Touez-moi maintenant, s'il vous plaît

I don't want to go to French class. My teacher hates me. Or rather, she refuses to acknowledge my existence, which I almost find to be worse. I mean, she'll answer a question when I go right up to her and ask it, but she will never call on me even if I'm the only one waving my hand about. Except for this ONE TIME, when I ended up making a completely ridiculous grammatical mistake that elicited a groan from the entire class - one of the "how could you possibly be so stupid and not have swallowed your own tongue by now?" variety. That class has turned me into the painfully shy quiet foreign kid, with everyone else rattling on in smooth, easy French while I struggle to string together, "Which way to the nearest building tall enough to jump off of?"

Also my teacher seems to think my name is Sarah. She hands my papers back to me just fine ("Here you go, Ruth,") but when she calls on me (I guess it's happened a couple of times) or assigns us into groups she always calls me Sarah, to which I obviously don't respond, further adding to her notion that I am a complete and total idiot. And even when she is answering a question or being remotely helpful, the woman absolutely will not make eye contact with me. Which is great. Because, you know, I didn't feel like a fucking gorgon already, thanks.

This is all quite unfortunate because I really like my French teacher. She's a very funny woman and good at what she does (if you only take into account how she treats the rest of the class, which is very buddy-buddy). She's very open-minded and believes that there is usually more than one right answer. It would be a fantastic arrangement if she hadn't apparently taken some sort of vow to avoid admitting that I am a human being at all costs.

Musn't...sink...into...despair...

[Ed. Note: I didn't go to class today. I went downtown and bought some cloves instead. Ha.]