My daughter and I began a Spanish class last night, and, as our textbook states: Spanish Is Fun! I loved the diversity of the group, every age, ethnicity and nationality, and the fact that there were other old folks like myself. It's never too late to learn something, and, as I was telling a man as we waited in line to buy our textbooks, I got a D in Spanish in 1963, and it's haunted me ever since. I ended up taking the French exam, being placed in French 4, and taking Hindi/Urdu, but I never tackled Spanish again. I love the language, and now I expect to be able to speak some basic phrases and maybe more. My fellow student said he'd done badly in Algebra, but he wasn't going to tackle it again. I agreed. Algebra is not something to mess with at our advanced ages.
I love taking a class with my daughter, and seeing her poise and beauty reflected in other faces. She is handling so much: a new teaching job, grad school and now this class. She's determined to do her job well. I feel proud of her.
Next, after I've mastered Spanish, maybe I'll try Italian, or brush up on my dormant French, or even Hindi. Somehow it doesn't seem so daunting, when it's not for a grade or a requirement, but just for fun.
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