Wednesday, September 11, 2013


As the fancy gym turns (a soap opera of epic proportions)
I started off the week on the wrong foot in more ways than one. I had prepared a lesson based on the fact that Giacomo had told me I would have these spheres (okay they are rhythmic gymnastics balls, but there are too many bad ball jokes and I can't bear it) to use for the lessons starting this week. Even after the shipment was ready he still has waited two days to go and get them from the store. I thought I could do the lesson plan I chose without them, but it turned out to be too hard for the newer students.





 Two of my very dramatic and well-to-do students who routinely clutch body parts and moan or stomp out or cry, but then always come back for some reason I am yet to comprehend, had a particularly negative energy about the difficulty level and went on strike in the middle of class which screwed up everyone's timing and was hard to manage. So on Monday after we got home from the hospital in Florence for T's check up and routine sonogram, I invented a new lesson. The appointment went really well and T is doing very well health wise. She has to drink a litre of water in order to do the sonogram and she had to fast for the blood test, plus survive the long car trip. The unfortunate  part was that the nurse in the diabetology department sent us to radiology instead of gynecology for the sonogram which ended up in wasting about two hours standing in lines uselessly, during which time she wasn't allowed to pee. If they had awards for bravery, T would have eleven hundred by now. Anyway, seven hours later, I drank a cappuccino and reinvented the class just in time. Then I taught it to a room that was twice as full as last week and satisfied all of the new students. My numbers were good the next day as well. I was starting to feel positive about things. That is always dangerous in a soap opera. It is too boring and it gets the writers nervous.

(I don't keep quiet when I'm wrong, let alone if I am right!)

So today, i taught the class and the famous Ginetta who has been the queen teacher for the last eighteen years old kept stamping in and out of the room moving things around during the last ten minutes of my class. Then when it was over precisely at the end of the hour on the dot, she came over to reprimand me. It seems that for the last six months I have taught longer lessons than anyone else as no one ever told me that a class of an ora and a class of an oretta are two different things. A little hour being a cute, non specific, way Italians have for saying that I should have finished after 50 minutes. I told her that I had always taught for 60 minutes, but I said excuse me and that it was fine. It SHOULD have ended there. But she had to persist in saying that she was sure that the powers that be had specified that rule to me from the beginning. After class, I went to Giacomo and asked him, and he said that he was sorry he had never made the rule clear to me from the beginning. It really pisses me off that La Ginetta was sure that I had worked overtime for six months just to screw her over today for no good reason. And now I have to work this party with her on Saturday night. My colleague Lisa tries as hard as she can to give me the silent treatment, as do Martin, Ricky and Sara. This is a relief to me because I had really thought I was crazy and that I had invented some paranoid fantasy of animosity where there was none for the past seven months, what with the team building meeting and the holding hands and singing folk songs and crying, but instead i find that I was RIGHT. Well, no shit, Sherlock. But still it is reassuring that my perceptions are actually based in reality, even if that means that they really do hate me. Sigh.

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