Eat, Pray, Love

Italians), is going way too fast, skipping over whole chapters of the textbook, saying, “You
already know this, you already know that.. .” and keeping up a rapid-fire conversation with
my apparently fluent classmates. My stomach is gripped in horror and I’m gasping for air and
praying he won’t call on me. Just as soon as the break comes, I run out of that classroom on
wobbling legs and I scurry all the way over to the administrative office almost in tears, where I
beg in very clear English if they could please move me down to a Level One class. And so
they do. And now I am here.
This teacher is plump and speaks slowly. This is much better.
Eat, Pray, Love