Oh em geez. Why do I love my students SO much? Ionno!
Today I got an email from Yoan, whom I've never mentioned before, but he's such a sweet boy and he wants to study architecture and he's left handed and just a gentle dove and I can't ever say enough to make you non-Belleysans understand... Anyway, he sent me an email today saying that he hopes I have a nice trip home and Mrs. Michaud gave out the cookies I made for his class on Monday and they were eaten in a matter of seconds and he hopes that I have good memories of France and my time in Belley and how he wanted to write the email in English but his level isn't yet perfect. FRICKIN' ADORBS.
Noémie offered to make me a new bracelet after I accidentally destroyed the one she gave me. (In blog post to come...) Then she said she's coming to class again tomorrow because she wants to see me and she'll miss me.
On Monday, my friend whom I have yet to introduce here (because I am hopelessly behind!) came to visit me and we ran into Favorite Marie outside of school at 4pm. We chatted until her bus came at 5. It's really interesting to talk to the students, especially when you basically don't have to worry about comprehension. Then we bisous-ed and said goodbye...FOREVER?
I went to dinner at Favorite Charlène's tonight. We also bisous-ed after she drove me back to the internat.
I think I might end up missing it here after all. But only the people. Someone Indian in the Cupboard them for me! (After a fashion, anyway.)
But things I won't miss about Belley. Conversations like this one that happened ages ago:
Nicole: Something about Kenya.
Me: Barack Obama's father is from Kenya.
Josiane (History teacher): Obama's Muslim, no?
Me: No.
During the trivia game last week:
Me: What is the state in which Barack Obama grew up?
Student 1: Texas
Student 2: Florida
3: Michigan
4: Alaska
5. New York
6: Oklahoma
7: Washington
Me: No. If it helps you, it's also the youngest state.
8: Massachusetts? Later in that same class...
Me: Which state is Sarah Palin from?
Romane: Alaska.
In the Premiere L I played Jeopardy with the kids for our last day. After Noémie and Faustine chose Pop Culture for 100, this went down.
Me: What country is Justin Bieber from?
Faustine: Los Angeles.
Good thing I'm not responsible for geography lessons! At the end of class, Romane and Faustine asked if they could come to class again next week. I told them we were playing the same game (because I see 1/2 the class each week) and they seemed practically giddy over it. So this is awesome. Except now I have to come up with new questions. Blurg. Anyone have question suggestions? Rhyme! (Later, Aurélie asked if she could come back as well. I hate being lovable/only having one activity that makes the kids say gimme gimme more gimme more.)
Also at the end of class, Noémie (remember the OS/original stalker?) gave me a bracelet that says "Jessica" so that I'll think of her. Sweet. Also, she's not a stalker anymore. Chick's got a bfriend and like mad friends now. So that's awesome. And it's all because I pushed her away?
While I was walking down the hallway yesterday, I was going through a cluster of my favorites (Terminale ES and Euro) and I heard my name being said in a whisper/real voice. So I turned and asked, "Yes?" It was Anaïs (not Charlène's bff). When I looked at her, she looked like she had been caught. Basically she was saying my name like I'm a celebrity. Overnight celebrity? Maybs more like 7 month celebrity. But who's counting?
Things that didn't happen yesterday:
Last time I did laundry, I discovered why it takes 4 hours to do one load. Because the woman who moves my clothes from washer to dryer puts like 4 things in the dryer at a time. TOPS! Frickin' ridiculous. Since then I've basically taken to drying things on my "balcony."
Remember that time Favorite Marie found out that I'm Irish? Well, later that week, I went to visit Nicole's class because the kids didn't feel like coming to me. Yes, la paresse/laziness is rewarded here. (Actually, it's because they were just so stressed about the practice exam that was 5 weeks away. At least, that's what Nicole said. Pity for me?) Anyway, they were learning about Northern Ireland (because apparently English classes here are plus ou moins obsessed with that topic and Nicole was trying to get them to figure out Irish immigration to the United States. Eventually someone nailed it on the head, and Nicole asked me about St. Patrick's Day celebrations, mentioning that they are big deals in Chicago and New York. I told her that they happen in other locations as well. (What up, St. Brendan School St. Patrick's Day Pageant of my childhood? There are a lot of capital letters in that sentence.) And I said how it's important in my family. Favorite Marie was looking at me with maybs like the biggest smile everrrr. And then Nicole nodded her acceptance of my answer and Marie turned to Favorite Charlène (who, side note, was dressed like a chicken for Carnevale) and excitedly informed her I'm Irish.
