“All I want to do is sleep.”
Basically my motto, catchphrase, way of life, during Spanish class. I don’t think any class, not even math, has caused me to wish I was at home more than Spanish.
I remember leaving engineering, and walking into the dreaded center (since my school technically didn’t have classrooms). I wouldn’t even sit with the rest of my class. For some reason I still don’t know, I would isolate myself in the farthest corner of the center with only my annoying prone-to-crash-at-any-given-moment laptop for company.
I would unconsciously frown while scrolling through the assignments online, seeing what textbook pages I had to do and what awkward conversation I would have to have in Spanish with another student.
Nothing gave me more misery than forcing myself to push through what seemed like a mountain of homework in a language I didn’t even want to understand. Half the time, I was ignoring what I had to do and telling Google, “I’m hungryyyyy” or “I wanna take a naaaaaaap”, both of which were unfortunately true.
I would do literally anything but the assignments. Write a story. Work on a comic. Eat my obligatory Cheez-its. Download Illustrator. Spend the whole period drawing out my OCs on Illustrator. Read the Dork Diaries blog pages. Take a nap. Message my friends on hangouts. Choke down more Cheez-its.
Ask Google more questions about my despair. Anything.
I was even happy when my computer broke down so I had an excuse not to work on Spanish.
I take back what I said. Seeing others walk out of the center and walk back in with bags of Popeyes or Raising Canes or even just those microwavable ramen bowls, made me wish I could cry. That, or somehow befriend them to get in on the food. It was daily torture having the smell of fried chicken or warm popcorn waft to my table. I could practically see the smugness of the owners, while I forced myself to conjugate in three different tenses. How was I supposed to concentrate when food, and the 11:30 lunchtime was all I could think about?
Each day, I would say, “Only a few more months to go. Only a few more months until you never have to even think about Spanish ever again.” And when that glorious day came, I walked out of the center and never looked back.
Here’s to hoping I don’t become one of those book characters who get kidnapped and somehow end up south of the border in Mexico and end up wishing they’d paid more attention in Spanish class. I’ve seen that too often to feel safe anymore.