I’m getting old. It’s been a long time since I could nimbly pluck the right answers to life’s most mind-numbing questions from thin air. Questions about jobs, primary schools, interior decor and what’s for dinner draw a blank stare from me.  I’ve spent the last few months pretending I didn’t hear the question, taking the answer from other people’s random status updates, or mumbling about decision fatigue.

And that’s why I love my brand spanking new Dutch classes.

I’ve heard many immigrants to the Netherlands complain about  inburgering – a law the requires non-European immigrants to integrate by learning the Dutch language and social norms.

I must be an unabashed socialist because I’m very happy that the Dutch government is:

a) sending me to learn Dutch

b) picking up the bill

and

c) painting a stark comparison to my own country’s ridiculous conservatism.

They even threw in a spiffy three ring binder and language book.

Three days a week, I go to my Netherlands as a second language class with a strict teacher who regularly reprimands me for erroneous conjugations– u kunt kills me every time. The curriculum covers everything from the un-sexiness of Dutch men to euthanasia.

I’ve come to terms with speaking like a wise mythical character for the rest of my immigrant life. Saying things like “Yesterday am I early to the store gone.” no longer phases me.

As I channel my inner Yoda,  I realize why I love learning languages.

There is a right answer.

With all the uncertainty in life, the past tense of do, will always be did.

Now finally, that’s something I can write home about.