My life is full of so many awkward moments.
Spanish class today:
My professor calls on me. Every time he says El as in “es el blah blah blah,” I jump, thinking he’s saying “Elle,” and calling on me. So when he actually calls on me, I think he’s just speaking some more gibberish and zone it out. Strike one.
“Ellen, quien es tu actor favorito?,” he says.
“Mi actriz favorita es Zooey Deschanel,” I reply.
“De donde eres Zooey Deschanel (or something along that lines),” he asks.
Mind blank. Yesterday I could have answered this question this fine. At this very moment, however, I have no idea what he’s asking me. When I finally realize the question, I realize that I have no idea where she is from. All I can seem to say is “I don’t know.” Strike two.
He continues to interrogate me, each time the questions getting harder and harder. Normally I wouldn’t choke under pressure, but I don’t understand a bit of what he is saying and everyone in the class is staring at me. My face turns beat red, which I’m sure looked fantastic against my pink striped shirt. Someone in the class whispers “she’s so red,” making the situation even worse. My professor moves on to someone else and I bury my face in my hands. Everyone is still giggling at my cherry colored face. Strike three.
I know that by tomorrow no one will remember this incident, nor will they care, yet I still want to hide in the shadows for the remainder of today.