I love the language, I hate the class. Because she spends time earlier in the day teaching middle schoolers, the best we can really hope for from the profesora is that she will treat us like high schoolers. At this point, the course is basically the same as it was in high school - come to think of it, it's simpler. No homework. (That part, I do not mind so much)
Giggly Freshman Girls #1 and #2 are not helping much, either.
There is, however, a nice cynical guy named Kevin who sits in front of me when he bothers to attend class, and he is interesting. Ex:
Kevin: "So, we're supposed to give them the answers they want, rather than think for ourselves and offer answers that are correct?"
Me: "*gasp!* Think for ourselves? HEAVENS, no! We're Spanish 1 students! We can barely walk upright!"
But there is a lab I need to go to after class, for a quiz grade. Meh. So it's off I go to stare at a wall and mumble the days of the week and months of the year.