Night One of my Conversational Italian class.
I had a bet going with my mom that I would be ("by far") the youngest in the class. I walked into a class of senior citizens and pulled out my phone to text her when I realized that I was 10 minutes early anybody younger than me or even near my age would most certainly not come to class 10 minutes early. (This was out of character for me.) I, myself, consider within the first 5 minutes "early", the first 10 minutes "on-time" and then I stop counting cuz who admits that they are late? Not me. (Clearly.)
After the rest of the class showed, there may be 1 other girl that is around my age but I'm pretty sure that I have a free dinner coming to me in the near future.
So my teacher is nuts. (which I love. Love the characters!)
- Toe socks with (non-thong) sandals. Check.
- Raggamuffin hairdo that puts my little cousins RaggaMuffin Do after a hard day of 1st grade play to SHAME. Check.
- Thick rimmed blue glasses. Check.
She has a cat-earred headband that she wears sometimes too.
She has mad energy that is shooting out her hair (Read: RaggaMuffin Do) and talks a mile a minute stumbling over her words in excitement/"nervousness".
She has no kids, teaches kindergardners, another Italian class and jazzercise. Wow, right? Yes. But it's good because she's goofy and entertaining and if she can teach kindergarders to read than she can most certainly teach me Italian, right? (I'm optimistic.)