ABC...it's easy as 123

I woke up at the butt crack of dawn. I wore a strapless bra and the most uncomfortable shoes I owned. I covered myself in a tent masquerading as an article of distinction. I put a board on my head and ropes around my neck (fitting). I sat for hours in the sun, unable to hear or see what was going on (not that it mattered, since I don’t think any of it actually had to do with me in particular). Then, on my blistered feet, I ran to another crowded area and fought a crazy lady for chairs. In the meantime, I lost my shoes and ended up having to continue through the day barefoot. But let me tell you, that was the least of my worries. Hot pavement did not hold a candle to the suffering I endured while listening to the editor of the Los Angeles Times speak to me about things that (a) I didn’t care about, and (b) did not relate to my life in any way, shape or form. But I overcame all of that day’s obstacles, because I was convinced that it was a torturous finale, signaling the end of my educational journey. Apparently I was wrong.

Only months after that joyous celebration we call graduation, I find myself face to face with the enemy once more. Don’t get me wrong, I love education. But classroom learning has a time and place, and this is neither. (If they offered nap time and recess, and if I could trade my turkey sandwich for PB&J at lunch time, then I might reconsider.) Before I explain, you have to understand that I learned just enough Spanish to get good grades. Retention did not play a factor in my learning process when it came to foreign languages. Like most people, I found the fastest route between two points and took it. I can’t say I never used Babel Fish for “help” with an assignment. And I can’t say that I didn’t use my mad cut and paste skills and some musical accompaniment to draw my professor’s attention away from the fact that my oral presentation actually sucked. I did what I had to do to survive. And now karma is back to haunt me.

Yes, friend, I have to go back to the University of Amsterdam to pursue none other than fluency in Dutch. I am not talking a night class with a bunch of deadbeats here. I am talking full-time student—they expect my fluency to be a 4.5 on a scale of 1-5 by the end of these two semesters. Clearly they missed the memo—I am far past my “brain is a sponge” phase. I think that ended when I was like four years old. And don’t even think about pulling that, “But you’re smart—you’ll be able to do it.” (I can hear my family now…) Smart has nothing to do with learning a language…though the Dutch seem to think it does. They made me take an IQ test to qualify for university level coursework. Hilarious, really. Anyhow, I am not too thrilled.

OH! I forgot the best part! Weren’t any of you wondering what a university is doing offering beginners language courses? Don’t you find it odd? What if Berkeley offered beginners English? Doesn’t really sound college-level, does it? You’re right. That’s where the catch comes in. They offer these courses for foreigners who wish to obtain a degree from the university, but cannot speak Dutch well enough to handle all of the coursework. Thus, according to their rules, I can only take courses at the university if I agree to continue my studies afterwards, obtaining an advanced degree through taking courses in DUTCH. Yes, I would have to obtain my masters through taking courses taught in a language I learned only months before. I guess now is a good chance to pursue medical school…