Necesitas hablar mas

It's my second week of class and all the students disappear except for me and Antonio. The good news is that I now have private grammar lessons, the bad news is that I'm put in conversation class with Antonio. My nemesis. The corrector. The kid who has called me fat and accused me of not working hard enough. Great.
I argue that I shouldn't be in class with Antonio because he's too advanced for me, but the teacher Juan insists that conversation class is for all levels.
I give it my best shot and at first, it seems like all is well.
We play a game in which Antonio and take turns describing movies while the other person guesses the title. I stump Antonio with Spiderman and he describes this Korean movie about a giant fish monster that captures a girl and pulls her down to his underwater lair. I'm really getting into it. I make a buzzer sound and try to guess the title even before Antonio puts the multiple choice options on the board: "Giant fish!"
We soon determine that Antonio's monster is not really a giant fish but a giant salamander. Antonio is being kind of quiet and boring about it, so I push him with all kinds of questions. "Is the girl a little girl or a teenager?" I ask. "Does the giant salamander have hands?" I ask.  "Is he a salamander with a heart of gold, or is he just evil?"
I'm really having fun. I'm just wishing that Antonio would talk more, and play a little. This is why I am astonished when Juan stops talking and gives me a serious, steady stare. "Molly, come on, you need to talk more," he says.
What? If anyone needs to talk more, it's Antonio. It doesn't help that Juan and I have had that initial "Don't tell anyone you're from Arizona" conversation. Is that what all this is really about? Is he just being a dick to me because I'm from Arizona? I'm already speaking three times as much as Antonio and I'm supposed to speak even more. What does he want? For me to do ALL the talking?
"You really need to talk more," he says again.
I feel trapped in an unfair judgment. I feel unseen. Hasn't he seen all this talking I've been doing? Rage flows through my body as I glare at Juan. I have a certain violent urge that I fight to control. Despite all my cultural confusion, even I know it's not kosher to choke your Spanish instructor.
I stare at my notebook and try to cool down.
Juan says, "Okay, let's switch the topic to stereotypes. What are the stereotypes about Mexico and Mexicans?"
Oh great. The guy who thinks I am an Arizona bigot is asking me to identify Mexican stereotypes. Never mind that true Arizona bigots pass laws to make sure everyone around them speaks English so that they never have to take a Spanish class in their lives.
I feel trapped. If I put forth some negative stereotype it's going to sound like I believe it. Even positive stereotypes sound ridiculous. What would I say? That Mexican families have more fun? What the hell am I going to say?
"That's a dangerous question," I say.
"No, it's not," Juan says. "Come on, we're all friends here."