In my Spanish class there is a large variety of different types of people. One man is a highway patrolman who speaks like he is telling you to STEP OUT OF THE CAR WITH YOUR HANDS UP.

Another guy plays baseball for the college. He sits behind me, and like most jocks, he tries to seem better than he really is.
Him: [nodding with air of superiority] Yeah, I was actually born in Spain.
Prof: Really? What part?
Him: An airforce base somewhere.
Me: [scoffs]
Prof: Ah.

Another guy is from New York City. He’s a die-hard Yankee’s fan, and dresses like he’s a member of the Mexican Mafia (NYC chapter, of course). I bet he drives a pimped out low-rider.

There is also another middle-aged man. I’m not sure why he is taking the class, but he doesn’t like speaking in front of people. The class is really small, and almost everyone speaks like a gringo, so I’m not sure what he is afraid of. Every time he is asked to say something, he becomes flustered and messes up.

The other day our class was assigned to write 20 sentences in Spanish using directional prepositions (i.e. over there, to the west, in the corner). Then our professor asked us to say one sentence out loud. I said, “David está a la izquierda de mi.” (David is to the left of me). When it came time for the flustered man to give an example he said, “Well, I didn’t really use the vocabulary that we were supposed to use, but here goes. El pajamas está–” The professor cut him off with an, “Um, no, that doesn’t really work. El pajamas?”

I love how we all try to gringo Spanish up in Arizona. A good example would be: El pajamas está el northo of me.