Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Why I sucked in Spanish

I remember being fascinated with people who didn't speak English.  I wanted to be like them.  So when Junior High rolled around I made the leap into learning Spanish.

Seventh grade.  Senor Cordoza.  I can't do the swirly thing over the "n" in "Senor" so please just imagine it if you could...sorry.  Anyway...He was my teacher.  I think he was a genuine Mexican too.  So he knew his shit.

For some reason our textbooks had not arrived in time for the beginning of school.  So, initially we bypassed actually learning the language and learned about the people of Mexico.  Even made God's Eyes.  Cool.

Then one day we arrived to class.  A spanish textbook was placed neatly at each of our seats....and that's when Senor Cordoza delved into the actual language part.

We started by stating our name...My spanish name was "Theresa"...No, not like "Teresa"...."Tear-ace-ah"...like that...you dig?  I didn't like it but whatever.  I could live with it for a few days a week.

I quickly realized that aside from God's eyes and Mexican food?  Spanish and I didn't jive.  I just didn't get it.  At. All.  So one day in my confusion I finally raised my hand and asked for Senor Cordoza's assistance on a learning exercise in our workbooks.

Keep in mind the closest contact I had with Senor Cordoza was watching him teach as I sat in the back of our classroom.  Imagine my surprise when he approach me and I quickly realized his breath smelled like tooth carnage...covered in cigarette smoke....washed with 4 day old bottom of the pot coffee.  Bad.

He stood over my shoulder as he assisted me.  Talking...breathing...warm nastiness wafting over my right shoulder....The nerve.  "Binaca." was all I could think of as he rambled through his long winded answer...All the while I tried to breathe through my mouth...but even that was disgusting because I felt as though I was ingesting his disgusting pulmonary exhaust.

That was the one and only time I asked for help from Senor Cordoza.  I opted instead to remain clueless and winged Spanish on my own.  I got my first "C"....devastating for the overachiever I was at the time...But my gag reflex was always in check.  So there's that...

See ya'....

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