French Class

Picture me as David Sedaris. Once when i was a young fair maiden of 18 i took a english class and we read a piece by Sedaris titled "Me talk pretty one day". The piece was about his experience in a French class where the teacher was verbally abusing them in French, and how through all of the verbal abuse he finally came to understand the language. Amidst all this he was comforted all year by his friends in the class even though neither of them spoke the same language and so consoled themselves in broken french. Well this has been my French semester, i took the class as a second stab at the language trying to get over the trauma of taking a quacking bitch in high school, (i swear she quacked) anyway the class is so fantastic. My teacher,for reference, does not verbally abuse any of us, in fact she makes the class a very nice enviorment and she promotes a unity of sorts, its sort of the english niche but created in one semester as opposed to two years of taking the same classes. Well what can i say except i had never known the beauty of having a class i look forward to going to everyday, the language is beautiful and low and behold i understand it. however its more than that, its being able to socialize and communicate somewhat and then laugh at our half assed attempts. you get to know people after seeing them four days a week, and i feel like i fit. its a wonderful learning enviorment i wish would be like math but alas, there are only so many good things right?