I briefly forgot that not every university follows an honor code like Southwestern does. Several classes took their final exam in one large lecture hall (a little sterile compared the small classrooms at Southwestern). The air was pulled taught under constant vigilance of one or two proctors (in Southwestern exams, a proctor stays in the classroom in brief intervals so as not to waste his/her time). Uncomfortable regulations hovered about seating and placing test copies out of neighbors' sight (for most students at a small college, these rules end up futile and thus aren't sought for at all). I felt minute disdain that the professors distrust toward their students was so towering that they spent precious time creating unique exams for every individual (professors' belief in students' morality bolsters my self-respect so I am never tempted to cheat. These sharp restrictions give me the impression that professors expect us to cheat, as if they think we are innately and incurably unethical).
Despite the aseptic SAT-like exam ambiance, I exited the lecture hall complete with term 1.
Half of a study abroad experience had ended.
I felt incomplete on one hand: I had only grazed the surface of knowing the group members departing the following weekend. I most likely would never meet them again- a striking, unfamiliar realization to me (I have lived in the Austin area, surrounded by the same faces, for as long as I can remember). Spain was still such a large, uncharted territory. People still automatically respond to me in English despite crafting my Spanish.
On the other hand, the class was like an interactive exhibit of cultures. My experience with these cultures were short-lived, but nonetheless enlightening. To travel to Valencia, sit in grammar class, and have daily picnic lunches with native New Yorkers, rural Iowans, Japanese and Russian students is a chance bestowed only upon the truly fortunate.
I haven't visited the globally impacting cities like Madrid or Barcelona, but I can navigate Alicante sometimes without Google maps (which requires high levels of familiarity for the directionally challenged). Despite that I speak like an tourist (and appear obviously not-European), I have utilized Spanish to escape from confusion (i.e. finding taxi stops, clarifying menu content) and sustained conversations with native Spanish speakers. These are feats I have hardly imagined I would ever accomplish. I always predicted that my Spanish would not expand beyond direly vital phrases like "ayuda" or "cuanto cuesta."
So I joined the group and program coordinators to celebrate the end of a study abroad term. We walked to the cafe on campus and two tables of tapas awaited us. The chairs were pushed to the outskirts of the cafe, serving to hold our possessions while we ate lunch standing and migrating between foods and people. For some group members, this would have been the last taste of empanadas and Spanish croquets. But I still have a month to immerse in this beautiful, warm culture.
Despite the aseptic SAT-like exam ambiance, I exited the lecture hall complete with term 1.
Half of a study abroad experience had ended.
I felt incomplete on one hand: I had only grazed the surface of knowing the group members departing the following weekend. I most likely would never meet them again- a striking, unfamiliar realization to me (I have lived in the Austin area, surrounded by the same faces, for as long as I can remember). Spain was still such a large, uncharted territory. People still automatically respond to me in English despite crafting my Spanish.
On the other hand, the class was like an interactive exhibit of cultures. My experience with these cultures were short-lived, but nonetheless enlightening. To travel to Valencia, sit in grammar class, and have daily picnic lunches with native New Yorkers, rural Iowans, Japanese and Russian students is a chance bestowed only upon the truly fortunate.
I haven't visited the globally impacting cities like Madrid or Barcelona, but I can navigate Alicante sometimes without Google maps (which requires high levels of familiarity for the directionally challenged). Despite that I speak like an tourist (and appear obviously not-European), I have utilized Spanish to escape from confusion (i.e. finding taxi stops, clarifying menu content) and sustained conversations with native Spanish speakers. These are feats I have hardly imagined I would ever accomplish. I always predicted that my Spanish would not expand beyond direly vital phrases like "ayuda" or "cuanto cuesta."
So I joined the group and program coordinators to celebrate the end of a study abroad term. We walked to the cafe on campus and two tables of tapas awaited us. The chairs were pushed to the outskirts of the cafe, serving to hold our possessions while we ate lunch standing and migrating between foods and people. For some group members, this would have been the last taste of empanadas and Spanish croquets. But I still have a month to immerse in this beautiful, warm culture.