Chapter 1: Mixed Signals

“Alright, class. Por favor, get your textbooks out and turn to pagina 345 or is it 145? Listos? Hoy, we will be discussing the subjunctive.”

“Everyone, please pair up into groups of two and answer the questions together.”

A loud roar took over the Spanish class as each classmate fought to pair up with the students whom they knew would ace this section.

Maria, however, sat back in her seat as each person tussled for the Spanish majors.

Her eyes rested on Sam, an exchange student who looked as still as a statue.

Sam hadn’t grasped the English language and was struggling to keep up with the college-level Spanish course his advisor had signed him up for, even considering dropping the class.

Sam, frozen, felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Maria. Nice to meet you.”

Sam turned around, stunned and startled to reveal eyes pensive with a mix of terror and relief.

“Hi, my English name is Sam. Nice to meet you,” Sam followed.

"Do you want to go through these questions together?"

Sam’s usual confidence and wordsmithery were 16 hours and three plane rides away, lost in the translation of cultures and languages.

Another mini-panic was making its arrival at his throat, like the bad tuna and spam his roommate had left in their kitchen the week before.

Maria watched his inner gears turn to find the words to reply.

For this class, he had to receive the message in English, translate it into Korean, and back out to Spanish at the speed of a snail's race.

It seemed like five to ten business days before Sam let out an affirmative, “Yes.”

He felt included for the first time since coming to the States to study.

“Señor Sam, cómo estas?” The professor sang as if he were a baritone in an opera.

He smiled and greeted the professor silently while thinking to himself, ‘He is only speaking English to throw me off. I must answer in Spanish. Oh no, the words aren’t coming out.’

“Profesor Jonas, that is a nice tie you have there. Where did you get it from?” Maria said in Spanish, revving him up, knowing the professor would gridlock on another old Navy story.

“Ah, Señora Maria, muchas gracias por tu pregunta. . .” The professor continued as if the classroom had a spotlight on him.

They watched in awe as he seemed to travel in time to only reveal his ex from his first tour, and gifted him the Macy’s bought tie before going to Spain for the first time.

“It would be good if you’d answer those questions. They count for your participation grade,” Maria warned as the professor glided to the other end of the classroom.

Sam nodded, knowing the rules of engagement but unable to articulate his thoughts fully.

“Class,” the professor roared. “You have exactly ten more minutes, and you will be presenting to the class. This assignment is worth 100 points toward your final score.”

Professor Jonas was an old-school professor who enjoyed Italian Food and his naval stories, but‌ found himself as the Director of the Spanish Department at the local university.

He was a character, frequently saying things to throw the class off and expand the mind. He would oscillate between a supportive mentor and a disappointed dad.

Sam’s throat was clamped shut, but he tried to resurrect the charm he had from back home.

Minutes later, it was time to present.

Maria and Sam watched as each group went through the questions seamlessly.

To Sam, it was as if each classmate were a native Spanish Speaker and he was on an elementary level.

It was now their turn.

By this time, Sam’s Navy blue shirt had gotten darker from sweating and feeling the pressure of an audience and a Professor who seemed to read minds.

The three-way translation felt like a mail exchange.

The words were stuck at the tip of his teeth, flying over his head like transmission signals between Seoul and Baltimore.

Noticing the intensity of his struggle, Maria threw a lifeline and whispered, “Exacto.”

She followed up with the right answer in his mother tongue. “맞아요 (Maj-ayo)?”

The sound of his native language felt like a cool breeze on a summer’s day to his overloaded system.

Sam then followed with the correct answer, and his sweat was finally starting to cool him off.

After the lesson, Sam reached out to Maria in the hallway.

“How did you know?” he asked. “Hangook salam?”

“You were definitely overheating, and I studied abroad in Seoul for a semester.”

"고맙습니다 (Gomapseumnida), I mean, thank you," Sam said, bowing his head slightly.

"아니에요 (Anieyo), it's okay," Maria replied in Korean.

“See you around, Sam! Actually, as a class, we usually go to a local coffee shop to study. Would you like to join us? We have a huge exam coming up.”

After the invitation, Sam bolted down the hall out of the University and skipped to his apartment to find his roommate with his feet in the air on the couch.

“I have a date.” He said into a phone screen and to his roommate.

“You have a date?” His roommate asked in disbelief.

“How could you find a date before me? I’ve been here for four years.”

His best friend was just waking up for the day and seemed to doubt his account as well.

“Really, what’s her name?”

Sam checked the paper he had saved from their group project and spelled out her name one letter at a time, “M-A-R-I-A”.

“Maria,” His friend and roommate said in concert.

“This guy hasn't had a date in 5 years, and now he's going out with a Maria?” His friend said.

Suspecting there was more to the story, his roommate asked, “Wait, isn't that the Spanish class with Professor Jonas?”

“Right”, Sam replied.

“And isn't this the place down the street?”

“Yes,” Sam said confidently.

“This is a group outing, look, man, don't get your hopes up, it's all I'm saying.”

“You woke me up this early for this? This guy!” The best friend said.