I marched out of class today it was so bad...

Well, I didn't actually walk out of class during the class, though I was sitting there fantasizing about it.

My day started off as quite normal. I went to pick up my laundry and the ladies who were working there stopped talking and turned their backs when I walked in. The one who seems to be in charge, said, "senor?" today, and I opened my wallet to pull out the ticket. But since I've been using my credit card to pay for lunches now to save my cash, I had all of these credit card receipts in my wallet and had to pull out all of this paper to find the ticket. Finally I did and she brought me my clothes and told me it was 19 pesos. That's the most it has been since I've been here and I'm not sure why. Is this inflation?

I returned home, showered and got dressed and took the subte to Avenida de Mayo, went to a cafe for medialunas and cafe con leche and went to my tango class.

I think it's been a week since I've had a tango class. We started with walking and ochos. Marcelo kept saying "mas pivot" - more pivot, and "mas cintura" - more waist - when I was trying to do the ochos, which can be very difficult - you step at a diagonal, bring the other foot to meet the outstretched leg, and pivot to face the other direction - these can be done going forward or backwards, and are a lot easier (though still not easy) when at least you have a partner to hold on to. I started wondering why I am doing this stuff to myself. I could have a very comfortable life not learning anything new and not having to hear "mas pivot" or have people correct my Spanish constantly.

My feet were hurting me in my dance shoes, which I think are now too small, so I took them off and danced in my socks. Marcelo's tango studio is kind of dirty now, I think because he's been sick, so I ended up cleaning his floor with my socks, which are now black on the bottom.

Class was good, and aside from him continually telling me the same thing "mas pivot", I think I did ok and was not toooooo frustrated.

I went to a new restaurant for lunch where I found the ever elusive vegetable. I ordered a breaded, fried chicken breast that came with olives and tomatoes and capers on top and a side of steamed vegetables. Miracle of all miracles! The veggies were really steamed, like oversteamed, but they were vegetables. The waiter brought olive oil which I put on them with lemon and a little salt. They were delicious and so was the chicken, but the waiter was so slow. When I got there I motioned for him to bring me a menu and he ignored me - he was serving a large table of people who must have been very important because he kept going back to them, bringing them bread, bringing them drinks, etc., and ignoring my request for a menu. I thought about just getting up and getting one, but I didn't. Instead I waited. Finally he came over and said something to me, but had no menu, and I said, "la carta?" - he said, "una carta?", and I said, "duh" (I didn't really say that, but I was thinking it). I don't get why menus are so difficult to come by - I need to ask someone for an explanation.

Anyway, I finally got my food, and finally got my check (which I also had to wait for after I motioned for it) and got to school late.

I took the elevator up to the 3rd floor and went to use the restroom. I was actually thinking, while sitting in the restaurant waiting for the check, that I might not go to school today, then I decided that I would go but tell Martin that I wanted to go to the Plaza de Mayo to see Las Madres again because I was leaving in a week and it was a nice day. I hadn't finished the homework for him because I didn't understand it, and neither did Hernan, and he hasn't returned the homework I went to give him last week when I was sick and traveled to school just to turn in, so I am feeling kind of pissed off at him right now. But actually I was more pissed off after today's class.

So when I went to the bathroom, I passed my old classroom, where level 6 is. The classroom has a big window to the hallway and I saw that Martin was standing in front of the class talking. I went and used the restroom and was fantasizing that because Claudia was sick (she was supposed to be teaching level 6 today), that Martin was teaching her class and we had Marcela. When I came out of the bathroom, I looked in the classroom again and saw Nancy sitting there looking quite dazed.

I went over the classroom, and looked in through the door and Nancy saw me and motioned for me to enter. I did. Big mistake.

There were maybe 6 students in the class. Nancy was the only one from our class - the others were from level 6. I sat against the wall near the door, which was a little far away from everyone else. Martin told me to move over to where they were, but it was really crowded and I told him there were many people, so I didn't move. It's a good thing I didn't because as more and more people showed up, the room got quite full. At the peak, there were 12 students, and there may have been 15 desks. So it's not like I was sitting really far away from everyone.

I felt like Martin was picking on me. I think he called on me because mine was the only name he remembered, but he was also picking on me and I was getting really pissed off and started fantasizing about getting up and storming out.

First he asked me a question about some verb tense. He had told us we were going to review the subjunctive but started by first reviewing the indicative (which is anything that is not subjunctive). He put the tenses that are used in the indicative on the board (this is the first time he's used the board when teaching us) and just spoke non-stop. Every now and then he'd ask someone a question, and it was almost always me. Finally I asked him why he kept calling on me. I forget what he said, but it was really bugging me. I held my notebook in front of my face and said, "I'm not here, I'm invisible."

