On the night before the exam...

Tomorrow we have our first language exam, to see if we're ready to move on to the next level of Spanish. To me, the entire thing seems a bit forced: regardless of how you've progressed, you must take a test every two weeks. If you pass, you move on. If you fail, the plan is seemingly to repeat the exact same course through a review. The quality of education hasn't suggested to me that this will be a "re-teach in a new way" sort of situation, but a girl can hope. I will say this: teaching teachers must be the worst. We are demanding, critical, and always think we know more efficient and effective ways for students to take in information. The grammar classes at the language school are very traditional, even if the class sizes are small. We are explained a concept, told to try it in an exercise, go over the exercise, and then move on. Can you tell why I'm hesitant to imagine the re-teach will be effective? And why I think teachers are the worst to teach?

Because here I am, the night before the exam, completely unmotivated to study. I'm unconvinced I can absorb all of the information that I've been taught, and I'm genuinely unsure that I'm ready to move onto the next level either way. I don't believe all of the grammar tenses can be memorized in two weeks, even if they are understood, and I don't think cramming the night before will convey the real learning I am doing here.

What is the real learning then?
The moments of coming out of my shell, trying to explain to the cashier in the little market that I'm looking for a soda, and yes it comes in a green bottle, and yes it is made by Canada Dry, and no it is not Sprite (all because I do not know the word for ginger).
The moments of listening to the women in the nail salon switch between Spanish and Haitian Creole, welcoming customers, catching up on local gossip, complimenting each other's clothing, congratulating each other for big news, and observing as the entire salon watches the little girl (who could not have been more than 4) who came in silently to observe, touch a few things, look at women's nails, and sneak away with an unused plastic box for her two pesos.
The opportunity to show Clare, who has safely and happily arrived here, around the Zona Colonial, and show her where I like to eat lunch (although I've been on a purely white rice diet since Monday.... I could write a guidebook to the best white rice in SD), and which streets are the prettiest, and how you must not accept a first price in a tourist shop because they think you don't know how to bargain.
The sense of joy that I feel in a taxi, while the driver is blasting a song that I don't know or can't understand but he is singing along so fiercely that I too want to sing.
The sense of familiarity that is growing in me with the phrases I can use, the questions I can ask, the streets that I walk, and the space we call our home.

So I justify it to myself that I came here to not just to learn Spanish inside of a school, but also to take in a scene, take on the challenge of expressing myself in a new language in a new place, and take on new opportunities. All of this has led us as a team to take on a new opportunity that has been presented to us by a teacher at our school: a weekend trip to Bayahibe, to explore Taino caves and get some sun. A new adventure awaits us when we get back, I am sure, and all of the lessons will come with it.