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No me gusta Espanol.

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No me gusta Espanol

Last year she could be seen rolling around in her rickety wheelchair, whacking her indestructible ruler on desks as she went. This is the teacher known as… Senora Smith. I celebrated last year knowing that I only had to suffer a few weeks with her and rejoiced in the fact I’d never have to see her again. So imagine my surprise as I stroll into Spanish class of my 10th grade year to see Mrs. Smith lurking around the classroom, ruler in hand and worse of all, fully mobile. Apparently her broken ankle from last year had finally healed. “Ughgg” I mumble an inaudible noise that imitated my distaste for this class, Spanish, her teaching, this class… and the list continues. I inch my way to the seat towards the farthest depths of the class, unable to break eye contact with Mrs. Smith. I look around at the ill-fated students who also sit around her classroom completely oblivious to the horror that would be bestowed upon them for the next 2nd period for the rest of the year. The bell rings. The hour and a half timer begins. I knew that the clock would slowly tick by only to prolong the events of this class. She stands up, barely taller then her own desk, and begins to walk around. Beads of sweat start to flow down my face. “God, why am I so nervous?” I thought. “Okay,” she begins. “Ah jfkdlasjklfdsjajfkldajlk gibberishfdaeagesyeahfdaeeeeecesagesadawgwagewa kjjfdskajfldsajlkfjkdsalkflkdsoiekcneasilnviekdnvielsajlkvnkesnvesfdkjhaers,” she rapidly whirls in a language that was so foreign to me that it sounded like complete gibberish to my ears. The occasional world would drop in like, “bien”… “GOOD” I
mentally praise my self for understanding at least one word… “Hola” she says. TWO words. “Does everybody understand?” she asks in English. I look around the room and everyone’s face mimic my own thoughts, that in Spanish one we all learned the same phrase, “Hola Me llamo (insert name here). Como estas? Muy bien, y tu?” Wow that would last us all of two seconds in a Spanish speaking country. Suddenly I see a finger searching through the classroom until it outstretches towards the back of the room… towards me. It curls as a summon for me to join her at the front of the class. I unwilling stand up and if by a trance stagger towards the front of the room to stand next to Mrs. Smith. She comes up to maybe the middle of my ribcage, but just standing next to her sent shivers down my spine, not really knowing what to expect. I see the faces change from fear to relief, as they were happy that I was chosen instead of them. Another wave of foreign mumble came out of Mrs. Smith’s mouth… then a pause which cued me to attempt to answer. “Hhhola…” I begin nervously, “Me llamo Anna. Como te llamas? Como estas? Muy bien y tu?” I recite from memory. The small minority of the class who actually understood Senora’s Smith question laugh at my response. She glares at me and shakes her head as I make my way back to my seat.
“So class,” a silent sigh of relief waves across the room, she was speaking in English, “Bienvinido,” (Welcome, I silently praise, THREE words) “to Spanish class. I am Mrs. Smith. This is a Spanish class so today is the last day I will speak in English.” “Yikes,” I gasp. “Now don’t have a heart attack,” (she seems to use this phrase a lot) “but this class will be hard”. The class groans. “Now don’t have a heart-attack but there is no eating or drinking in this class, except for me. I have an excuse.” The class nods simultaneously. “I have diabetes don’t have a heart attack, but if I fall on the floor please do not laugh at me.” I stare in shock. Oh god, does she REALLY fall on the floor? And people…laugh? “If I do fall I need food, so please do not be pigs and give me some of your food. Do not laugh, okay?” Mrs. Smith says. I looked around the class and each of us shares a similar expression of both shock and slight disbelief. Someone finally asks the question we were all thinking, “Senora Smith… do you faint… often?” “Oh no, not TOO often.” “And do people really… laugh Senora Smith?” She glares at the poor girl, “Well I don’t know… I fainted… I’m not awake to see them!” She smugly responds. I continue to look around and made eye contact with this one girl. Her eyes scream “Dude this is freaking crazy!” Mine yell back, “I know! Who IS this woman?!” Our class as a whole shift to the end of our seats, eyes fixed on Mrs. Smith as we anticipate her to fall at any moment.
She walks to this one girl dressed in all black and simply stares at her for a short time. “What are you reading?” she asks. The girl responds by explaining the Anime cartoon book she had in her hand. Senora Smith was quiet for a moment, “You’re weird,” she silently says just loud enough for the girl and the entire class to hear. My jaw drops, “Really? REALLY? Did she seriously just say that?” I ask myself. The girl stares at Mrs. Smith with wide eyes and eventually returns to her book as Mrs. Smith continued to make her way around the room. She raises her ruler for one more attack on the desk, which would reveal another shocking turn of events but the bell’s joyous ring saves us all
from any other insane possibilities. Everyone got up and immediately sprints for the door, not even bothering to look back at our new Spanish teacher and worst of all dreading the return to her class for the following days, not really knowing what Mrs. Smith would throw at us next.





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