This post is intended as a means of quelling any fears that I may have dropped off the face of the Earth. Indeed, I am very much staring the Earth's face down. I haven't yet posted because I've been waiting for my video for the next post to upload. Maybe you think, "Oh gee whiz. Why don't you just put it up without?" TRUST ME. You will adore me for this video. Unfortunately, though, I usually have to leave the kitchen/internet when it says that I have about 176 minutes left for my upload. I've just started uploading now, and it says I've got 269 minutes left. As much as I LOVE the number 69, I am heartily disappointed to see it in this context.
I will give you some interactions I've had lately.
After a class I gave where I basically described myself, Muriel (one of the teachers) came up to me in the teacher's lounge.
Muriel: When you said you liked Pineapple on your pizza, the boy--he's quite fat--sitting next to me said, "Ah! Hawaiian!"
Me: ............. (I have nothing to say because I don't know how to respond to discussions about weight that are blatantly insulting. See previous post about doctor's comments. Also, she was talking about Jonathan!)
Update: YouTube now says I have 281 minutes left. IS THIS REAL LIFE?
In my Terminale STG class.
Me: So what did you all do over vacation?
Célia: Sex!
Update: YouTube now says I have 270 minutes left. I did not stop writing for 11 minutes. Nor did it take me 11 minutes to write the above dialogue.
In my Euro class in which we are discussing gender as something you learn.
Me: In fairy tales, who is usually rescued?
Students: ..................
Me: For example, in Rapunzel, who is saved?
Marie: They don't know Rapunzel.
Me: Ack. Uhhh. In Snow White, who is saved?
Marie: That one works.
Laura: The princess.
Me: What about in Sleeping Beauty?
Léo: The prince.
Me & Marie: You're right. So that one doesn't work.
Me: Oh wait. You're wrong. That does work.
Update: YouTube now says I have 357 minutes left.
Me: Marc, what have you been doing in Bordeaux all of these weekends?
Marc: Well, you can guess what I've been doing.
Me: ............... (Either he is referring to getting drunk or having sex. Neither of which is something I want to guess.)
Me: ............... (At this point I'm fairly certain my face has gone through about 357 faces as I'm trying to figure out what to say back.
Marc: I've got someone there.
Me: ................. (Still nothing to say because I only recently found out that he broke up with girlfriend. And the only things I could think to say were, "Well, I guess you had a reason to break up, after all" or "Well, that was fast." Neither felt right.)
Me: Oh, Charlène. I wanted to ask you. Do you know the band Phoenix?
Charlène: Who?
Me: Phoenix. It's a band. Kind of alternative/indie rock, I guess.
Charlène: I don't know anything about music. Anaïs is really into it, though. You should ask her when we see you tomorrow.
Next day......
Me: So, I wanted to ask you about Phoenix. They're a French band. But they sing in English.
Anaïs: Are they techno?
Me: No. Have you heard of Phoenix?
Anaïs: Is that a kind of music?
(I directed her to find them on YouTube.)
Now time for some things I've learned recently.
The word bouton means button, pimple, and spot. Thank you, Charlène.
I was sitting in the teacher's computer lounge on a day when no one showed up for my 4 p.m. class. I was waiting around because Nicole had told me that there would be a galette des rois (a traditional cake that you will hear more about when I put up the right posts. Wow. Getting behind is super inconvenient.) in the teacher's lounge at 5. So I was sitting on gchat talking to Jimmy. When I looked to my left, someone was sitting there and smiled at me. Since people who don't know me will often smile at me in the halls (or maybe I know them but I can't remember their names), I gave her a closed mouth smile as I do not value those as much as ones with teeth before going back to my "work." When I went to get something and came back I saw it was Marie and so I smiled again, but this time with teeth. She was working with some teacher on a website and it was all very rushed and it was with the teacher who wears Harry Potter glasses and pleather flooding pants, so I didn't know what was going on. Anyway, when the teacher went somewhere and left Marie, Marie kind of leaned towards me and asked very surreptitiously, "You speak French?" When I said yes, she responded really quickly in French, which I was not expecting so I didn't understand what she said. So then I just responded, "I don't speak as quickly as all that." I think I responded in French.
Then lady came back. When she left again, I turned to Marie and asked what she was working on. She was trying to navigate a website to apply to university because the future is coming. I told her that I was sure she'd be fine applying to schools. Teacher came back. Teacher left. I asked Marie what she had said before in French because Jimmy made me feel inadequate for not understanding. Marie responded, "Charlène told us that you could speak French but that you didn't want people to know because then we'd all speak to you in English." Guess the cat's out of the bag on that one. "Did you come here to improve your French?" Yep. "That's the best way isn't it? Immersion?" Yeah. But it's still difficult. "I'll bet." Teacher came back. Teacher left.
I turned to Marie and told her that my mom and Flo had said how good her English is. "Oh, it's nothing exceptional," Marie said. "English was my first language." I nodded as I looked back at my screen before realizing oh wait, that doesn't make any sense!
So then I turned back and asked, "Wait. Why?"
Bell rang. End of conversation. WHAT A CLIFF HANGER, RIGHT?
Luckily, the next day, after I saw her canoodling with her brown boyfriend (aka she's in a mixed relationship aka will anyone EVER be able to top her on my list of favorites? Probs not.), I ran into her in the hallway and asked why English was her first language. "Well, it's a long story," she said. "My mom is Slovenian and my dad is French. So when they first met, they had to speak English with each other." Maybe English really IS the language of love. "So when we were growing up, they taught us all English so that it would be less confusing." BaBOOM.
Recently I decided to do some Facebook work on some students, (I don't have a whole lot going on.) and I discovered that Marie is the sister of that kid who I had originally thought was an exchange student. His name is Jeffrey. On a related note, I went to one of Muriel's classes with her the other day and Jeffrey is in it. They're supposed to do presentations on themselves to put on this website that connects students throughout the EU. Muriel was saying how they'll work in groups and present who they are, what they like, and their activities. Jeffrey leaned over to one of his groupmates and said under his breath, "Sucking coooooock." It's nice to know that high school antics are the same regardless of location. Not that it matters, as I'm fairly certain that the joke went over his groupmates' heads. Pity.
So the Great Mystery of Masterful English Speakers in Belley is SOLVED!
I figured it was time to sort them out since I have less than 4 months left here.
This is the FINAL COUNTDOOOOOOOOWN,
Jess
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