The problem with learning a new language, besides losing that formidable childhood ability to effortlessly soak up words and grammar, is that what is taught in language classes isn't what people really speak.

I've been studying Spanish for five years. I can read Spanish language literature and newspapers. I have reasonably good comprehension when I listen to political speeches, somewhat less for newscasts, way less for telenovas (soap operas). I struggle to keep up in social situations. Snatches of conversation overheard in the streets sometimes sound like Turkic.

On my visit with Patty's family in Lagos de Moreno, I met Maria Torres, a realtor who helps Patty's mom with her real estate interests. She may be the best real estate agent in Union de San Diego Antonio, the nearby pueblo where Patty was born. But to me, she's a Spanish teacher.

Maria Torres, Spanish Teacher

Maria is one of the common people, with modest circumstances and a big heart. She effects masculine dress and crude mannerisms. During our conversation, she spit over her shoulder and adjusted her crotch like a major league batter. Her Spanish is earthy and genuine.

For example, if I were to ask someone to stop lying to me, I might say something like: "No me mientas." (Don't lie to me.) In the same situation, Maria would probably say "No me jales." It transliterates to "Don't pull me", but that's not what it means. A closer translation might be "Don't jerk me around." But neither translation conveys the real sense: "Don't pull my (here insert slang word for penis).

You can't get this stuff at Berlitz.

I'll share just one more, and it's a honey. "Nos van a dar una torcida de la riata." (Literally: We're going to give another twist to the lariat.) It might be used in a discussion between a team selling real estate, in reference to negotiating strategy. And consistent with Mexican propensity for circumlocution, it indeed really means what you think it does (see example above).

Erika is another Spanish teacher, my principal teacher. I have been studying with her for several years.

Erika Corral, Profesora de Español

Intellectual, cultured and artistic, Erika couldn't be more different from Maria. I have clumsy conversations with her about Mexican poets and listen to her recount her latest trek in Tibet.

Erika pushed me through conjugations—all fourteen tenses—and drove me through again. She led me through the trackless wilderness of pronouns. She had me write out translations of Juan Rulfo and compose essays.

But she isn't limited to academy Spanish. I share with her expressions I hear on the street. She fine tunes my understanding of what I pick up and adds a few juicy ones of her own. For example, an alternative to "No me jales," might be "No mames." (Mamar—to suck). Patty tells me this expression used to be common with uneducated people, but that today's teenagers have picked it up and use it a lot.

Worse, there's "No jodas," which is absolutely vulgar. I'm not going to explain further here except to say the translations of mamar and joder rhyme.

Not all the expressions I'm learning are coarse. Nor are they particularly entertaining, at least to my twisted mind. But they're the essence of any language. No me jales is proper Spanish, even though you won't understand it by consulting the official dictionary of the Royal Academy.

I'm grateful that Erika, Patty, Maria and so many others are in my life and are willing to put up with my questions. They are helping me make the transition from a student of Spanish to a speaker of it, and I love them for it.