In honor of the beginning-of-the-school-year sickness, I thought I’d share a story about one time I got really sick at school.
Some back story first. When I was in first grade, the school I was attending decided that it would be a good idea to have us all be bilinguals or something.
I picked up Spanish pretty well, I enjoyed speaking it, and I thought I was pretty good at it [for a six-year-old]. I wanted to go to Spain I loved speaking it so much. Or maybe Mexico.
So the next year, I thought they were continuing Spanish, only a strange version of Spanish. We didn’t use *any* of the words we’d learned the year before [because, of course, I still remembered them]. The thing my little second-grader mind didn’t pick up on was that we were speaking *Portuguese*. [I wondered why we said “chow” to say goodbye…]
During one strange-Spanish class, we were singing a song. I had my arm around another girl’s shoulders, and she had her arm around my shoulders as well, and we were swaying back and forth. [It’s strange how I remember the small details.] Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling well. My hand went over my mouth in an effort to keep things in. Only, it didn’t work, and I vomited all over myself, and possibly everyone around me.
I don’t remember having a strange-Spanish class, and I never ate the school’s spaghetti, after that incident.