This can bring me to a slight tangent in which I let you know that French people are obsessed with origins. Probably because they're obsessed with stopping immigration. Because most outsiders (and you can probably guess which ones) are not welcome.
This week I had my last class with the first group I ever taught. Really sad stuff, y'all. But we took a photo together, so it was basically the greatest moment of my life. It's up on Facebook. I don't know the legality of reposting it here since they're minors.
Also this week I've been administering practice oral bac exams, which means that I spend hours listening to the students discuss a text and a document. Awesomely, for the group of 17 students, there's only 4 texts, so I can give you a super-detailed analysis of excerpts from Matilda, Jazz by Toni Morrison (Blues Man is the name of the excerpt), Gattaca (called "Human Possibilities"), and Having It All by Maeve Haran. Thankfully, I get to give them different visual documents to analyze. Still, though. It's exhausting to spend 2 hours listening to people talk without giving a response. Welp, I've only got 2 students left!
Yesterday I almost cried as I was handing out the superlative awards to my third to last group of Euro Students. I've been having my last classes for 3 weeks now. It's really sad. I've gotten way too attached to these kids in a way too short a time span. After my first last class with Chloé, Titouan, Lisa, Angela, and Anna, in which we talked about American high school and I gave them superlative awards and cupcakes, Chloé came up to me to tell me I was a great assistant and to thank be for the cupcakes because the cantine food is disgusting. I didn't think that Chloé had any particular fondness for me, so I was really touched. The next week, Lola won the best speech award (because I had them give fake graduation speeches, and the winner got a CD), and she emailed me that afternoon to say she liked most of the music on the CD and to say she liked the lessons we did. It's easy to see why people are teachers. So rewarding. But it also makes you into a bowl of emotional jelly.
Today I almost cried because my students were not cooperating at all and it was basically a waste of time. I considered sending them back to their teacher, but it seemed like such a waste since the hour was almost over. It's annoying (and often embarrassing) to feel like a group of high schoolers can get the best of you. Honestly, after 30 minutes with that group, I can't wait for my contract to be over. Can I be a teacher with only well-behaved students?
In other news, I recently saw Favorite Anaïs smoking, which made me judge her. I should mention that I have a lot of a respect for French people who don't smoke. It takes tremendous strength of character to "just say no" when everyone around you is smoking. They have a 20 minute break at 10 am and 4 pm, and the majority of students spend them en fumant (smoking). It's kind of ridiculous since you can't buy cigarettes if you're under 18 and nearly everyone at the lycée is in that category. But everyone just totally accepts it. Shame.
Yesterday wasn’t anything particularly special. The only things I have to report back are some boring teacher moments.
In the morning, Muriel actually used me in a semi-productive way and had me take half of her class to work on the Obama speech (the same one she had the year below doing just a month before, but I digress). This was the first time I was alone with any of the students in that group. I’m sure that what she had wanted me to do was what she does in her class, which is walk around correcting people the whole time. Not my swag, so I basically told them that I was there if they needed me but that I wouldn’t be reading over their shoulders the whole time because I didn’t think they needed a babysitter. They laughed and we became best friends and we all sat around braiding each others’ hair for the rest of the hour. Nah. But they did laugh.
It was my first time interacting with Favorite Marie’s brother, whom I had thought was the super well-adjusted exchange student. Rememberrrr? Anyway, towards the end of class, I told people I’d read over their work to make corrections if they wanted me to. Since his group was, naturally, first finished, I went over. I made a few editions (basically commas and spelling and correction of some faux amis/false cognates) and every time I said something he was like super nervous but in like a funny/happy way? So each time, I kept saying, “It’s okay. It’s really good.” So I had maybe had a false idea that he and his group of friends were basically like the group of boys in my class from 5th-8th grade who were kind of jerks but also teacher’s favorites, but I’ll admit I prolly misjudged. OR MAYBE I’VE BEEN DUPED LIKE THE REST OF THEM?
