Garrett M. Vonk

It makes me sad to realize that my proficiency in the Spanish language has atrophied to a truly alarming extent. In my heyday, I probably could have generated thoughts as complex as the preceding sentence, en español, with military accuracy and speed.

Nowadays, if the channel passes by Telemundo, I squint and strain and pick up recognizable phrases here and there, instead of laughing aloud at the showmanship and exaggeration of Sabado Gigante. I guess “use it or lose it” is an apt caveat for a foreign language learned in adulthood.

I remember vacationing with Heather a few years ago and carrying on epic 20-minute inebriated conversations with the workers in the port cities of Cozumel and Progreso. (And ordering lobster and exchanging currency for my dad in Cancún years before that.) I remember driving the Escort Van and engaging international students from Colombia and Spain in heated political discourse. I fondly remember doing Spanish homework for several of my close friends the collaborative language learning environment at UGA.

I definitely remember my sneering contempt for the idiots in my Spanish classes who knew pathetically little of the language, cared even less for the class, and couldn’t even pronounce the words correctly despite the fact that Spanish pronunciation is remarkably regular! I probably sound pedantic or bitter, but anyone who mumbles Me llamo es Felipe does not belong in a fourth-year Spanish composition class.

Now, I do retain the ability to speak and write in Spanish, and I could carry on a conversation with a native speaker with ease. But my aptitude is now below a standard that would allow me to be comfortable calling myself fluent, so that’s where I stand.

Nobody likes to lose a skill, and it is with humble contrition that I remove the “Spanish: Fluent writing and speaking” line from my résumé.