From the Ashes ...

In case y’all didn’t know. I’m dyslexic.

That means that letters, words and lines on a page all jump and get mixed up on the way into or out of my brain. This results in a disconnect between what I say, read, write and think.

The English Years

With the help of an amazing school (that identified my dyslexia early), a great, tireless tutor, and patience and support from my family, I have learned to read and write English passably. I’ve learned what they call “coping mechanisms” to be able to deal with the complexities of language despite my learning disabled brain.

Just around the time I learned to accept that by trying harder than everybody else I could be almost as good, I was introduced to a new concept: foreign language.

The Japanese Years

From grades six through eight my school taught one foreign language: Japanese. The zenith of my knowledge was being able to read and write two Japanese alphabets. At the end of my eighth grade year our studies culminated in a trip to Japan, where I was confronted with my ignorance of the language.

I was able to read signs aloud, but not be able to understand their meaning nor converse in any significant way. While it was embarrassing to have so little to show for three years of work, I didn’t feel like I was necessarily worse than my peers. That all changed in high school.

The Spanish Years: Part 1

Perhaps thankfully, my high school didn’t offer Japanese. So I begin again with Spanish. To put things in perspective this was my first experience with calling my teachers by their last name, getting letter grades and learning the parts of speech. (What’s a verb again?) Needless to say, I was in way over my head.

Every exam was baffling. Every class was humiliating. I stunk at Spanish.

I struggled through my required three years of foreign language in high school by treating most of the assignments and exams as logic problems. (Which tense should I be using? Which vocab words did we learn this week?) This allowed me to squeak by with passing grades, but increased my knowledge of the language not at all.

My senior year was blissfully free from any study of foreign language. I considered it a thing of the past, breathing a sigh of relief that I would not have to speak a foreign language ever again.

The Spanish Years: Part 2

I loved everything about my liberal arts education save one fact: a three semester language requirement. I decided to start over again with Spanish. Perhaps it would be easier the second time through? Perhaps I had retained a little from high school? After the placement test, it was suggested I begin at Spanish 101. I was not surprised.

So I slogged through three semesters of Spanish class. By the time I finished my third semester, I had no inclination to sign up for a fourth.

(Though there was an unlikely bright spot in these years. I got a job editing educational videos for a Spanish professor which started me on the path to apply to film school, and eventually start my career as an editor.)

So why am I bringing this up now?

Well, I’ve decided to learn Italian.

You think I’m an idiot right?

Here is my list of why this time I’ll succeed.

1. I’m starting a new language with no bad memories associated with it. Emotional baggage be gone!

2. I am learning at my own speed, which will be very much slower than the pace set by my teachers in the past.

3. I'll be learning a language want to learn, and about a culture that I find intriguing. (No offense Spanish, but I have never fallen for a single one of your countries as hard as I have for Italy.)

4. I will not have pressure of grades and requirements looming over me. This is entirely for fun.

5. I'll be learning language in a different way than before. Rosetta Stone Level 1 vs. an “immersion” classroom. (They always took pity and spoke in English … it was too pathetic to watch our confused faces.)

The only things I know how to say so far are ‘Roma’ and ‘Ciao’, neither of which I think I pronounce correctly. I can only go up from here.

I’m excited to try to conquer what I’ve failed at before. I don’t think it will be easy, but I think it will be worth my while. (If only to stop embarrassing myself at Italian restaurants.) Hopefully I’ll prove to myself that even my biggest failures, when faced in the right circumstances, with hard work and determination, can become successes. Wish me luck.