When Cynthia came, she was sitting on the other side of the room facing me. She looked bored, and I was so bored I was ready to scream. I was sitting there looking at Martin, who is short and very thin and has this big head of curly hair. His legs were so thin and he was wearing these big sneakers that seemed too big for his feet. When he turned sideways he looked quite odd with this big head of curly hair, this rail thin body and these big shoes on his feet. I drew a picture of him to keep myself from going nuts, but then scribbled over it because the way he was acting I was afraid he would come over and look at my notebook. I looked at Cynthia and she was looking like she was falling asleep and she made eye contact with me and we both smiled and Martin said, "Ricardo, what's up?" (in Spanish of course) and I said, nothing. And he said, why are you smiling? And I said, because I am happy to be sitting across from Cynthia. He then mentioned that my face was red - of course it was, he kept picking on me and I was embarrassed - but I told him I didn't sleep well last night and was tired, which was partly the truth. The real truth was that I had had enough of his intellectual/revolutionary teaching style, which was not revolutionary at all, unless revolutionary means ignoring all current pedagogy in language teaching and returning to a style of teaching that was used in the Middle Ages!

And for the next most ungodly boring hour I have ever spent in my life, he continued lecturing us on these verb tenses and every now and then would say, "Ricardo?" I tried looking interested, I tried looking bored, I tried not looking, but he still continued to call on me and I was really getting pissed off. Even when I was taking notes to keep myself from falling asleep, he'd call on me - I think he thought I was writing something else. It was worse than I remember my worst experiences with the nuns in Catholic school. I was thinking that I was going to leave today and also not go to his class next Tuesday or Thursday. I really understood what it felt like for a student to feel like the teacher had it in for them. This little shit is 12 years younger than me and he was treating me like I was a child!

Unfortunately, one of the Brazilian girls in the class said she liked his explanations! I could have killed her. He was very happy to hear that. She said that it was helpful to hear the explanations of why we use these different tenses and moods. Ugh! Now he's going to do this even more!

Of course, no one would say how bad it is for a language class of 12 students to sit for an hour and not interact at all with each other in the target language. In my opinion, if a teacher needs to take an hour to explain something, it is either too much, or it is stuff the students already know and is a waste of time. This was both.

Finally, he reached the end of his lecture and gave us an assignment and said we could work with a partner (yeah, finally, some interaction!!!!!). The 12 of us had been sitting there for an entire hour with our mouths shut except when he asked a question and someone had to demonstrate their knowledge of verb tenses (usually me). Finally, we were going to have a chance to interact.

But first he had to explain what we were going to do, which took another 15 minutes.

We had to write a short mystery. He outlined the steps we had to take - first setting the scene, then adding more information, then a dialog, etc. This is the same assignment he gave to us when he substituted for Fernanda when I was in level 6 and no one ever collected (and I had done it). It was a stupid exercise and I was pissed because again, this was not something that was going to help me interact with people on the street or understand people better. Obviously, the instruction here is focused on Spanish for academic purposes, but how many of us are planning on going to a university? It is a classic case of curriculum not meeting students' needs.

My partner was this cute Brazilian guy and he wasn't as obviously pissed off as I was. If he was bored, he probably just thought that was how school was supposed to be. We worked together nicely, I wrote while he dictated the story in a kind of Portuguese-Spanish, which I cleaned up and made pure Spanish. It turned out to be a good story, even though it was a horrible class. We only had 15 minutes to work on it.

Finally, the break arrived. Martin disappeared like a bat out of hell, I'm not sure why, but I didn't have time to tell him I wanted to go see the Madres. Instead I told Nancy and she decided to go with me. I was glad because if I had left on my own, I think Martin would have made it seem like I was a bad student, and Nancy, who was sitting there as bored as I was, but not revealing it on her face, would have continued to be the angelicly perfect student. Now she's just as bad as me.

We walked down the Avenida de Mayo. Nancy walked really fast and I ran to keep up with her. What is it with these people who walk so fast?!! I hardly had time to look up at the buildings. She said she liked that she could walk fast here because everybody walks fast. I pointed out to her that we were passing everyone on the sidewalk and that we had plenty of time. She still walked fast and I ran to keep up with her.

We got there early (because of the fast walking) and the madres were there with a table where they were selling books - at 3:30, they got their big banner and started marching. We watched, took a few pictures and then joined their march. After about 20 minutes of that, Nancy said she was going home.

I walked back up Avenida de Mayo with her and stopped in a store called "Paseo de la Resistencia", which was a kind of alternative artisan fair. Hippie-looking people made all kinds of things for sale. I got a few souvenirs to take home as gifts. Nancy didn't stay long and went home.

I'm now back in my nice clean apartment. It feels like summer outside, but I am really tired from staying up late last night and a really stressful class and all that walking, so I am taking a siesta.

zzzzzzzz