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January 12, 1945.

Dear Mother and Daddy,

Things have not ended
so well as they begun. At the
beginning of the week, everything
was perfect, now everything is
all confused. To tell you the
truth, it's rather nice to have a
confused social life, it's interesting
to find out what's going to happen
next, but as for classes, that's
entirely a different matter.
I have a Spanish class at
nine in which the professor
talks Spanish so fast I can't
possibly understand him - Naturally
he wouldn't think of keeping
anything in English. At ten
o'clock I have a French class
in which the professor talks so
softly you can't understand him
either. It's confusing enough just
between the two. At eleven
o'clock I finally get to a class
where they speak English, but that
professor usually gets so disgusted
with the class because they
never say anything constructive
so he just dismisses the class
and tells to go home and do a
little thinking. I might say that
I am in rather a confused
state.