Episode 18: I once met a girl named María

Oooh my dander is up! Well, I think it's up. I'm not actually quite sure where my dander is, but I've not been able to cross my legs all day, so something's happening. It all started last Wednesday, but before I enlighten you, I feel the need to bring you up to speed with the happenings in my drab little life before we have all the really big news.

Despite being chased by a large busted
woman, I was able to see that at
€499, this was vastly overpriced

You may recall at the end of the last blog, I was due to sit Spanish exams on the following Monday & Tuesday after the christening party. Incidentally, about three nights after the christening, I dreamt that I was being chased through Ikea by a large lady with her bosoms out. (You will need to read the last episode to fully appreciate the relevance of this reference) These loose mammaries had little hands attached to them and I just knew that if she caught me, they would have strangled me. I ran for all I was worth and lost her somewhere in the soft furnishings, only for her to surface behind a rather overpriced chaise longue (€499) and begin the chase again. I woke up with a start and was so glad to see the lovely José half a mile away on the other side of the bed. I phoned him to let him know I was okay!

It means "tonight, I have not slept
well". Note the use of the verb HABER
in the first person singular, which
tells you it's the Pretérito Perfecto

So, back to the exams. We turned up on the Monday morning and were told that we would be doing both exams in one that morning. Deep joy! Some of us had spent the night before watching back to back episodes of "Mad Dogs" and the joys of the pretérito perfecto (it's a tense, love) were totally lost on us. You see, I don't do grammar. My grammar was the lovely lady I adored, married to my grandad and who passed away at the age of 83 in 1992. As far as I'm concerned, language has only one tense: normal! The normal tense is what I speak and that's the end of it. I've never worried about diphthongs or split infinitives or contractions or any of that malarky. I just speak the language and make myself understood. End of! Now, in this foreign land I'm surrounded by hundreds of new words like, adverb, pronoun, adjective and onomatopoeia. (I just chucked that last one in to see if you were still awake!)


Anyway, Ángel told us that's what we were doing and the exam got underway. I won't bore you with the questions, but when we went back the next day we got our marks and I passed with flying colours, in the high 80 per cents. I surprised even myself if it's any consolation, although now my mother-in-law knows that I have a certain degree of the language in my head, she talks to me even more. She delights in watching me squirm when I understand barely two words of her latest statement to me. I'm sure there's a streak of sadism in her. In fact, looking at the delightful crab plate she has on the table in the small lounge alongside the plastic flowers, I'd revise that and say it's more a hint of masochism, but once again I digress, as is my wont. 

Black and White

Glorious Technicolour,
but mainly Orange

Duly pleased with my marks, we had a week off school as this marked the end of our Basic 1 course, but it was an odd week. We finished on the Tuesday and weren't back to start Basic 2 until this Wednesday; eight days off in all. Why not Monday to Tuesday? Well, we're in Spain, so go figure! Ángel had told us that we would have a new teacher for our new course, but what he failed to mention was that she made Eva Braun look like Judith Chalmers. 

She turned up on that first Wednesday wearing the dogs blanket. It was a terrible knitted skirt affair and had loads of patchwork and detailing on it and looked just like it had come from Rover's bed (la cama de Rover!!). Coupled with this she was wearing some patent leather purple clompy boots. They looked like plastic and, well you know me, I'm not one to criticise others, but she looked like scrag end, pretending to be mutton dressed as lamb. 

By the end of the photoshoot, Gloria the sheep was begging to be put
out of her misery, having lost all her street cred.

She is called María, but then so are all the other women in Spain, so that was no surprise. When she first opened her mouth, the words just spilled out. And what words they were. Long words. Short words. But worst of all, Spanish words. Spanish words I didn't understand. After the end of each sentence she asked, "do you understand?". We all just sat in stunned silence, like we'd been slapped about with a wet haddock by a nineteen stone fisherman. She took this silence as agreement and carried on. Quite frankly, she could have told us that we were all going to hell in a handcart and we wouldn't have flinched. In fact, she wouldn't have been far wrong as the lessons have been anything but Heavenly.


