School days

So, I’m taking two classes: Spanish and web design. Both were inspired by my partner’s asking whether I’d like to look at the continuing education catalog before she recycled it. “Nah,” I said (contemplating my stack of unread magazines). Then, feeling like it was something I really should want to look at, I said, “Yeah, I’ll take a look.” Once inside the catalog, I was hooked, and I started signing up.

Learning Spanish is an old wish. Living in Colorado, where the Spanish-speaking population is really large (large enough to have sparked an “English-only” law several years ago), it always seemed like it would be good to know Spanish. Then, over the years, I've become increasingly aware of our (i.e., the English-speaking world’s) arrogance in assuming that everyone else should know our language, but we aren't required to know theirs. Plus, I’m sort of a language buff. I fell in love with Latin in junior high, and I took more of it in high school, along with Russian. I was an exchange student in Germany in my senior year, and learned German the best way—by full and total immersion. In college, I took more German and Russian; I even revisited Russian during the year we lived in San Francisco, auditing a class at SFU.

But even with all that incentive, I've never learned Spanish. The final push (before the continuing ed catalog, that is) came from one of my volunteer gigs. A woman I work with through Boulder County’s Aging Services speaks Spanish as her first language. She also speaks excellent English … which means we spend all our time talking in my native language, and none in hers. At the senior center, where we spend most of our time, we encounter several other Spanish-speaking folks, many of whom my friend knows. I overhear their conversations, but I can’t participate; I can't even understand, except for an occasional word. So, I thought, here’s my chance. I can learn some Spanish in class and then have an opportunity to practice it for real. Perfect.

The only problem has been time (what a surprise!). I’d forgotten, sort of, how much concentrated effort goes into learning even the basics of a language—little things like vocabulary and basic grammar. I had been letting it slide, and then suddenly found myself mortified at the thought that I’d go to class and look ill prepared—which I was. So, I spent a lot of time over the weekend and on Monday (before the Monday evening class) studying. Which turned out (I remember now!) to be great fun. I loved the process of studying, loved feeling more knowledgeable, and went to class not dreading humiliation. Of course, Monday night’s class brought more new words, more new grammar, more studying ahead … I really do love being a student.

Then, the web design class. I signed up for this one mostly because it sounded like so much fun. I fiddle some with things computer-ish, and the slow mastery of new skills always gives me great pleasure. But I didn't actually have a website in mind that I wanted to design. It was really the process more than the goal that enticed me.

As it turned out, too few people signed up, so the class was cancelled. I was crestfallen. It actually spoiled my day. So, determined to do it somehow, I tracked down the teacher (whose name I had come across elsewhere, making it pretty easy to find her) and asked if she’d be willing to do a private tutorial for the same fee I’d have paid for the class. She agreed (yea!), and we set up a time. Then, she asked me to bring along some ideas and text (and even graphics) for the site I’d like to create. Now I was on the spot.

So I consulted with my partner, who has talked for a long time about needing a website, and she agreed to let me create one for her. She might decide to get a fancier one down the line, but this will be a start, I said … and if she hates it, I won’t put it on the Web. And she can always change it. So, she said OK, I worked up some text (with her help and feedback, of course. I’m not totally off in my own world here), and I met with my “tutor.” She proved to be a good teacher, and within a couple of hours, I had the basics to design a website. Maybe the best part was that I then got to spend hours and hours tinkering with it, re-writing, moving text, changing font, adding and deleting graphics, playing with color schemes, adding links … generally having a blast (see “lack of time to study Spanish,” above).

So now I have a load of homework and a beginning hint of a grasp of a minuscule corner of Spanish. A simple but content-rich website that promises to keep morphing and growing. And the great, grand pleasure of a return to studenthood.

I feel like a kid with a chocolate ice cream cone melting down my arm on a hot summer’s day. So much to enjoy, so little time.