Learning the Language

Did I mention that I'm taking an introductory Russian language class?  Well, I am.

It's a four credit class at the community college ACROSS town twice a week.  The professor is bubbly and likes to be called by her first name.  She's easily excited about all things Russian, demands we speak in Russian only (did I mention this was an intro class) and has dubbed us all with Russian names. It's pretty fantastic.

In the past week or so the pace of the course was accelerated, while the novelty has worn off.  Thus, I find myself suddenly a few steps behind.

After working all weekend and feeling drained and uninspired I wanted desperately to skip class, maybe drop the course all together.  What did it matter?  I've already done the whole "get-a-degree" and "your-GPA-really-counts" deal-i-o, and found that in the end, your GPA really doesn't count, just the degree matters, which I already have.  So, I found myself in my own head interrogating the me that wanted to learn Russian in the first place.  The exhausted, burnt out, unhappy me encouraged the aspiring linguist to give it up, that it wasn't worth the time and effort.

And then I skipped class on Monday.

Don't worry.  I made up class again on Tuesday by going to the other section.  The reason I changed me mind?  The reason I decided to finish what I started?  Well, at first I wasn't sure.  Most likely it was that parental nag in the back of my mind that has never completely faded.  I could hear the same inundation of parental pressure: Shine's aren't quitters.  Parents can be pretty unoriginal, no?

But, as I rode the shuttle bus ACROSS town on the Tuesday morning I had a few moments to chat with another student.  This guy was working on his associates in science and had big dreams of nursing school.  When I told him that I was an nurse he nodded his head enthusiastically and said, "oh, so your in the nursing program."  I'm not sure how, "I'm a nurse," got confused with "I'm in nursing school," but I clarified that, no, I had already been there, done that, refuse to go back, and have been working as a nurse for several years now.

He seemed so impressed and I won't lie, it made me feel a little fabulous.  He had many questions about my career and I did my best to answer them.  Only after some time did a light bulb seem to flicker in understanding over his head when he asked, "so what are you doing at PCC?"

I told him I was, "just taking a Russian class."  He nodded again, piecing together the separate pieces I had given him.

As we got off the bus, heading in the same direction he asked me one last question, posed more like a statement than a real question, "you want to go to Russia as a nurse?"

I found myself smiling and nodding vigorously in agreement.  I think I said something like, "more than anything."  In retrospect, I think I told the poor bloke about my Ugandan adventure and how I wanted to work for Doctor's Without Boarders.  I was verbal diarrhea-ing all over him.

None of this information I claimed is particularly new information.  That is indeed the reason I took the class (that and I felt it would be good for me to know the language working in Portland, as it is the 3rd most popular language in the area).  The thing that struck me however, was my enthusiasm.  Hadn't I been ready to quit the day prior?  Hadn't I found the class to have served whatever novelty purpose it was meant to serve?

All of a sudden I was re inspired by the practicality of the language.  All at once I was eager and excited to learn a language that I would hopeful use as a means of getting overseas and working as a community health nurse.