Today I start my German class.
It’s funny because last night I talked to one of my oldest friends from High school. I haven’t spoken to her since high school, but we’ve been exchanging emails for a couple of months. Our 15-year high school reunion was in September and the girl (now woman) who arranged the whole thing sent out a contact list.
Now I have to say, high school was not my best period. For some reason I decided I would look great with bangs and a really bad perm. When the perm fell out, I decided crimping was the way to go. Crimping? What was I thinking?
I’m sure it was because I couldn’t see right. My saucer sized red acrylic glasses might have had something to do with it. It might have been the gleam of my braces competing with the copious amount of rhinestones on my denim jacket or my sweaters or my t-shirts. I was big into rhinestones. This does not bode well for my wardrobe as an old woman. I’m sure I’ll be one of those festive sweater wearing old ladies, a good-taste-forgotten-with-time kind of old lady
Anyway, Darline was a fabulous friend through the whole thing. UNTIL SHE MOVED!
She and I gabbed forever last night and it was like we just picked up where we left off, talking about classmates and who was a total whore and who was dating whom. Except now, it’s who married who and how many kids do they have and was rehab involved and she had a baby gurgling in the background.
The reason this is appropriate is that I have the same amount of anxiety for this class that I had for all of high school. College was fabulous and I never had such anxiety. It might be because other than a random math class I NEVER passed in college, I loved my college classes. I never felt the pressure of having to pass a class or the big hatchet in the sky would fall and split me apart as I stood screaming beneath it, watching and waiting for my demise. I definitely felt like that in high school.
I took German in high school before I switched to Spanish because I just couldn’t get it. I’ve tried to learn German on my own as an adult. I know all my body parts, fruit and numbers. I have no idea what three-year-old children say to me, but how many times a day do I talk to a three year old.
I really want to learn German. I really want to be able to communicate with more than hand gestures. I really want to go home at Christmas and have a complete conversation with Markus in German in front of the Wonder twins so they have no idea what I’m saying. I really want to speak better than my stepfather who also took German in high school and retained everything.
So on that note, I’m off to my class. And I’m taking my lucky feather.