Two More Months

This past weekend, I finished my abnormal psych telecourse from the summer semester.  Now I'm just down to my online math course (with various gobbledygook due on Wednesday and Saturday of each week) and The Dreaded Spanish Class.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, I head to school to sit through another "class," which is really a time for our professor to tell us what a cool teacher he is while getting so frustrated with the students that he - more often than not - sends us all home at least 30 minutes early, usually in the middle of a lecture that none of us are grasping.  Mm-hmm.  That helps a lot.

I feel like I'm at the end of my rope with this class.  I knew it would be different being taught by a native Spanish-speaker (my professor last semester is from this area and Spanish is her second language), but nothing could have prepared me for this.

I'm feeling overwhelmed with the amount of self-teaching we're required to do in this class, given that the instructor doesn't take the time to make sure we understand these things.

I'm feeling a lot of regret for ever having decided to take this class in the first place.

I'm feeling cheated.  Every single time he throws his hands up in the air and treats us like misbehaving elementary school students.

For crying out loud, I paid over $300 for this class.  The least he can do is remain in the classroom until our scheduled meeting times are over.

And lastly, I'm feeling repulsed.  Repulsed by the fact that this guy gets paid whether we learn or not, and that seems to be all that matters to him.

Two more months.  That's it, and then I'm done.  Two more months.