la clase de espãnol
2006-09-15 - 9:25 a.m.
Okay.
I love my Spanish class. It's at the local community college, but the class itself is on campus, which is nice, somehow -- it's in the English building. Beyond that, the teacher is great. I think he may be from Chile. He speaks nothing but Spanish. We watch movies and read essays and discuss them. They're interesting, so far -- all about the fall of Allende. Best of all, though, are the other students -- How can I explain this -- some actually are community college students. In fact, I think the bright guy with the best spanish is in fact a community college student. There's a black man in his 50s, I'd guess -- he looks like a school administrator -- whose Spanish is not great. There are several old ladies like me -- most of whose Spanish is quite good, much better than mine. Most of them have a leftist sort of bent. There's a middle-aged man whose Spanish is worse than mine. There are several people in their late twenties, male and female, and they all speak very well. I suspect that they are college graduates who are just interested in learning Spanish.
It's such a community, though. We're all there because we want to speak Spanish. We speak earnestly about the films we see and the books we read, and because our grasp of the language in the best of cases is not completely stellar, even the tiniest statement is a triumph, and nothing is too minute to talk about. Even those of us who can't say much (me and the school administrator, for instance) try, and everyone is rooting for everyone else.
Plus, there is something about school that warms the cockles of my heart. I can't explain it, but I love it. Usually.
In other news -- the house is great. The kitchen is great. Unbelievably great. I feel like we have a real, grown-up house at last.
And now I really must go --
