I'll stay here, thanks

Try as I might, I just can't like my HCom classes with anywhere near the enthusiasm I have for my language classes.

Yesterday's Spanish comp class was like a breath of fresh air after my first semester at Fullerton. This teacher actually knows not only the material but how to teach it -- and he loves words, their meanings, punctuation, orthography, grammar, and all that other great stuff. He demanded quite a bit of us on the first day, which I think is a good sign for the future.

Then this morning I was walking down a hallway of the Modern Languages wing with an Arabic professor, who as he passed the office of a Japanese colleague engaged him in a brief dialogue in Spanish. I asked the Arabic prof a question in Spanish, and he answered in like tongue right before making a few comments to another (Persian) student in Farsi.

I have never been sufficiently invested in a game of sports to cheer with gusto (well, except maybe No. 6's tennis lesson).

But there in the Modern Languages wing, watching an at-least-quadrilingual language lover at work, I think I understood better what the cheering urge is all about.

Can it be that language is, like math, a more direct channel for seeing a display of the creativity of God, free from the veneer of human wisdom that obscures most study in the humanities?