Pissed Off As Hell Every Thursday

And the reason is our weekly French class, or rather - our teacher Marc Peter. He looks like a crazy professor: grey curly hair flowing around his scalp, big moustache in the middle of a reddish face, little glasses and no eyebrows. And crazy he drives me indeed I must say. From the first lesson we had with him he labeled me in his head to be a hopelessly stupid person. I assume the touchstone was the way I look, there's no other explanation. And of course because I don't talk a lot (that's the old French mentality - if they don't speak French, their definitely stupid!) He is also quite eager trying to make me see how stupid I am by asking me if I understood about every simple word (things like poire or satire etc) and then starting talking about something way too difficult for me (the future tense for example) as if it was the most natural knowledge imaginable.
He is a great fan of the Oriental countries, which means that he is very much into Xian-Yan and hearing stories from her, anything she says about her homeland is pure gold to him and every week he finds some Chinese topics to discuss. The last class was all about some famous Chinese mountains and famous Chinese photographer who took pictures of the mountains. Finally we also got to something completely different - the traditional Japanese (also very popular in China, of course) haiku. We were reading some of them and Mr Peter gladly explained Anna the basics and meanings of haiku (of course she didn't know! And he simply loves to show off with his superior knowledge). Since I am so dumb, he felt that he must try and MAKE me talk in order to teach me something, so he asked me to tell about one of the poems. It was something about peeling a pear and watching the juice on the knife. I was really pissed off because he was forcing me to talk and even worse - talk about something as pointless as that. So I said: "Why?" letting him know what I thought of his fascinating topic. Then he proposed I could at least tell about something else - my vacation. That was better, I started talking how I went to Germany and what was cool in Berlin... And then his great "look at me I'm smart and you're not"-ego burst out, he interrupted me and gave us a long monologue on probably everything he knows about Berlin. That did it for me: first he teases me by asking "did you understand?" (me and not Keiko who probably didn't), then he makes me do unreachably difficult grammar exercises (me and not the smart Germans who can), forces me to talk about stupid pointless shit and on the top of all interrupts me when I finally do try to talk.
So after all that crap I just sit and sulk in his class, look out of the window and don't even bother although I know I should. When he asks me to do something, my brain gets jammed and I'm not able to think any more so I say I can't although I could if I would concentrate. But I can't. Even if I try to take myself together and think, disregarding the fact that my brain is half-paralyzed because on one side I feel his unnerving pressure and on the other side the impatience of smarter Germans. Mostly they don't arrive to wait until I get it right. So - if he asks me to talk I usually say nothing and Marvin answers for me. He really knows how to work it with my nerves too - I feel like crying and screaming and running out of the room every time he forces me into something. I feel like kicking his "face" with my iron boots every time he asks if I understood something so obviously simple... It's like a horrifying school déjà vu and he is a mixture of all the teachers I ever disliked!
All my motivation to learn French has gone down the drain. I hate him and his class; the fact that I am unable to learn anything there nor skip it.

Marilyn Manson "Fight Song"