There is an old joke that a man dies and goes to Hell. Once there, he sees everyone standing around, waist-deep in, um, poop, drinking lattes. He decides, "Okay, this isn't so bad. Sure it smells, but it could be worse."
And then a bell rings, and a voice says:
"Break's over. Back on your heads!"
I sort of have that feeling about Estonian.
During our second week, our teacher had to go back to Estonia to take care of some family business. In her place, we got our regular substitute.
Our substitute is wonderful. She is sweet and kind, much like a kindergarden teacher. That is probably because, in her regular life, she actually IS a kindergarden teacher.
Our regular teacher comes back tomorrow.
For no particular reason, she intimidates me. I don't know her well enough be be intimidated, and everyone EVERYONE says she is a great teacher. That she is particularly good at explaining the grammar. Which we need. Because Estonian has five billion cases. And is HARD!
I know she is just what we need...now that we have been lulled into a false sense of security and confidence by our sweet substitute.
But I admit I am nervous.
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