhood solely speaking Spanish. There was a 40:1 student/teacher ratio. He didn't wait for people to catch up. We got what he was saying, or we didn't.
I didn't get much.
We were then led into a restaurant for breakfast. The tables were all set up for us with pitchers of water, coffee, and milk as well as churros, bread, butter, and marmalade. I was sitting with a group of girls from Brazil. I always thought that Spanish and Portuguese was similar until today. I only picked up two or three words out of their whole 35-40 minute conversation (entonces and cuando). Needless to say, I had a very quiet breakfast by myself, but I was also taking the opportunity to notice what was going on around me -- there were other Americans, Germans, and some other people from England and Australia. The age seemed to range from late teens/early 20's to people in their 50's-60's. Some people grouped themselves by a common language, or used the opportunity to begin conversing in the Spanish that they came with. And then there were a handful of people like me that didn't say anything beyond "Gracias" or "Pardon."
When we returned to the school, we received our materials and waited for our names to be called to be led to our classrooms. Me and an English teacher from England named Martha were led upstairs to a class that was already in session. She and I were asked to introduce ourselves with these prompts from the teacher: ¿Como te llamas? Me llamo...; ¿De donde eres? Soy... I was surprised by how overwhelmed I was. Beyond the introductions, there was no context for the lesson I was thrust into.
The class included me, Martha, a young woman from Bangkok (the brains of the class -- everyone deferred to her for questions when the teacher repeated directions, questions and answers in Spanish) two Australians, an Austrian, and a fellow American named Matt who lives in LA and likes to lift weights. He can't be older than 25.
About fifteen minutes in, Martha walked over and confided to me that she was not comfortable with this at all; that she is a true beginner, and asked if I wanted to go speak to Pedro (the jefe) about changing classes. I told her that I was just trying to follow along. She left, and when she returned, she apologized to everyone that she couldn't stay, and that she wanted to go to a class that she felt was more on her level. She gave the teacher a hug, and now my class is a little smaller.
One of the first pieces of advice I got from one of my classmates, Matt from LA, was to download Google Translator on my phone. I know that Google translator is a pet peeve of the language teachers of the school where I work. After he said this, I looked at the teacher and she didn't say 'yes' or 'no,' so I now have the Google Translate app on my phone. The Australians and the Austrian and are keeping it real with their paper dictionaries.
I was only in class for about an hour, but I was exhausted by the end of that hour. So much of my energy was spent on trying to figure out what to do -- what are they doing? -- what is being asked of me? -- how do I respond? I was just stuck in my seat. Everyone else was packing up, but I just sat there. The teacher, Julia, said to me in English, "You can go." I asked, "¿Tarea para mañana?" Julia said, "No tarea. No preocupados. El primero dia es muy dificil," or something along those lines. I thanked her and turned to leave. Before I walked out the door, she did show me a page in the textbook of verbs that they had already covered. This class had met for a week before today. Every verb they had worked with and conjugated I know. I know comer. I know beber. I even know ser and estar. I even know more than what is on the page.
Where did all of this knowledge go? Language is truly one of those things where if you don't use it, you'll lose it. I lost about four years of middle school and high school Spanish as well as four semesters of college Spanish. Shame on me. I am told by others that it will come back. I'm ready and waiting for it to come back.
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When I walked into class, the other students were working with this page. Notice the lack of instructions.
Dorothy, this post moved me to tears. You have captured what so many of our students experience. I know this journey will make you an even more incredible teacher than you already are.
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