Me hablo Spanglish

Hola mi hermano, como esta?

You realize you sound like a rapper? Hello my brother, wuz up?

So I am taking night classes to try to finally get my degree. After twenty years out of school I knew it would be hard but I never thought the class that would sink me would be Spanish.

I have wanted to learn spanish since I was six years old and had a small part in Los Tres Osos. I got to be the voice of Goldielocks when she was discovered breaking and entering by the three bears. I still remember my line. “Aye yae yae yae yae”. Said it perfectly.

As I was growing up we lived in a lot of heavily hispanic areas and my urge to learn the language everyone was making fun of me in only increased. There was a brief period where my yearning ebbed when my darling cousin Lisa that it would be oh so hilarious to tell me that “puta” meant Hi, how are you in Spanish. Didn’t take but one ass-kicking to realize that Lisa? Not so friggin funny.

Anyway, so here I am in Spanish 201 and totally lost. It’s not the speaking of it, although I do suck at that. It is all these conjugations. Esta, este, estamos. What the hell? Luckily I sit next to an incredibly bright young girl named Scout (her dad is a lit professor) who would be happy to help me if we’d just quit screwing around long enough to pay attention.

Scout has this unique way with accents. She can nail anyone, anytime. My favorite has got to be the Southern Baptist Belle. Dripping with sugar she will look me directly in the eye (after another of my oh so witty comments- ex. “Does the chick in this picture look high to you?”), then, with a completely straight face and a dead-on drawl, she will shake her head and say, “You make Jesus sa-yed”. Kills me every time. La profesora? Not so much. I guess she thinks that at forty-one I should be past the gigglegirl stage. Mi mal.

~ by D.L. Graves on February 20, 2009.

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