I Don't need no Skool

This week I went to a mortgage class. I was only two days, but totaled 16 hours. It was a small group, but despite the size, it had the components of pretty much every classroom.
There were just seven of us, but there was a know-it-all with the constant urge to help the instructor and thereby show off what she knew.
The was the idiot that had to have everything over-explained and over-simplified before she could get the simplest of points. Funny thing is that this person was a teacher for 15 years.
Then there was the antagonizer who disagreed with everything that was said including the sum of a few numbers.
There was a teacher's pet who was there to help with everything imaginable and be the apple of the instructors eyes.
And lastly, there was me. The shy one who never talked. It's not that I'm shy, it's just that I didn't like being there.
And now about the instructor: The guy was born and raised in LA. Both his parents are mexican and he looks like he crossed the border last week. The dude seems to be proud of not speaking spanish and even brags about how his white friend has to translate for him when somebody says something in spanish. What an idiot. I'd be embarrassed if I were him. I'm proud to be fluent in two languages, and wouldn't want it any other way.