Sunday morning: My French sucks, and there are so many Dutch words I have to memorize! I’m going to fail the tests! (Never mind the fact that they aren’t even being graded.) And I have an essay to write and I don’t even have a thesis! *rolls onto stomach and goes back to sleep*
Sunday afternoon: I’m going to proof-read a friend’s essay instead of studying. Uh-huh, uh-huh. Ah, good point. Huh… what? *an hour later* Oh shoot, I’m going to get my dinner started *dances towards kitchen*
Sunday night: I can’t believe we have to present a French newspaper as a part of the final exam. A frigging newspaper when I can’t even read a children’s book?! What is this?! *sits down at desk* *gets up and starts pacing* *reads a book instead*
Sunday at midnight: Okay, okay, fine, I’ll start revising the French grammar we have to know for the test. Uh-huh, I knew that. Okay, that’s an easy one. Well, duh. Wait, that’s all? Huh. Maybe I should get started on the vocab as well. Yep, yep, lots of reflexive verbs… all those lovey-dovey idioms, got it. I’m done! *goes to bed with a strange expression*
Monday morning: *sits up blearily* It’s already eight? Damn, and I thought I’d do my Dutch homework… now, how do I describe a traditional Korean house with all its trimmings in Dutch?
Monday morning, ten minutes before leaving for university: *fires up laptop* Dikke Van Dale… Here we go! Wait, Acker is really akker? And Mauer is muur? Das Jahr is het jaar? Man, I love Dutch. I really do. Now, I have no idea if the word groetkaart really exists… probably not. But that’s what the teacher is there for.
Monday morning, in French class: This isn’t so bad. I actually understand most things, even if I can’t express my thoughts in French.
Monday midday, in Dutch class: This isn’t so bad. I actually understand 95 % of what is said in the classroom, and I can even express my thoughts in Dutch.
Monday afternoon: *leaves university slightly bewildered*