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Conor Sexton
The Temporary Tico
Published in
3 min readJun 13, 2014

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Today — this morning — I felt incredibly proud of myself. I’ve reached the culmination of a journey I didn’t even know existed a year ago; one that has been challenging and uncertain, but ultimately very rewarding.

So my Costa Rica program requires students to have two years of college-level Spanish. My problem, when I first became interested in the program, was that I had never taken a Spanish class in my life (except for in 2nd grade, when we learned red=rojo which I don’t think counts). In fact, Lawrence’s advisor for the program said she didn’t see any way I could apply and that I should consider other programs.

I did consider other programs, but in the end I set my jaw and got to work. I was going to teach myself enough Spanish to get to a 2-year level. Last July, I spent every weekday afternoon reading a Spanish textbook, doing practically every homework assignment. And to be honest … it really sucked most of the time. I worked a part-time job every morning and then sat isolated trying to learn a new language in the worst way possible — not something I would recommend. Actually, some days I just gave up and went to the pool or out with friends. Or I would cut my scheduled four-hour study session down to an hour and a half (with 19 Facebook breaks). Thankfully, one friend in particular helped immensely when she could, but for most of the process, I was alone.

I rearranged my junior year schedule to fit two Spanish classes in, and worked with a tutor a few late summer nights trying so hard to pass the placement test to get into the class I needed to. Fortunately, I did, and went on to learn in a classroom setting, which was a huge improvement from my dining room table.

And now, I’ve spent nearly three months in Costa Rica. Speaking, reading, living, breathing in Spanish. I am not fluent. Sometimes I still don’t understand simple phrases and feel stupid and embarrassed. Or I accidentally make up words or say something in French instead. I feel frustrated when my mind is exploding with thoughts I don’t know how to express. And yet. I am not the person I was on the plane ride here, sweating through my t-shirt because I was so nervous to live with a non-English speaking family.

I’ve had some incredible conversations with people I never would have been able to a year ago. From learning about coffee production for my project, to discussing political values with my host family. Or about Spiderman being way better than Captain America. I’ve learned little, untranslatable phrases that give my everyday conversations interesting edges and corners. I’ve found new ways and expressions for thinking about the past and future. On my more tourist-y excursions I’ve been the guy to help two confused strangers bridge a conversation gap.

Oh yeah. So what’s so special about this morning? I took what will probably be my final Spanish final. And I felt at ease. When I went into my professor’s office for the oral part of the exam, I couldn’t help but think back to how I felt 11 weeks ago — nervous, stupid, silent. This time around, I had a voice again. A new voice, shaped by a different culture, foreign words, and maybe still a bit rigid, but a voice.

So at the risk of sounding too proud, I’m going to say it:

Ha! I did it. And I’m so glad I did.

Thank you as always, for reading. Please check back in a week and a half or so for my final reflections on Costa Rica.

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