The Newcomer

A new student appeared in our class this week. She is unlike all the other students in our class, for reasons beyond the bizarre fact that she has joined us halfway through the semester.

Her name is Anne, she is in her early sixties, and she is also taking a Chinese class at the university. She never specified her reasons for taking Arabic, specifically, but she alluded to the idea that both these languages come from countries high on the US list of terrorist nations. We only had a couple of minutes to chat before class started, so I really don't know if she is planning to visit any Chinese- or Arabic-speaking countries, or if she wants to better understand what people from these countries are saying in news reports.

Perhaps she firmly believes there is a real threat of one of these countries invading the US, making these language skills particularly valuable. I'm trying not to assume she's that kind of crazy.

I do know she was very impressed with Eihab's style of teaching and the fact that my classmates and I can identify vocabulary words he utters, then write them in Arabic script.

"You are amazing," she whispered into my ear each time I wrote down a word.

She had to leave early to get to her Chinese class, so we weren't able to talk more after class, but I expect to see her there again. She was very appreciative when I made a point of walking her through the textbook and explaining how the online component works.

As I read back over what I just wrote, I realize that it sounds like I might have made this woman up. She might be my internal cheerleader, a mental construct I have devised to keep me going through the semester.

I assure you, she is real. But so is my fatigue about the class.

You see, I have lost my excitement about class, and the next eight weeks stretch out before me in a seemingly endless slog. I have come to this kind of nadir at the middle of every semester since I returned to college ten years ago. The difference now is that I have zero motivation to keep going.

I enrolled in this Arabic class for fun. Well, maybe not "fun," exactly, but for my own edification, rather than for a degree or job requirement. And at first, it really was fun. Each new character we learned led to new vocabulary; each new word led to phrases we could use; before we knew it, we were engaging in meaningful conversation.

Well, not meaningful in any grand sense, but useful, at least.

Right this moment, if I really had to, I could introduce myself to an Arab-speaking person in her own language, tell her where I am from and what I do, ask the same of her, and invite her to have coffee or tea with me. I could even tell her how I take my coffee, ask how she takes hers, and describe my house and car to her.

If that's not meaningful then I don't know what is.

Perhaps this new student is a gift from the universe, a real-life construct who will re-energize my focus and propel me through the end of the semester.

I am skipping one class this week to enjoy a morning at home with my husband. Next week, I will dig deep to find some remaining enthusiasm to complete what I signed up for.

Who knows? Maybe very soon Anne and I will be discussing, in Arabic, our coffee preferences, our houses, our cars. And I could have a shiny, eager study partner who is not twenty years my junior.

Insha'Allah!