My first day at University (College in some countries), as a 31-year-old, turned out a little different from what I had hoped. It was a big thing I was doing, heading into study as an adult, after about four years of mental illness. I was pretty anxious, and that showed when I found myself sitting in a Chinese language class rather than the Psychology class I had enrolled for. I made a quiet escape, knowing full well that while learning Chinese might be interesting and even useful, I knew I would never pass. Languages and me have never gone together. Continue reading