When English Haunted Me

“I read your composition, and I’m afraid you don’t belong in my class.  In fact, your writing skills are so poor I suggest you explore other options. College may not be in the cards for you.”

            

The English professor’s words stung, and fiercely.  I had just turned eighteen and had recently returned to California. The previous seven years I had been living in Nicaragua, completely immersed in a Spanish-speaking universe.  English—the language of the first eleven years of my life—had retreated to a dormant part of my brain. 

It would be a few years before my birth language returned to the forefront.

            

Fortunately, in spite of the instructor’s admonition, I remained in college. His words, however, severely traumatized me. For years, I believed myself incapable of writing clearly in English. 

But I loved to write.  Of that much I was sure.

My teachers in Nicaragua had validated my affection for the written word. They often praised how well I expressed myself in what was, in essence, my second language.

But on that day, as I stood before the professor, English was hiding in the nether-regions of my brain. I was frustrated because I couldn’t produce the correct words to ask him to be patient, to allow time for my birth language to return—which was something I knew would eventually happen.

And, yes, the language of my childhood did return. 

Still, my confidence when writing in English remained low.  I never imagined anyone would take pleasure from something I composed in my “native” tongue. 

Under these circumstances, Spanish, my adopted language, became my creative outlet. During my idle hours, I filled notebooks with poetry—and English was reserved for term papers, reports, and business letters. 

The college instructor’s statement would haunt me for decades.  And although a few years later I ended up writing and editing newsletters for several organizations—professionally, and in English—I felt like an imposter.

Even though I only spent a week in his classroom, I have often thought about my first college English instructor.  Because of his remark, writing in English became an intimidating mountain that I had to struggle to scale.

           

But at present, when I’m feeling somewhat proud of how far I’ve come, I wonder what he would say.