In Israel, I had a Hebrew teacher who was a doll. Sweet, friendly, a charming lady. I faced her delightful smiling self three times a week for Hebrew class.
I hated it. She couldn’t teach for nothing.
Honestly. At first, I thought it was me. I didn’t want to be one of those twits who always blame the bad teacher and not be responsible for being a bad, clueless student. I hate that excuse. Yet, here I was faced with this delightful woman who couldn’t teach me anything.
Yet, she was an elementary school teacher who taught Hebrew as a second (or eighth) language at night. She had all the teaching credentials, and years of experience, and I was totally ignorance in the language of the country I was living in. I was at her mercy.