On Monday I left a bit late (13h07) to catch the metro six stops and then walk (jog, in my case) the remaining distance to school for my first lesson, at 13h30. I arrived at the building only a couple of minutes on the wrong side of late (not a big deal if I were Spanish). Although I didn’t want to be sweating for the first fifteen minutes of class, I even less wanted to show up late. All the more since I was joining a class already in progress…the new guy amongst a group who’ve been together already for quite a few weeks. (Quick summary: I am to catch the tail end of the “high intermediate” group, and next week — perhaps — the start of a new “advanced” group). So I didn’t wait for that tiny three-person elevator and instead sprinted up the stairs — sweat-speckled upper lip be damned!
The woman in the office had told me the week before, when I registered, which classroom would be mine (“Madrid”, for this week). I have to admit I was a bit frazzled when I got there — I had a mental map of which class was mine but didn’t actually check to be sure this was “Madrid”… No, it didn’t even cross my mind. [Yes, you know where this story is going...]
To make a long story slightly shorter, I found the class interesting, learned a few new things and felt rather pleased with my quite advanced level compared to the other “high intermediate” students! They had a hard time expressing themselves, pronouncing properly, a very limited vocabulary, and were groaning about concepts like the imperfect tense. Sure I may often miss the very obvious, but I really had no idea what to expect since I’d never been in a Spanish class before. It didn’t seem strange to me that there would be such a large “disconnect” from the other students; also I took a liking to them (they were from Belgium, South Africa, Germany and Switzerland). But I did get a bit suspicious when we started into the Intermediate book around page 25…not toward the end as I would have expected! Most of all, what kept me clued out was that when I introduced myself to the teacher, she didn’t seem surprised to see me. I told her my name, she nodded and made a note in her book, and during class she didn’t once question whether I was in the right place, or mention what level of class we were in (makes sense, since it was an ongoing class and they all knew what level they were in!).
As you’ve surely guessed I missed my first class. At the end of the class I attended, the teacher took me aside and asked very politely whether I’d perhaps like to be transferred into a higher-level course. It was at this point that I discovered this was a Low Intermediate class… ¡Qué tonto! Still, since I haven’t studied grammar so intensively, I did learn one or two things that day.
I quickly rushed over to the “real” Madrid classroom (no pun intended). There I caught up with the teacher of that class, got the homework for the day and a quick summary of what they’d covered.
So I had yet another day to wonder how I would measure up in this new context. Yes, I’m one of those annoying overachievers who always feels like a failure until they finally discover they’re actually doing extremely well at something. The teacher also informed me that, since I’m catching the tail end of (I think) four weeks of high-intermediate, there is a final test on Thursday (that’s tomorrow, now). The test will cover pretty much everything you’d need to know about Spanish grammar. In the advanced class you apparently don’t learn much new grammar (there’s not much more to learn); instead you do some review and mostly have discussions and give presentations to perfect your speech.
Anyhow, on Tuesday — after swearing I would make every effort to leave the house at 13h00 on the dot — I was almost late again and again sprinted up the stairs to the “first floor”, where the school is located. In fact, to reach the “first floor”, you have to work your way up from the ground level where the front door is, through three sets of stairs (up a half-flight to “entresuelo”, up a flight again to “principal”, up another to “primero”!).
In spite of my worries, I found I spoke a fair bit better than my other classmates — which came as a surprise because I often still find myself very frustrated trying to communicate. In some cases, these people have just worked their way right through from a beginner level in the past one or two intense months, so haven’t had two years — like me — to absorb and catch more of the flow of the language (even if rarely truly “correct”). I speak better than them but probably “officially” know fewer rules of grammar. The good news is that I am starting to get some intuition for what sounds right, without really knowing why. It’s probably better if you also know why, but that’s not the way I know English and French, either.
Yesterday we spent much of the class in “real discussions”, talking about complex topics like modern families, reproductive rights, birth control — and today about economics, statistics (I had to present a newspaper article, which led to a half-hour discussion about poverty in the world)… They’d spent the last part of last week learning the “indirect mode”, where you explain what someone is saying: “El Jardinero Zurdo said the class had spent the last part of the previous week learning the ‘indirect mode’”. It’s easier in English, believe me. But it’s not so bad in Spanish — I managed to learn it in a panic on Monday night, and I think I’ve mostly got it. The things I need to review are the more “basic” things that I may have missed, like subjuntivo (a huge topic, but I think I’ve mostly got it now). And specifically when to use each tense and mood. We’ll see how I do tomorrow… Depending on the results of the exam and the level of each student, we may be put into an advanced class, or may continue at the high intermediate level. Either way, I think I’ll learn something! (but of course my ego is still hoping for ADVANCED! ;-)