There used to be a game show in the United States called, “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader.” I don’t think it’s still on, but I don’t really know. I never watched it. Because, frankly, I didn’t want to know.
It had been more than 50 years since I had learned the state capitals, and the one thing I did know was that I didn’t remember most of them. Nor did I understand the “new math” or know the names of any of the Harry Potter characters besides Harry. And if the 5th grade spelling list contained the words apparent, embarrass, misspell, or accommodate, they were going to get me there too.
It’s only recently that I’ve started thinking that I probably should have taken that 5th grade challenge. I could have brushed up on my geography, practiced my long division, pocketed a spell check in my capri pants and, who knows, I might have done okay.
Almost certainly better than I’m doing now when I find myself competing with my three-year-old grandson to learn Spanish.
He arrived in Guadalajara two months ago, along with his one-year-old brother and his parents, who happen to be my daughter and son-in-law. After 30 years of practicing law and seven years of running a used bookstore, I closed up shop and tagged along, hoping for siestas.
Neither I nor my grandson spoke Spanish when we arrived. We quickly learned the necessities – I learned the word for bathroom, he learned the word for chocolate – and then we headed off to our respective Spanish classes. He goes to a Spanish/English pre-school five mornings a week and I go to a Spanish class one day a week for one hour. Which means he’s getting well over five times the instruction in Spanish that I’m getting. Which means I’ve started learning most of my Spanish from him.
Which wouldn’t be so bad except for the fact that I think I’m learning the Spanish of three-year-olds.
Last week the homework for my one hour class involved listing three Spanish words for each of 10 different letters of the alphabet. When we went around the class listing our words, I made a depressing discovery. I noticed that, with the exception of a few words like “vino” and “fiesta” which I knew before coming here, all of my words were either numbers, colors, animals, popsicle flavors or playground related.
Which doesn’t do me a bit of good when I try to order a Pumpkin Spiced Latte at Starbucks.
But which might explain my sudden aversion to vegetables.
Jeanne is a transplanted Illinoisian who arrived in Guadalajara hoping for siestas. She was sad to discover that siestas are a thing of the past, but is still finding lots to like about Mexico.