I always wondered what kind of langauge learner I was.  In linguistics classes, I learned that there are traits a good language learner has, and I would always try to figure out which category I fell into.  There was the category that seemed to imply that (pardon my paraphrasing) extroverts made better language learners.  It always depressed me a little.  I don't think I am an extrovert.  Sometimes, I prefer listening to talking.  I would pressure myself in language situations to be more outgoing and talk as much as I could.  But when, for whatever reason, I didn't have the energy to do so, I would feel guilty about wasting a good opportunity, and not being a better language learner.  This has been going on inside my brain for years, but just the other day, while walking down the street, I remembered another thing I learned while teaching Spanish at the University of Pittsburgh.  Listening comes before speaking.  To be a good speaker, you have to be a good listener.    If you are super active all the time and speak at every opportunity, when do you get to listen?   

I am not about to write a theory of second language acquisition based on this experience, but it does make me feel more justified in my approach to language learning.   All roads lead to Rome.  The important thing is to keep walking.

For 18 or so years of my life, Sundays involved getting up early and going to religious education classes for children.  Even after I started high school and was too old to be a student, I continued assisting in or teaching the classes, since my Mom ran the program.  It's been 7 or 8 years since I taught one of those Sunday morning classes, but the memory, or the habit, seems to be embedded in my subconscious.   We just started the winter term at the ALC,  and my new schedule has me teaching just one class on Saturday mornings.  It's a Junior's class, so my students are about 12 or 13 years old.  It feels like old times!   From the moment I woke up this morning, I couldn't shake the feeling that today was a Sunday.  At first I couldn't figure out why, but I really think my new schedule is stirring up old childhood memories of Sunday mornings gone by.  I wonder if  Morocco has  powdered jelly doughnuts I can enjoy after class?

What's Christmas like in Morocco?  For one thing, it's only two days long.    

Fortunately, I had about three weeks off between the fall and winter sessions, and since this nicely coincided with Christmas and New Years, I decided to head to Rabat to visit a friend and former classmate.  After classes ended, I stuck around for a few days, took care of some business and said my good-byes.  I have to admit, I was kind of nervous for a couple reasons.  For one thing, I hadn’t left Tetouan for any reason in about a month and a half.  It felt so comfortable, I knew more or less what I was doing, where I was going, and what to expect.  I was afraid leaving my little nest would be too much of an unpleasant shock.  I was also excited, though.  I think there was a big part of me that was feeling suffocated and needed to get out! 

And get out I did.  For about 10 USD I caught a bus from Tetouan to Rabat.  The trip took almost 5 hours exactly, with two stopovers in various locals.  I had been looking forward to that trip for so long!  Ever since I was a little girl crossing the Mason-Dixon line in the backseat of my grandparents Mercedes , I have loved the process of traveling.  It’s almost therapeutic.  My mind stops racing and thoughts float through my head as the scenery slips by.  Staring out the window, the vibrations of the car and the constant drone of highway driving would calm me, often to sleep, but many times just to a point of pleasant sedation.  Even the best book or the latest video game was not enough to lure me from this state.  Now I wouldn’t say that I was particularly stressed in Tetouan.  Life was good, but I had been sick for over a month and felt worn down.  Being in a new place, speaking a new language and teaching from a new textbook can also wear a person down pretty quickly.  So the thought of sitting in a bus for five whole hours and watching the scenery slip by was really enticing! 

The trip was really everything I wanted.  I brought about a half ton of books that I of course never touched!  It was a cold day, but the sun was shining brightly and warmed my face as I looked out the window.  I sighed deeply.  All was well with the world.  Only a single, tiny worry crossed through my mind.  I was going to Rabat to visit my dear friend Melodee.  We had studied Arabic together in Jordan two summers ago and got along well.  But it had been two years.  What if we didn’t get along?  What if she secretly hated short, Spanish-speaking, vegetarian Pennsylvanians?  What if she didn’t want to do anything I wanted to do?  What if she wanted to watch American football and drink fresh buttermilk all day?  I hate buttermilk!  I was afraid that even if things were just a little bit bad, it would make being away from my family at Christmas positively unbearable.  Ok, I told myself, you’ve got to make the most of this.  So you don’t want to drink buttermilk at Christmas.  What do you want to do, Alaina?  I already knew the answer.  I had decided after watching Love Actually that I wanted to spend my Christmas doing two things: cooking delicious meals and watching movies late into the night.  I have found knowing what you want really does make you feel better.  And after a fabulous, relaxing and inspiring week and a half with Melodee, I am now convinced that knowing what you want is often synonymous with getting it. 

After my first night in Rabat, all my worries about the coming week and a half melted away.   We spent the night splurging and spoiling ourselves!  We happened upon this really posh bakery where I bought fancy chocolates and Melodee bought (I kid you not!) Foie Gras and specialty coffee!  Then we stuffed ourselves at a fancy Keiten Sushi restaurant, followed by a giant ice cream sunday and an ice cream Christmas cake (buche du noele) which we got to go.  That night, we snuggled up to the space heater and watched movies until we couldn’t keep our eyes open.   The next morning, while I was eating breakfast, Melodee asked me if I had any Christmas favorites I wanted her to download.  I took a calculated risk in admitting I wanted the Dolly Parton Christmas album.  “Great!” said Melodee, “Growing up, all we listened to in my house was Dolly Parton, Kenny Rodgers…”  I laughed.  “Actually,” I admitted, “The Christmas album is a duet with Kenny Rodgers…”  Within a few minutes the album was downloaded and I was unapologetically singing along to the lyrics.  And then to top it all, we sat down and planned our Christmas Eve and Christmas Day feasts. 


* Moroccan Christmas: http://tv.yahoo.com/the-office/show/moroccan-christmas/episode/192342/recap