Later, in the break room during the récréation (recess) at 10am, I was standing around with Muriel and Marc just having a normal teacher talk. It was in English, in case you wanted to know. So Marc was all, “You’ve been baking again?”
And I said, “Not today. But I plan on doing some more tomorrow.”
“The Euro group told me you had brought in some cakes for them.”
Caught in the act! (Except not really caught because I had told him before that I was going to make them cupcakes. And he said, “You’re going to do it for all of them?” And I was all, “Nah, sucka. Just for my faves.” JOKES.) Anyway, the reason I’ve been bringing in 5 cupcakes a week is because I’ve started to have my last classes with the students. So it’s one last campaign to make them love America. As if they didn’t already after having me a whopping FOUR times this year. So I admitted that yes I was.
He said, “They’re special.”
And I said, “Yes. They are.”
And Muriel was all, “Who’s special?”
Marc said, “The Terminale Euro group.” (I think the conversation switched to French here.)
And Muriel goes, no joke, “C’était la meilleure année de ma vie.” (That was the best year of my life.)
I was all WHAAAAT. But out loud I just said, “Vraiment?” (Really?)
Muriel said yeah. They’re such a special group. Really smart yadda yadda yadda.
Then they started name-dropping their favorites. Muriel said that she used to call one of them “The Little Fox.” After reflecting for a bit, she realized that it was Léo, who comes with Favorite Marie, because he used to be so small. This is funny because it’s just super random. But also strange because she called a student a fox.
Then Marc said how he is a bit foxy. Which was hilarious to me. But he meant in terms of looks and not at all in the Jimi Hendrix way. Still.
Then Marc said how Hasma talks a lot. And I said it was good because I really like Hasma. But then he said that it’s good but that after a point she talks so much that the other students can get in a word edgewise. Given my experience with a lot of the students in that group, I couldn’t imagine that ever being a problem, but maybe he thought it was. Then it came out that Hasma had been selected to go to the US through either the US Embassy or the French Embassy a few years before as a candidate selected from like 400 applicants. Muriel said that Hasma sent her a postcard while she was in the US, which I thought was darling. Marc said that when she got back, she was a bit “self-sufficient.” But, I mean, she is. I don’t know. I’ve never seen any evidence of that in my classes with her. She’s actually really good as sharing the talking responsibility with her classmates soooooooo…..
Marc also said something about Léa and how smart she is. And I was like, “Welp, she never talks in my class, so I really wouldn’t know.”
He seemed genuinely shocked. I said that maybe she doesn’t talk because Favorite Marie talks so often.
Then they switched to talk about Favorite Marie and basically it was agreed that she’s brilliant.
Later, I had to go the Mariste for another thing with Muriel. I walked into a silent class. Basically some standardized testing going on. I was in the right room, though. So I went to the front and Muriel said they had finished the oral part already, and I could leave. But I thought that would be wrong since I’m supposed to work there 12 WHOLE hours a week (which nearly never happens because Muriel signed up to use me 3 times each week, but generally uses me only once). So I sat down and didn’t do anything for the whole hour except look around the room at the kids in test mode. I also made some notes:
1)In that group, there are 15 girls and 8 boys in the class.
2)There are 4 lefties in the class. (Is it just me, or does that seem high?)
I literally sat in the room for that hour and thought to myself, “Well, this is one hour of my life that I’m never getting back.” But, then again, every hour is one like that.
I never told you guys about that one time that I was having a discussion on femininity vs. masculinity in my Euro class. Each time I would ask for an example of a perfect woman. In one group I asked the question and do you want to know what one of the responses was? Paris Hilton. And that was the most pain that I've ever felt during a class period. The response was from Charlène. (Not the Charlène I tutor. Don't worry. She has more sense than that.) I physically struggled to put her name on the board. Luckily, the others in the class (namely favorite Marie) audibly groaned when that name was offered. Marie's response? Hillary Clinton.
I just went to the market to get some stuffs. While in the baking aisle, I was nasally accosted by some guy looking for chocolate. He legitimately smelled homeless. Then it occurred to me that that "eau de homeless" is that particular combination of cigs, (maybe booze), and no washing that a Frenchman would also be able to accomplish. (This is politically incorrect, but I hope that by now no one expects anything different from this blawg.)
