#placementtest

When my train reached Ødense, I thought the Danish voice on the loud speaker instructed those continuing on their journey to move to the front cars of the train, but I understood him even less when he repeated himself in English. I still had an hour more to go before I reached the Vejen station. I asked some young women. They thought I needed to get out on the platform and enter the front cars from outside, but they weren’t sure. I was afraid to leave on a ‘maybe,’ so I asked a porter. He gruffly told me to get off the train and pointed out the open doors and vaguely towards the front. Was I supposed to go there? I followed his instructions, but the cars in front weren’t even connected to the rest of the train. Wasn’t it supposed to be the same train? I wasn’t sure if they were the right ones, but with no other options I shoved my bags and myself through at least fifteen people and into the car. There were no empty seats. I squeezed passed people and stepped over huge bags in the aisles, looking for any indication that I was were I needed to be.

I was surprised when I heard someone call my name from behind. Who did I know in Ødense? I had only been to the city three times my entire life. I turned around on saw Roody, one of the students at the højskole from last year. “Oh good, I’m in the right place,” and he assured me I was. We immediately began talking in English to catch up, but I promise you, as soon as we stepped off the bus, it was all Danish. 

Fifteen other højskole students waited with us at the station, but there were only eight seats in the van that came to pick us up. Roody and I offered to walk the three kilometers to the school, if the bus could take our heavy bags. A young woman named Bridget decided to join us. The three of us began to exchange getting-to-know you questions in Danish on our walk, and I held my own. Even back at back the school, three of the teachers commented on how much my Danish had improved. I understood so much more than last year.

On our walk Bridget and I became pals. She’s from the UK, but lives in France. She picked up Danish for fun as a teenager—just taught herself for kicks—also studies Lithuanian. There’s another language I’m forgetting that she’s fluent in—beyond those five languages, she has a handful of others that she can “order a train ticket or ask for directions in.” Watched her flip between English, Danish, Lithuanian, French, then back to English depending on the native language of the person she’s talking to. Oh, and she’s only twenty-two years old.

Maria, a young woman born in Poland, but spent most of her life in England, quickly befriended Bridget and I. Maria has been studying Danish for less than a year and she struggled to catch what was being said. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “I was in the same boat last year. I never really knew what happening.” She was stressing about the placement test. “If you’re in the beginning class, then that’s where you’ll need to be.” She was fine with that. I explained a few things that were happening for her, just as people did for me last year. 

Maria wasn’t placed in the first group, like we had expected, or the second group, which I had been. She was placed in the third group. “I only understood little of what was said in class,” she told me, “but I asked around, and it seemed the rest of the class understood the same.” She knew more than even she realized. I expected to take her under my wing, but I don’t think she really needs it. It’s funny how intimidating conversation can be and suddenly you forget that you actually know. It did not surprise anyone that they placed Bridget in the fourth group. A couple of students from last year were disappointed that they didn’t make it to that group, but apparently, this year’s advanced group is at an even higher level than they were last year.  

I love it, because I can just listen to them talk. For whatever reason, I find the advanced students much easier to understand than native speakers, maybe they talk slower or maybe they don’t mumble as much. At any rate, they’re a good stepping stone for me.

I’m happy with the group I’m in. I have Henning as my teacher, and I just adore the man. I feel on par with my classmates. It’s a lot of work learning a foreign language. I shouldn’t expect more from my two years of study. I think last year I was disappointed I had less access to my knowledge, while this year I think I’m more realistic in my expectations of myself. 

I do look at my fellow students that have five or six languages under their belt with a little awe. I wish I would have applied myself more in high school French. I wish I would have learned more Spanish in my ten years at Rosti. I can see that reading and writing in other languages improves storytelling, heightens empathy, and broadens your options to a global level. I am determined to see my Danish studies through though. Maybe I’ll pick up French or Spanish in a year or two. The people I meet here are so smart and accomplished. Just as it did last year, they inspire me to work for more.