I got kicked out of Spanish School

I got kicked out of my Spanish school today. Very bizarre. The first time I’ve been expelled from a school and I can safely say I didn’t see it coming. It had nothing to do with indecent exposure or unprovoked cruelty. I was the victim, yet painted with the brush of the villain. I feel like a fool.

I enrolled in Spanish school for the beginner group lessons of 4hr classes each day. I was excited. I figured 20hr/wk at $100 was a great deal, especially because my group, including me, totaled 3. Good student-teacher ratio and all that. I figured I was on the right course to learning.

I was. Then I was blindsided by the illogical truck of South American business mentality. Ok, that’s a sweeping statement and not even remotely fair, but its safe to say that customer service is not a priority down here. Restaurant proprietors feel entitled for you to serve them with your patronage. Taxi drivers wince to offer change. Spanish schools try to gouge their students with registration fees and small print.

Last Thursday, one of the girls in my class announced she wasn’t going to return for a second week. Rather she was going to continue on her travels. As a result, the school manager would have to rearrange our schedule.

 Now, this timetable jockeying manager is a seemingly nice America girl in the most bland way possible. She strikes me as the bandcamp type who never emerged from her shell until she moved beyond her parents grasp. Now that she’s living in BA and fluent in Spanish, she exudes an air of supremacy, but in a confused hermaphrodidic way. Having the genitals of both sexes isn’t something to boast about.

 Regardless, last Friday she mentioned class would change from 4hrs/day to 2hrs/day, but the cost would remain the same. I failed to follow her logic, so decided to ask how that was possible. She replied that 2 students comprised a ‘semi-private’ lesson and that meant only 2hrs/day.

 Ok, but surely there would be certain concessions made. I mean if we divide the lesson hours in half, then the cost should change, right? No.

I was confused how that made any practical sense. More so, I was confused how she didn’t budge an empathetic inch. Rather, she deadpanned me with a look that could only be interpreted as a patronizing ‘I have the genitals of both man and woman.’

 Now, I’m not super familiar with such looks, but I quickly found out I’m not very recpeptive to them either. However, what really bothered me was getting fleeced while being made to feel like the villain. 

I decided it would be best to write an email to the school’s director and ask for some clarity. I think it was clear, stern and honest without being too pointed. The result was incredible. The director interpreted it as a personal blow. She felt I was attacking her school and employees. She claimed to hold the right to admit or expel students. Seeing that she didn’t appreciate my tone she would refund my money for the second week and see to it I didn’t return to the school.

 Well here’s the issue. I wasn’t as concerned about the money as I was about being short changed for something out of my control: the number of students enrolled in my class. I felt cheated. Now I felt cheated and screwed for I would have to search for another school, pay an additional registration fee and most importantly re-establish a relationship with another teacher. 

I decided to go to the school early today to discuss the situation. The response was anything but welcome. Hermaphrodite spotted me on entrance, grunted hello, turned her back and walked into her office. I followed and took a seat at her desk. She quickly pulled out a $100 bill and passed it towards me. I told her I didn’t have the intention of leaving the school; I intended on continuing with my lessons. Afterall, it was Monday morning, twenty minutes before my class was to start and more to the point, all Spanish schools start their new registrations on Monday’s. I was unable to find a new school over the weekend as they were closed. I certainly wouldn’t be able to find one on a Monday willing to let me start that day.

Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine as she tried to maintain a face of authority. She called the Director, spoke in Spanish, exchanged pleasantries, hung up and said there was nothing she could do. The director had spoken. Ha! What a joke.

A paying customer is nothing. She merely wanted to wield her conductor’s wand and call the shots. She was avenging her teenage angst.

I hope she steps in dog poo.