Narrative Essay About Learning Spanish

"¡Hija! ¿Tienes hambre? What would you like to eat?"

"Chicken, mommy!" I responded.

"Danita, en español, please."

"Mami, ¡querer pero no poder!"

Well, I certainly wanted to deliver a response in Spanish, but I didn't know how to. Even worse, I was okay with that.

When I was seven years old, I had informally decided to refrain from learning Spanish. English would suffice. Even so, I was forced to emulate my two immigrant parents while I remained disinterested. Perhaps my words were conjugated incorrectly and my accent sounded atrocious. It made no difference to me.

Year after year, however, I found myself in predicaments all caused by the same problem: I was not bilingual.

Sure enough, this created a number of disputes in my household.

I was ashamed.

Later on, when I entered high school, I began to volunteer at local hospitals, my new environment reminding me of my lackluster Spanish abilities. Every other day, I faced the questions of several Latino patients who believed I could understand them. Unfortunately, my lack of useful responses led me to redirect these people to someone who could speak Spanish comfortably. As they walked away, their disappointed faces weren't hard to decipher.

I wanted to speak with them, but I didn't know how.

I felt

Time after time, I encountered people of my culture who needed assistance, only now, I could help on my own. At this point, I had taken my high school's Spanish classes, I practiced Spanish with my parents, and my Spanish had improved significantly. Whether I was at work or in a hospital, I quickly realized that my bilingual identity was also developing another part of my personality: a passion for service.

I felt determined.

Although helping others was reason enough to continue my language studies, I had other relationships left to amend. In high school, I still couldn't overlook my sense of embarrassment when speaking to my grandparents, but it was Sunday night again! At times like this, my mind wandered back to the Latinx people I encountered on a daily basis. A simple Spanish phrase was enough to fill my people with pride. Imagining that pride reflected in my grandparents' eyes gave me the confidence to reach for my father's phone.

I was