Awarely,
Jess
The Wednesday after classes started back up in January, we had, you guessed it, another stage! Naturally, I was super excited to make the trip to get to Bourg-en-Bresse for 8am since it takes like minimum 2 hours to get there. But I got up and got to the bus and then to the train.
The waiting room was (SHOCK) open but my train went from the other side. So after I waited an hour after arriving with the bus, I went to the other side (which is always outside) to wait for the train. It was supposed to arrive at like 6:42 or something. At 6:46, the station operator came out and told us that the train was running late. No way, man! You’ve blown my mind. Luckily, it was only running 4 minutes late according to him. Interesting. Because there was no train pulling up as he shouted to us from across the tracks. In any event, within the next 5 minutes, the train pulled up and we all boarded. I set myself to thawing out.
After getting to Ambérieu, I made my transfer to the bus, which wasn’t cancelled! And that was thrilling! (Because since I was without credit card, if I needed to take a cab, it was gonna be pretty rough. Even though my mom had magnanimously wired me 200€. But still, I wasn’t rollin’ in the Benjamins anymore. (I have never been rollin’ in the Benjamins.) After I arrived at the Bourg gare, I started walking with my Google walking directions.
I turned right and gave a big ups to the place where I had gotten my naked X-Ray as I walked down the street. I was walking with a purpose and saw a group of 3 familiar looking people at the intersection up ahead. It was Mohsin, Heather, and Emily—some other assistants—also trying to use their Google directions to find the place: Rue Magenta. Thinking they knew where they were going (they didn’t), I started walking with them. The first thing I told them was that they were facing the wrong way—I was sure we needed to continue to the left. So we did. As soon as we turned around, we found Trudi, Katie, and Helen—the assistants who live in Bourg—also looking for Rue Magenta. Awesome.
The Bourg assistants were actually trying to scrape the frost off of a street map behind plexiglass casing. It wasn’t going well. So we just figured we’d walk with their Google directions. All of these directions were the same, mind you. There wasn’t any “Aha!” moment as we ran into each other. So we walked all the way down a street until we found a shop to ask for directions. The woman told us to go right at the second stoplight as we went back up the street we had just walked. So we did. Except the second streetlight was the intersection where I had found Heather, Mohsin, and Emily.
So we went back to the cased map and scraped until we could scrape no more. We realized we were right across the street from the street we needed. Naturally, the street name changed across the intersection, but there was no signage to note the name change. Makes sense, right? We wandered the backstreets until we found it.
When we walked in (about 45 minutes late), Livia, Stephanie (the other assistant in Belley), and some other girl were just sitting there waiting for us. As was Jacques, one of the coordinators at Livia’s high school in Bellegarde. He looked at us as we sheepishly walked in and said, “Vous êtes en retard.” (You’re late.) Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Mohsin had a more polite response: “On a été perdu.” (We were lost. This actually translates to “One was lost” because in French, you can use on to mean “one” or “I” or “we.” It’s weird. But means that you can get away with knowing less verb conjugations since on takes the same verb as il or elle.)
Then they started the presentation. It was basically the most useless presentation of all! It was an hour long discussion of eTwinning, which is this website that connects students in Europe. It’s a great idea. But for most of us as assistants, it was not useful at all considering we focus on oral things. Also, the lack of technology that many of us have in our schools (me included) would make it legitimately ludicrous for me to think that I could possibly plan a lesson around a website. But anyway, we sat through the discussion.
Later, Katelin arrived. (He did not tell her that she was late.) She said that there was a problem with the trains. As soon as she sat down, she revealed to me that she had just overslept. So I guess the problem was that the train didn’t have her on it. After the eTwinning guy left (and he had quite a mustache on him!), Jacques took over and asked for suggestions of ways to improve the Teaching Assistant Program. He broke us into groups to discuss and then report back with results. We did as we were told.
