I honestly sat down in that high school classroom intending to do my best at learning Spanish. Instead, within minutes, I'd walked out of the class with her yelling at me to sit back down. I went directly to the principal's office reporting the teacher. The school investigated, canceled the class and fired the teacher that very morning. Never got another chance at learning Spanish in school.

The rest of the story: This was General Douglas MacArthur HS in Levittown, NY in 1976. A significant number of us were informed that due to an error by a Guidance Counselor we had not been informed of the requirement to take two years of a foreign language. The school had arranged a number of language teachers to hold special classes for our final year, and let us graduate with only a year's worth.

I had zero interest in this and said so. But they were insistent. I asked for the easiest language to learn. My guess is the guidance counselor looked at what seats needed filling the most and said "French is the easiest language for an English speaker to learn".

So, being ignorant and unsuspecting of his lie, I signed up for French class.

First day of French class this very friendly, easy going fellow who is to teach us French comes in and welcomes us. The first thing he says is how proud he is that we want to learn French because, of the languages the school offers, it is the most difficult language for an English speaker to learn.

The most difficult!?

So then he goes around the room asking us why we want to learn French? Most kids haven't much to say, a few simply say that the guidance counselor told them it would be easy, and others laugh.

To be fair, a few were in earnest about learning French. Mainly the girls.

So I'm the last kid he asks and I politely tell him I've no interest in French, I've been tricked and lied to. I'll cause no trouble but I'm just going to sit in the back, ignore the class and red my Guns & Ammo and Field & Stream magazines.

A couple of days later myself and some other kids were removed from French class. But it ain't over.

I soon find myself assigned to a Spanish language class. The guidance counselor warns me this is the last chance for me to graduate and not to do what I did in the French class.

So okay there I am in the Spanish class, sitting front and center. The teacher walks in with a stack of folders and slams them down loud on her desk. She orders us all out into the hallway, no talking, and wait for our name to be called. One by one students are called in and directed to a specific seat. When we were all seated she explained.

Oh, by "directed" I mean she walked down the aisle, pointed to a student desk and said "SIT!"

She stated she'd gone over all our files and knew everything about us. She then indicates the center rows of seats and tells us that these are the good students, well worth her time and she looked forward to teaching them.

Wow, um, okay.

Next, she indicates the students arrayed next to the door to the hallway. She says you students she is unsure of, may be a waste of her time but she's willing to give them a chance.

More wow...

Then she indicates the students in rows by the window side. She repeats she's read our files and we "...aren't worth my time". We are to sit quietly, not disturb the students who are there to learn. We can look out the window but all she wants out of us is our name and date on the top of our test sheets.

Well, I've been made to sit in the furthest seat back by the window and I'm pissed. Pissed off about being lied to. Pissed off over being punished for their mistakes. And, as an "A" student with zero disciplinary history, damned insulted.

I stand up and walk out as she screams at me to sit down. I walk directly to the front office and ask to see the principal. They make me explain why. I have to tell it several times.

Other students are fetched and questioned. My story holds up. All the kids are removed from the class. By chance I got to see that teacher walking out to her car with her load of folders. Never saw her again.

That was the end of my Spanish language education.

Which, years later in Punta Arenas Chile, while working for the United States Antarctic Program, would have been quite a useful language to know.

So.... bummer.