Language classes set their own tone, and ours is undeniably one of extreme goofiness. This is quite a blessing when you're sitting with the same 3 people 5 hours a day for 44 weeks with no break: if you're not feeling entertained, then you're basically participating in a Jean-Paul Sartre play. Comic relief is the best defense against existential language despair.
I like our teacher. She's the only person I've ever met whose cheeks move independently of one another when she talks. I find myself getting distracted by her face even as my notebook fills up with random Arabic words I'll never review. Today I dutifully copied down the words for 'red', 'black', 'white'... Some brave soul (not me) ventured "How do you say 'blue'?" The teacher's eyes narrowed. "Oh, so now you want to know 'blue'. Next you'll want to know 'purple' and then 'yellow' and then 'orange' and then you'll want to know ALL the meanings of ALL the words." The four of us exchanged conspiritorial glances. She was on to us. The teacher held firm. "You take 'red'; you're not ready for 'blue'."