It’s not that it retards me. Hah, I wish that was it. No, it’s really comes down to my indolence. I have never taken the time to hone my technique. Well, let’s be honest, I’ve never practiced period. When a test rolls around, I simply memorize the necessary information. That’s practical; that gets you an “A”—or so I thought.
Estoy aqui: at the point where the bare minimum isn’t good enough anymore. My professor actually expects me to be able to write a 400-word essay. She must be joking. She has to be.
Every palabra incites more doubt. Is my syntax correct? Does this make sense semantically? Comma or no comma?
A page, measly page, is causing this much trouble.
Spanish, I hate you. I hate your pronunciation barriers. I hate your separate grammar. Most of all, I hate that I want to be able to speak you fluently, becoming un hispanohablante.
Maybe, I’ll take the time to learn the language well down the road. Until then, Spanish 277, I’m fully aware that this class is pass-fail.