One of the main reasons I chose Germany to travel and live in was because I have a background in the language. I studied (online, as there was no German teacher anywhere near Oakesdale) for two years in high school, recording children's songs and emailing them to my teacher in Chicago. I minored in German Language and Culture in college, a nail biting three years where the only reason I did my homework was to assure I wouldn't be yelled at in German. After finishing the minor, I spoke little, wrote decently, and could understand 90% of what was spoken and written.
Now, three years after finishing the minor, three years that included my time consuming senior thesis, graduation, the looming demon that is adulthood, a job with a cubicle, and other memory wiping experiences; I speak even less German, write like a five year old, and understand about 70% of the spoken word, however more so of written.
And so in coming to Germany, I was hoping to not only polish my language skills, but entirely rebuild them.
Laura and I looked at two different German classes for me to enroll. One, in the near by city of Recklinghausen, was on Monday nights, in a cool building named after Marie Curie (and I actually visited the building on her birthday, which was neat). Recklinghausen has more things to do than Marl, looks cooler, and is a 20 minute bus ride away.
The other class was in Marl, in the shopping mall, and was Monday and Wednesday nights. Knowing that I would rather have the class in the cooler city, I opted for the twice a week class, it was more practical, and I was feeling more and more disabled from my lack of language ability.
Laura called and found out the time and room number for the class, and on Monday I saddled up the bike and headed off.
Those who know me well know I don't ride bikes. In fact, haven't for many years. The mall could be reached by bus (that included figuring out bus schedules, and paying money), by foot (a forty minute walk), or by bike. Eager to fit in, save time and money, and build a little muscle in the process, I lowered the seat on Laura's bike (insert short person joke here), and wobbled away. I took a practice run around the block, realized that bike seats hurt like hell, and that it wasn't so hard to keep balance. Unless I took my hand off the handlebar to adjust my scarf, and then I would veer out of the bike lane, off the curb, and into traffic.
I rode the fifteen minutes to the mall. Stopping at intersections and waiting for the light to change, nice stops as it saved my butt from screaming the entire way. I cruised along, realizing how out of shape I was, and that even though it was winter, riding a bike makes one sweat. I arrived early, as I had planned, locked up the bike, and headed into the mall.
To get to the class one must use Harry Potter skills and wander near empty corridors. After entering the mall and taking the escalator to the second level, I found the door next to the information desk, and wandered through a mismatched book store, past a small games store, bathrooms, and a library to a door marked for the language school. Laura had given me the number of the classroom, and I patiently waited outside the door, slurping down water to quench my thirst from my tiresome bike ride.
The class was to start at 4:30pm, and I was early. I wandered the halls a bit, and when I came back the door to the classroom was ajar and people were sitting at the long tables. I walked in, introduced myself, said I was there for the German class. Everyone stared at me in silence. The class was made up of mostly middle aged folk, immigrants learning the language of their new home. One woman told me in German more broken than mine that the teacher would be back. On the chalk board there were German words for, "house, car, mother tongue" and I wondered if I would be moved up a class.
The teacher came in, and I introduced myself, and that I was hoping to join the class if there was an opening. She told me she had not heard of me coming, that my German was too good, and I could not stay. I explained again that I had called, and been told about this class, in this room. She said I was wrong, that I was very tardy for the class (that had started an hour and a half earlier) and that I knew to much German for her to teach me. Politely, she showed me the door and told me to contact the office. I walked out, in near tears from frustration, my nails chewed down to the cuticle, and still sweaty.
I stood in the hall to catch my bearings, as others passed by for different classes. Then I heard it, the sweet, homesick sound of two Americans speaking English. Quickly I moved towards the voices, and came upon a man about my age, and a middle aged woman. They were talking about people they might both know in Florida. The woman was leaving a German class, and the man was entering one. They saw me standing near by, looking lost and probably creepy as I joyfully listened to their perfect English. They asked if I spoke, and I introduced myself as an American au pair, looking for a German class, 2B. Keaton, the guy, told me I was in the right place, he was in 2B, was also an au pair, and was glad to meet another American.
Faith restored I entered the classroom and spoke to the teacher. She was an older woman with white hair and glasses, spoke very clear, but not slow German, and was happy to have me. I told her I spoke little, but understood a lot, and she told me to stay for the class. I sat by Keaton, and he introduced another au pair, a girl from The Netherlands who spoke fluent English. The rest of the class was made up of people around my age, girls from Brazil and Uruguay, and an older man, who switched between three pairs of glasses while reading from the Czech Republic. Keaton assured me the class was laid back and easy to understand, and he was half correct. I was able to understand the teacher's German well, but the others with their heavy accents from their home countries was more difficult. Even so, I was impressed these young people had traveled so far, and were working so diligently to become citizens fluent in the national language. Everyone was friendly, and the class was light hearted.
The class met again on Wednesday, and started some grammar exercises. I was overjoyed when my grammar instincts came roaring back, all those years of memorizing article tables and hammering Der Die and Das into my brain had actually helped. I still spoke little German, but found myself to be understanding the grammar more than others in the class.
The class is taught in full German, as the teacher can't switch between Portuguese, Spanish, and English to help us all learn. I have found I like this teaching style better, as I am forced to be immersed in the language.
Another wobbly bike ride home, yet this time I was relieved. Relieved that I handled myself through getting kicked out of one class, found another, made friends, and feel that I will learn this language. Relieved that I didn't have to ride this uncomfortable bike for another two days.
However, I had homework. A lot of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment