Excorsizing the Demons

Time to buckle down really. It still has been bit of a process for me as talking in Spanish right now is as much fun as a red hot poker in the eye. I am really drudging up some really bad habits and paying for the "Spanish Sins"of the past. The last couple of days has seen my mood osicilate from complete happiness to complete rejection; not from Spanish, but complete antipathy felt towards myself. Yesterday afternoon, after an absolutely exhausting afternoon of activities trying to perfect my speech- I speak like one of those machines in thriller movies where the protagonist is on the conveyor belt and in front of him/her is this huge blade chopping mangled pieces of whatever, sometimes the pieces come out looking spectacular but most of the time, they pass through just as mangled except in two parts. This the long winded example represents my speech in Spanish. I am not talking about trying to have a philisophical debate over who came first the chicken or the egg and how this relates to modern society. I am struggling with trying to form a good oral synopsis of a story I just read. I realize things will take time, and I am looking forward to the break through. As I sat on the bed, while Sam studied I took stock of my Spanish experience thus far and had a bit of a laugh. One can only move forward by coming grips with the past. Here is what I remember from my past 14 years of on and off studying:
6th grade: Three days a week. The only real memory is when Mr. Price, an over jubilant teacher, brought in clothes to demonstrate visually clothes in Spanish. However failing to recognize that he was dealing with boy students, recently fresh from the cafeteria, brought in a pair of pantyhose and let the party begin. One of my classmates, threw the panty hose on his head, similar to a robber who had just finished robbing a store, and shouted all over the class room: pantimedias! pantimedias To the consternation of the teacher, and the unrelenting joy for the juveniles in class, this was the maxium comedy anyone could ever do.
What I learned 6th grade: Robbers should rob a store screaming pantimedias and no one would not gladly hand over the money. Grade B-
7th Grade: More practice on vocabulary, ser and estar and yadda yadda. I am pretty sure Spanish ranked about 122938484 on my things to concentrate on right after girls. What I learned: how to avoid doing Spanish Homework: Grade B

8th Grade: The one thing that the boys talked about besides sports, Mrs. Theraught?? She was indescribable, just an absolute heaven sent woman for eager prepubscent- or since I had started to shave, pubscent boys. She wore loose clothing (baby on the way), had an ample bosom, and made everyone feel like they could speak Spanish like a natural . It is here that my attraction, in every sense of that word, started in Spanish. Spanish could hook me this teacher then I was in hands down. I have never been a part of anything so strange as to see a classroom completely speechless for 35 minutes- at least on the boys side. In the most stereotypical movie scene, I believe Mr. T had, at least, at least 5-7 boys coming voluntarilty in for extra help- myself included. I have never learned so much and had so much jealousy at the same time. Things learned in Spanish class: Anything Mrs. T said, ella es guapa, te quiero. Grade: who cares I was in Mrs. T's class
9th grade: So began the awkward years of high school and my Spanish mirrored this adjustment. Floating off dreams of Mrs. T, I believed that beautiful women would teach Spanish and it was only a matter of time that I had wet slicked back hair, a wispy moustache, a cigarette attached to my lip and tight clothing. However, Mrs. Cross dashed any dreams of this Rico Suave- the bowl cut didn't help either. Her teaching style rigid and boring, her attitude rigid and boring and her classroom rigid and boring. I struggled to reclaim my enchantment and, completely dashed and distraught, I had to get a tutor for Spanish. The tutor helped me immensely as did the new skinny craze that swooped into Boston at that time: Pedro Martinez. The Globe printed stories in Spanish whenever he pitched and once again I was hooked. Little by little my Spanish improved. In a weird way, I saw Spanish a mathmatical equation that could be mastered by discerning hints in tests- this practice would be a god send and my ultimate damnation in the end. What is even funnier is that I saw Math as a jumble of numbers that made no sense and never could pick out the clues for the solution. What I learned in class: tests can be studied like Math, Ser and Estar Grade: B
10th grade Spanish: I had sports to concentrate on. I applied my new skills at excelling at tests which kept me afloat. Unfortunately, I hit the stage where I needed to impress girls and make a name for myself. What better place that the less than structure class atmosphere that is Spanish teaching. Mrs. Rodriguez felt my and my friend's full assault at actively trying to disrupt her class. I am pretty sure she dreaded class with Adam and I. We went out of our way to make life miserable for her. When she read the attendence for the day, she paused at Adam's name, expressing a face of pure hatred and the same when my name was called. I got extremely sick for 3 weeks and missed class, I heard that Mrs. Rodriguez threw numerous fiestas in my absence. Also, I remember distinctly when my grade was in doubt at the end of the year and she pulled me aside and said "You did well on the test, but you barely scrapped to a B-" I don't think she realized that would make my summer. I whooped and struted out of class like a conquering hero. This embodied my Spanish, just average baby. Things I learned: Steps to make a young teacher develop a anxious twitch.
11th Grade- Mrs. Timberlake's class was more of the same except my shenangins were accepted and almost nurtured. She would allow me to talk and be an idiot, if it was in Spanish. She was almost too nice to a fault and I never really payed attention to Spanish only that we played fun, and I can't stress this enough, competitive games. One time during a game, I dove over her desk to slap an answer on the board to win the game for my team. Spanish had turn into some bizarre gym and acting class. Things I learned: How not to knock over the Teacher's cup while sprawling out for the synomim for casa. Grade B+
12th- until Junior of College: More of the same with more classes on literature and even less talking. As I matured???? I tried to take Spanish more seriously, but I never gave it a real shot. I still kept the secret formula of taking tests guarded in my brain so I could excel when needed. It wasn't until Chile when, out of the confines of the classroom, that I began to understand Spanish and enjoy it; up until then, I could get by and to some degree, until this very moment. I have adquired certain phrases, vocabulary and tenses, but never have I had the audicity to really speak and live. I have made numerous attempts at Spanish, proving to myself that I can speak it, but I have, deep down felt like a fraud. Now, I am addressing this premordial feeling head on and I am ready for the challenge. I have matured????? to realize the importance of Spanish in my life and I want to come to grips with it. Excorsize those demons, throw off those pantimedias from my head and actually prove to myself that I know Spanish.