The words started to mean more than instructions. They seem to be directed at me. I shook my head subtly. This can’t be right. She must be talking about something in an objective manner. The words droned on. My mind started to catch words like ‘integration’, ‘culture’, ‘exposure’… She was saying something along the line of I am not doing it right. Flustered emotions began to rise within me. My lips started to quiver as I felt the words attacking my body, my mind and my soul. She says I act like a kid. Really? My brain started to justify. Stop it, I told myself. This is nothing personal, I added. She continued her lecture on being an independent learner, one who learns from both inside and outside of the classroom. Stop it, I told her silently. My chest started to heave in a faster rhythm as the time between breaths gets shorter. I wriggled uncomfortably in my seat, trying to distract my mind from the words that seemed to be hurling mercilessly towards me. She is finally turning the spotlight away from me. I stood up and moved towards the door, ending my morning class with, ‘Je m’excuse.’
Tears spilled as I ran off to the green patch of field just beside. The short burst gave my body the opportunity to release the unspoken sadness. The day was beautiful, with the almost perfect weather where you can take a nice long walk without feeling too uncomfortably warm. I settled onto a wooden bench where I faced an empty tennis court. Questions came, making me wonder what had just happened back there. The ego probably took a hit as she felt that her hard work and effort have not been acknowledged. The space was heavenly compared to the suffocating room. The quietness which surrounded me allowed the noises that crowded my mind to slowly seep away. I took a deep breath before continuing sobbing away in solitude…
The miscommunication has been cleared up between the teacher and I. Today’s episode has just triggered off months of unsaid thoughts and emotions. Learning a new language is a challenge. You meet people who are encouraging, you also cross path with people who are not. As a tourist, life is in general cozy and blissful. Yet as an immigrant, things roughen up a lot more. Will all these experiences strength me as a person? I do hope so. As of now, I am still going forward of course.
Signing off with love,