A Long Journey

I like to think that my relationship with the Spanish language began at the age of two, when I first appear in my family's home videos, dancing to my favorite song at the time, "La Bamba."

I began formally studying Spanish at the age of nine, and could tell that I had a knack for imitating my teacher's accent and understanding what she was saying. This same year, on a day off from school, I accompanied my mom to her volunteer job, which was assisting in an English as a Second Language course for new immigrant adults. I vividly remember teaching an Asian man how to say the word "sock," and I couldn't get over the fact that I was actually able to teach someone something, much less an adult. At the end of the class, I told my mom that that had been "the best day of my life."

Fast foward to 8th grade, where I'm now about five years into studying Spanish. My dad and I went on spring break to Puerto Rico. On the main island, there wasn't much need for my Spanish, but when we went to Vieques, a smaller island, no one spoke much English. I was terrified to say anything in Spanish, and my dad still makes fun of me to this day for how unhelpful I was throughout the trip. I remember saying two things in Spanish: "¿Dónde está la playa?" (Where is the beach--funny since we were on a small island, but my dad and I don't exactly have a sense of direction) and I remember saying the word "barato" to ask if something was cheap. Puerto Rico was crazy: the lack of road signs from a hurricane years before, driving on roads that turned into non-roads through bushes, having to wait for cattle to cross the road, etc. But there was something very intriguing about this place and different pace of life.

Spanish classes continued, and in my sophomore year of high school, I had JJ Kahle as my Spanish teacher. She would then continue to be my Spanish teacher for the remainder of high school. She spoke Spanish amazingly and was so interested in the cultural aspects of studying the language that it rubbed off on all of her students. During my junior year, she started talking about taking a group of students to Cuernavaca, Mexico to study Spanish and live with a host family over the summer. I was interested, but I didn't know anyone that was going and was fairly anxious about having to speak Spanish on a normal basis and stay with a Mexican family. My mom has never once pushed me to do anything that I don't want to do, but she pushed me to go to Mexico. I think she may have been channeling some inner nostalgia from her time in Denmark in high school, but I certainly credit her with convincing me to go. And thank God she did. In Mexico, I stayed with an amazing family and my Spanish took off. I got so much satisfaction out of communicating in another language, and I fell in love with Mexico and began planning trips and semesters abroad throughout Latin America.

I entered CC knowing that I would major in Spanish, and thinking that I would teach bilingual elementary school when I graduated. I spent a few weeks in the summer following my freshman year in Nicaragua, volunteering with an NGO called Manna Project International. This trip was a bit traumatizing for me. Not only did I have a nasty reaction to my anti-malaria medications and get a parasite, but I was also witnessing the most extreme poverty that I have since laid eyes on. One of the communities that we worked in is called La Chureca, and it is literally a town built on a garbage dump. The familes survive by digging through the trash to find recyclable items that they can exchange for a small amount of change. Their houses are made from garbage, they bathe in a lake of garbage, and they suffer from all kinds of ailments.

My junior year of college I studied abroad in Barcelona. Barcelona and I didn't click that way that I have with places in Latin America, but I enjoyed the opportunity to conduct my life in Spanish and hold a marketing internship. I made some lifelong friends, and the highlight of Spain for me was actually my fall break, when I was able to travel through Morocco during Ramadan.

I returned from Spain and looked for a volunteer opportunity where I could practice my Spanish. I began tutoring a wonderful group of bilingual Mexican children in an after school program, and it became the highlight of my week.

In my senior year, the Spanish department let me write my thesis on a topic that had long interested me: bilingual education for Hispanics in the US. I had a lot of issues with the Spanish department and the fact that my major was analyzing literature, but it allowed me to become literate in Spanish, and for that I am grateful. While for much of college I had drifted from my interest in education, it came back quite strongly once I delved into my topic, and I became a little obsessed with my research. While I'm still not quite sure where I will fit into the field of education, I think it will be somewere in the realm of Hispanic education in the US.

I couldn't really make any concrete decisions about my future post-college until I made it to South America, a place I have wanted to go to at least since Mexico, but more likely since the first time I opened a Spanish textbook and saw a photograph of Machu Picchu. I made it, and I love it more than I had expected. These last six weeks have been amazing. It has tested my patience, made me depressed, and filled me with hope. The highlight, of course, has been the children that I have been fortunate enough to get to know. While I look forward to my return to the US and things like driving my car, wandering the aisles of Target, and using a public restroom that supplies its own toilet paper, soap, paper towels, AND a toilet seat, I think I will pretty much be tearing myself away from the kids on Friday. On my first few days in the school, I remember thinking that I had a long month ahead of me. And then at the beginning of week three, I began planning my return.

For some reason I have the ability to speak Spanish better than most non-native speakers, and for some reason I am more drawn to interacting with Hispanic children than any other group of people. I have felt truly at home in Mexico and in Peru. I thought that maybe finally making it to South America would feel like something that I could check off my list, but now I am only more curious about what the rest of this continent has in store.

Towards the beginning of my trip, my host mom, Martha, had a group of her friends over, and she was explaining the work that I was doing in Peru to them. They didn't quite get it at first, and kept asking if I was getting university credit. When they eventually understood that I was just here to volunteer, one of them said, "She's come to do the work that we won't." That line has stuck with me, because in some ways, it's silly that I have traveled so far from home to work on another country's issues, when the US certainly has its fair share of problems, and many with regards to immigration from Latin America. I think I will have to strike a balance between working on issues abroad and at home. What I know for sure is that if it doesn't involve Spanish, then it just isn't for me.