Spanish and cleaning a bookcase

So this week marks the “half-way” point in the four weeks of Spanish 2020 that I’m currently enrolled in. What is strange about this course is that it is four weeks, instead of the customary five weeks allotted for most summer classes. This means that instead of going fast, this class is going a break neck speed. A quiz every wednesday and tests on Thursdays. We still have at least three chapters to cover and we have two weeks left. Oh well, it will happen regardless. 

Spanish and I have something of a fair-weather friendship. I like it when it cooperates with my brain, but when it doesn’t gel in my brain, I hate it. I remember last fall when I was taking Spanish 2010 (after a over a year of no instruction in the language) I had an all out panic attack because I didn’t understand how to conjugate or how to appropriately form sentences. Not helping matters was the professor I had, who was (to put it frankly) a complete asshole. I kept failing everything and my stress levels reached historic highs. 

This spring was a different story. A different class dynamic. A different professor, and a slower speed. I understood the material and made a respectable grade. 

This summer I’m enrolled in Spanish 2020 and I cannot wait to be free of my foreign language requirement. Although I enjoy the language, I much prefer my own English language. My professor (who is a delightful lady) was talking in class yesterday how she is doing a literature class in Spanish classics, it’s a 4000 level class. I foolishly asked “en espanol?” to which she replied “si.” I wouldn’t mind reading Don Quixote but a complete class in Espanol exclusively?! No, Gracias. 

Besides studying my spanish and applying for jobs, I’ve also taken some time out to clean out my bookcase and my desk. I usually don’t touch desk or my bookcase because I always find old books, papers and files that I want to keep. 

Going back through the old books and files, memories flood back in waves. Music appreciation, theatre appreciation and countless Norton Anthologies with my handwritten notes in the margins. I always keep the books I love and I’ve discovered a problem, I don’t have enough space. I need at least two more bookshelves, why stop at just two though? I need a room devoted to my books, my own veritable library, isn’t that every English majors’ dream – their own proper library?!  


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