I didn't have a personal connection to Spanish until I started going to elementary school in Atlanta, Georgia. Periodically, a student-teacher would come to our class to teach us Spanish, but I could only participate in the last few lessons since I had transferred in at the end of the semester. I don’t remember learning anything back then. When given the option to learn Spanish in middle school, I chose to take French (which deserves a post on its own).
In high school, when I was accepted into the IB program (which also deserves its own posts), we were given the option of dedicating the next four years to either Spanish or French. This time, I chose to revisit Spanish, and I would be all the better for it. I became so passionate about learning Spanish that I fell in love with the language. I loved the sound of Spanish and how it was put together. I was invested in each lesson, practiced at home, and even joined the Spanish Club.
My 9th-grade Spanish teacher was the club supervisor. She said that it didn’t matter that we were freshmen and knew only the basics, and she was right. We didn’t speak that much Spanish in Spanish club. Really, it felt more like a culture club rather than a language club. We did talk about lessons now and then. Mostly, we watched Spanish movies, ate quesadillas and Panama rice, and taught the local kindergarteners the alphabet in Spanish. For the cultural festival, our teacher taught us how to make sopapillas, which were delicious.
Unfortunately, I changed schools after that year, but my next Spanish teacher was still great, even if he didn’t feed us. My first memory of him is that he liked to spend a lot of time speaking only in Spanish. At first, I was worried we wouldn’t learn anything, but I was mistaken. Out of all of our Internal Assessments (one for each class), we were best prepared for Spanish.
He also talked to us about life in Cuba and how it was so different here. When he was a young man in Cuba, he and his friends would go on group dates. They rode their bikes everywhere, and people spoke to each other on the street. People didn’t do that as often here, and he missed that friendly and open atmosphere. Eventually, the time came to write our Extended Essays. He was the teacher I felt most comfortable talking to, so I chose him as my advisor. Ending my senior year by turning in a 2,500-word essay written completely in Spanish felt like a dream.
When I was accepted into university, it was a no-brainer that I would keep learning Spanish. Learning Spanish afforded me wonderful opportunities: scholarships, college credit, a passing score on the IB exam and my EE, and it took me all the way to Costa Rica where I studied abroad for 7 weeks. I was fortunate that I had wonderful teachers who encouraged me and were invested in helping me improve.
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