Not much progress to report during spring break week. Retrogression, perhaps, but I did not hit the beaches of the Baltic Sea (Morze Baltyckie), which would be cold at this time of year—and are never none too warm. This week, our second week back, I am completely whelmed by waves of homework, dashed and stunned and discouraged and exasperated by the complexity of this language. But not drowned yet.
I calculate the hours: @300 in, with only 9700 more to go. That, of course, assumes that one has talent and that the equation talent + 10,000 hours of practice = expertise is, in fact, accurate. We shall see. Before spring break, our last minutes of class were devoted to singing in Polish one of the few ethnic songs I remember from my childhood: Jak szybko mijaja chwile (“how quickly pass the moments”). Knowing the melody, pretty and sad, I was asked to solo, which I did, prettily and sadly: “how swiftly flows the time—the years, the days, the moments.” The years are short, no doubt, but the hours are long.
