Mrs. Nurse Boy here.
It is confession time around here.
I took 3 years of Spanish. I hated EVERY year of it. Every day of it, if you really want to know. During my first year of Spanish, my teacher refused to speak a lick of English all year (and it only went downhill from there). We even had to pick Spanish names. Mine was Elaina. I simply hated that she refused to speak my language or call me by my real name. I mean, I WASN'T Elaina and I didn't know ANY Spanish. When she called out my "name" it took me a while to figure out that I was the Elaina who was holding up the lesson.
It was a dark time in my life when I realized that I was expected to take 3! years! of Spanish. Why, I would wonder? I would NEVER use Spanish. Why waste my time and my credit hours? I searched for loop holes. I researched other languages to see if they were any easier. The truth became obvious. I would do the bare minimum to survive.
I was a good student in school. I took honors classes and challenged myself in most subjects. I was self motivated and wasn't afraid of hard work. That is until I entered the world of Espaniol.
My Spanish teachers often described a very different student to my parents. "She is quiet, lazy, unprepared, and does not participate in class," they would complain. They seldom shared that I usually earned As or Bs on my assignments. I could study enough to pass the written work, but the class participation was always a struggle for me. When my teachers would ask me why I was a completely different student in the hallways, I would always say, "I don't speak Spanish."
So, I left high school fearful that Spanish would be my demise. I mean, what if I had to take MORE foreign language in college?
I was thrilled to discover that Elementary Education Majors did not have any foreign language requirements. El Ed and I were meant to be! (And, no, that is not why I became a teacher, but it was an added bonus!) I was no longer afraid to admit that the only phrase I took away from 3 years of Spanish was, "No hablo Espaniol!"
That's right, I'll own it. No, I can't ask where the restrooms are, or how anyone is doing, and I don't even know any bad words. I remember nothing. Nada. Zilch.
So, fast forward to my life today. I often find myself surround by Espaniol. I mean, ordering a hamburger from McDonald's often has me crying out, in the middle of the drive thru, "No, hablo Espaniol!" Drat! Those 3 years of Spanish sure could have been handy today. But, it doesn't end there.
We bought the kids a cheap TV for their wii playing. We put it in the playroom and it is only for movies and game playing, with permission. The problem is that the darn TV is mocking me and my poor Spanish skills. One of the kids set the TV on the Spanish mode. (They say it was an accident. Yeah, right!) Every time I go to use the remote, I am greeted with Spanish on the TV screen. You can flash all the Spanish words you want at me, but if it isn't "No hablo Espaniol," then I have NO idea what is being communicated. I can't even make my TV "behave," since it is officially smarter than I am.
So, to all of my Spanish teachers, I am sorry. No, I will not say that in Espaniol. And, my name is not Elaina. But, I should have worked harder.
Maybe then I could order 3 happy meals for my kids without drowning myself in tears of frustration...
6 hours ago