Back To Kindergarten

Ok, so I'm not really in kindergarten, at least not yet. It's more like preschool.
Wait what? A sixteen year old in preschool? That must be something else. Not. I'm referring to my feelings for my new Spanish class.
   That's right, I got one more year of high school left and still have to finish two years of foreign language. Only way to do that is through college level Spanish classes. Each semester counts for a year of high school classes. What a miracle! Well that's what I thought too until I started.
   On the first day things started out pretty good. The teacher went over the syllabus and explained things clearly and simply... in English. Then the first words of foreign language flowed out of her mouth. It sounded like a crystal clear waterfall streaming out from the majestic mountain that was her tongue. Then she gestured for us to repeat. The only thing that spilled out of my mouth was a flow of oil ridden mud with a couple dead fish floating inside... and maybe a very cleverly covered up murder victim. "¡Muy bien!" she said with a big smile. Liar. It was to be expected though.
   For our second class it was time to be partnered up with another student to practice together. Out of all the stumbling, bumbling peers, my teacher paired me up with one of the few native speakers in the class. It became a game of stay at home mom and telemarketer. No matter how many times he tried to help me understand what I was doing wrong, my mouth would seem to ignore him and continue to babble nonsense. It reminded me of my days as a toddler in Sunday school, only this time I didn't get any fishy crackers or candies. From that first experience it became a mutual agreement that this relationship wasn't working out. Next class we sat in different seats away from each other.... and the next class... and the class after that. in the end we just gave up. No matter where we were, by random chance, we kept being picked to do activities together. Finally our wills broke and we began to get along... and when I say that I mean I got the dead victim out of my mouth and began to talk around the fish. I had become understandable. Well, to a degree. But this is no time to spoil the moment.
   By the end of the two and a half months I have left, I hope to get enough vocabulary and cleaning of the river to finally be able to get the heck out of high school. Only an entire semester left. Laters.