On that first morning, she went through an exercise in which we revised the work we'd done with Ángel. We disagreed with her on one question, but she insisted she was right. We disagreed again, but she again insisted she was right. We soon learned that resistance is futile. She retreated to her worksheet to check the answer once more and we started talking to one another about how the answer should be and why. She got proper angry and started shouting at us to speak only in Spanish whilst we were in that classroom. The mini lecture that followed was akin to being spoken to like we were 5 years old and her sentence terminated with the line, "if you want to speak in your own language, then you can leave the class to go and do it". This was followed by a Death Ray stare that Superman would have been proud to own, but scared of should an enemy use it upon him. 

We shut up! Whilst resistance remained futile, several of us broke nervous wind. She reiterated; if we must speak in the class, it should only be in Spanish. I looked at Belinda next to me and whispered "zorra" (Bitch!). She giggled, but in Spanish so she was safe.


The rest of the lesson passed and Thursday's lesson improved a little. The dog had got his blanket back and this time she popped in to work in her pyjama bottoms, but oh boy, does this woman like the sound of her own voice. She would ask questions and when one person started with the answer, she would talk over them and say it herself. She got one answer wrong again (as clarified by the lovely José later - it's so handy living with a Spanish/English teacher!!) and I didn't feel that I was learning anything, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Then came Friday.

I'm not, for one moment, suggesting
that my friend looks like this when
she yawns. I'm too attached to my
cojones to do that!!

We went over the rest of the worksheet we'd not had time to complete the previous day and all was going sort of well, until one girl in the class yawned. Okay, it was not a quiet yawn but one that made a reasonably loud yawning noise, although to be fair to her, I don't think she realised she was doing it. María did. The Death Ray stare fixated on this poor girl. She was unaware and so was I; I hadn't even heard her yawn. I thought she was Death Raying the people in the row behind us as they were talking in their own language, but I was wrong. After about 20 seconds of the aforementioned 'Ray', she started on this girl. First she told her it was rude to yawn in class as she had done and then she mocked her and made this big loud yawning noise with her mouth wide open. Then she told her that here in Spain, not putting her hand in front of her mouth when she yawned was considered very bad manners. I suppose the constant spitting in the street and leaving dog crap all over the pavements isn't?? And I do mean ALL over the pavements!! My friend, suitably chastised, mumbled an apology and I packed my books away and left the class, mid-lesson. 


Who is this woman to treat adults in this way?? I know this issue isn't about me and didn't directly affect me, but it's bullying and intimidation and if she can do it to my lovely friend, she can do it to any of the group. I'm not putting up with it. Who on earth does she think she is and what gives her the right to do this? If José had mocked anyone in his lessons at school, he would have soon been in front of the Principal, and for anyone who is having dirty thoughts at that statement, wash your cerebral cortex out right now!! Plus, I've not really had a hissy fit since I came to Spain and I thought it was about time I refreshed my memory.


As I write this, the class is split. I do think that she is pushing us more than Ángel did and maybe that's no bad thing, although I personally felt I learned a lot with him. I'd certainly like to push her. Shame I moved from Beachy Head! There are people in the class who are going home at the end of lessons and reading the textbook in advance of the next lesson. In fairness to the friend who does this, she finds this helpful, so good for her. Personally, I'm aware that it's María's intimidation of the group that makes her want to do this..........just in case! Good grief, I've even started doing it myself; that's how desperate things are. 


I am going back to class on Monday and I'm not going to say anything about my exit unless she asks me, in which case I will tell her the truth, although I'm not quite sure how to say "you get on my tits" in Spanish and José won't tell me as he knows I will use it. As it stands, I've wiped the slate clean because I'm aware that once someone gets on the wrong side of me, it takes a lot to change my mind, so I have to do my best. I've got to try as I'm stuck in a country whose language I don't speak, so I'm kind of reliant on these lessons, but if she starts again, I'll tell her where to stick her verbal conjugations. 


There is a potential upside to this. While we may own a School of English, the Head Teacher is a Spaniard who can also teach Spanish. With so many people in my group telling me they don't like our new classroom dictator, I'm sure we can offer a discount to students who come in bulk to us. Find us at Calle de Juan Flórez or on several easy bus routes with the stop right outside our door as seen on our website, www.thenewschoolofenglish.com. Book early!

I don't believe I've mentioned the fact that we own a School of English in La Coruña.
Or have I???