I have always cursed my memory, blaming drugs or genetics, but my thoughts are the problem. I like to think about other things. Girls and pizza still make me smile. Sports and friends bring back faint images, like the one where I reached and trapped the football with the very tips of my fingers…

Education brings back sour memories of kind adults shoving shit down my throat. When I was young, it was teachers telling me to follow the rules. Now I have influencers on screens clamoring to sell shortcuts for faster results. When it comes to language learning - I eventually discovered - the rules do not help you communicate.

This was a while ago now; eight years maybe. When I think back on anything more than five years past I just make up a number and hope. I was in New York, somewhere around 34th and 7th, listening to Tim Ferris on a crude electronic device my children already see as an artifact fit for the Museum of Ancient History.

Thinking back, I don’t remember Mr. Farrell’s lesson on the past perfect tense, but I do remember rushing from world history to English class, slanting and squirming through the shuffling masses so I could get a seat next to Alison Valentine.

I would be hard-pressed to tell you how an adult learns a second language. This is a problem seeing that I am an English teacher. For over a decade I’ve crafted fine-tuned lessons and clever shortcuts for students without ever applying my own advice.

You have an idea of where you want to go, but it is far from definite, and that is okay. It is necessary to be an indefinite optimist when you are a maker. Creative endeavors require freedom.