I had the opposite problem: we left Venezuela for the UK when I was 5, and came back when I was 8. I hadn't forgotten my Spanish; but I couldn't pronounce the erre. I couldn't say "carro", and Venezuelan kids had a field day with me. I had 2 or 3 different speech therapists, until I found a lady that figured it out in two sessions.
So then I spoke fluent English and Spanish without an accent... Until I moved to France (gracias, Chávez) and had to learn this friggin unpronounceable language.
My mom taught second grade in the Riverside section of Paterson for many years and when she passed, a few of her students posted online and it was a joy for her family to see her remembered. It’s a joy whenever a student remembers a teacher. What a lovely tribute to Ms. S.
... and yet, anger can be as much of a teacher as other emotions. I learnt my first German prodded by the urge to retaliate. But the whole context was so different from what you are telling here. Instead of "mad", it's maybe the downright refusal. Anger might push us to opt in, instead of pulling out.
Very beautiful and touching, indeed. The throes of language being born...
Beautiful text!
I had the opposite problem: we left Venezuela for the UK when I was 5, and came back when I was 8. I hadn't forgotten my Spanish; but I couldn't pronounce the erre. I couldn't say "carro", and Venezuelan kids had a field day with me. I had 2 or 3 different speech therapists, until I found a lady that figured it out in two sessions.
So then I spoke fluent English and Spanish without an accent... Until I moved to France (gracias, Chávez) and had to learn this friggin unpronounceable language.
Add something about Sisyphus...
something tells me youre killing it in french
Another heartfelt, authentic story ripped from the pages of your life.
This is why people who read your work love you💕
Just a lovely lovely look back. Glad that I subscribed. Your passion for teaching is inspiring.
My mom taught second grade in the Riverside section of Paterson for many years and when she passed, a few of her students posted online and it was a joy for her family to see her remembered. It’s a joy whenever a student remembers a teacher. What a lovely tribute to Ms. S.
now THAT'S beautiful.
Beautiful. To all the Ms S's in our lives. Mine was Mrs. W in fifth grade, who guided me to borrow Lord of the Flies from the school library.
I have a seven year-old and this grabs me and makes me consider how he experiences the world.
Thank you.
... and yet, anger can be as much of a teacher as other emotions. I learnt my first German prodded by the urge to retaliate. But the whole context was so different from what you are telling here. Instead of "mad", it's maybe the downright refusal. Anger might push us to opt in, instead of pulling out.
Very beautiful and touching, indeed. The throes of language being born...
I’m sticking with mad: I’ll never be on speaking terms with German.
Poignant and beautiful. Thank you for your touching, heart-warming reminiscence.