While in our groups, we basically all griped about common grievances and shared successful teaching strategies. When we came back, each group presented with, naturally, a lot of the same things coming up. Awesomely, though, every time that a group made a suggestion, Jacques basically said that the problem was our fault. So that was super helpful and left us all in a great mood. One idea that was suggested was that they move the stages from Bourg to Lyon or somewhere that’s more easily accessible for everyone. He basically said no because “the people who live the closest are always the latest.” Then he had the audacity to point to Stephanie and say that she works in Belley but that she had been able to arrive on time. This would have been a great point except Stephanie doesn’t live in Belley. She actually lives in Lyon and commutes to Belley every day. (Maybe now you’re all, “Dumb Jess! Why don’t you do that!?” The answer is that it’s way more expensive to have an apartment and commute every day. I’d also have to coordinate with teachers to come and pick me up from the train station every day. That just seemed like too much hair pulling. So here I am at the Internat.)
Blah blah blah more happened. The other girl who was there had a story similar to Stephanie’s in that she’s an Anerican student at uni in Lyon. Except she’s lived in France for so long that she has some kind of accent when she speaks English that makes her sound like a foreigner. Now, I recognize that when I speak I sound a bit affected, but if anything, there’s a little British in my American. This girl, though, people were whispering, “Where is she from?” while she was talking. Craycray!
Eventually, Jacques freed all of us from his pleasant grips, and we all deuced. Mohsin had plans to make it to the train straight away, but the rest of us headed out for some Thai food. Mohsin missed his train and met up with us after we’d finished. The food was so good. After lunch, Mohsin, Katelin, and Heather headed off. The rest of us decided to go for a wander around Bourg.
Inside the Concathédrale Notre-Dame-de-l'Annonciation de Bourg-en-Bresse
We stopped at the cathedral, which was pretty and built in the 1500s. It should be known that we went to the cathedral because I had said in our group email that I really wanted to go to there. That’s because I had been under the impression that this massive building with what looked like a golden roof was the cathedral. False, though. That’s actually the monastery that they told me was too far to go see with the amount of time left. Tant pis. So we went to look at the theatre after the cathedral, and then went to pet shop. Where they had some adorable dogs and crazy fish!
Light bright fish! (And my dumb hands' reflection!)
We still had time to kill, so we went for macarons. I only got one, and obvio I got the craziest flavor they had: avocado banana. It was strange, and I’m not sure who thought that those flavors needed to go together. But eat it, I did. Then we went to a phone store because Katie was having issues with her phone. It was basically like she had a posse. Tight. Also waste.
Afterwards, Emily and I headed back to the train station. Then, as always, back to Belley.
The following weekend, I stayed in Belley. Luckily, we had beautiful weather! I went to the market and got some tomatoes, cheese, lettuce, and concombres (cucumbers) to make a delightful salad that happened a few nights that week. I also went to the library to check out a movie: Beignets de tomates verts (Fried Green Tomatoes). While I was at the market, I ran into Marc who invited me to dinner chez lui since he was having some friends over. Excited to be considered a “friend” or even someone that could be presented to his friends without mortification, I accepted and went to buy wine like a good guest.
Then I went for a run. Never did I ever think that I would be running where I could hear/see chickens in people’s backyards. But life does funny things to/for people. Also, there are some crazy ass hills in Belley, so this was more of a “run when it’s flat and walk when it’s so steep you might die” kind of workout than a regular run kind of thing.
When I got back to my room, I saw a text from Marc saying that dinner wasn’t going to work. Naturally, I was crushed. So I responded that I hoped everything was okay and that maybe we could do it another time. He said yes but that he had broken up with his girlfriend during the break but that they were still living together, which made things really complicated. Whoa. WAY more of an explanation than I was expecting. So that was that. And I stayed in with Towanda and my salad.
It’s over!
Jess
Yesterday I got a note from Maud saying she wanted me to work with the Premier com class on the preterite. So then I looked up what that was an made up a lesson.
In the first activity, I had them ask yes or no questions about a made up story and I'd answer so that they could piece together the histoire (story). Basically, I'd just answer every 4th question with "no" and the rest with "yes." The first group didn't manage so well since they kept trying to figure out if it was Cendrillon, Shrek, or Raiponce. The second group, though, got this stellar interaction:
Alex: Was there a girl?
Me: Yes.
Houssam: Was she 16?
Me: Yes.
Houssam: Was she pretty?
Me: Yes.
Houssam: Did she have a number?
Me: No.
In the second activity, each person wrote 3 words on the board, and we wrote a story together. The second group's:
There was once a young girl who liked to run with her rabbit in New York City. But the rabbit was not beautiful and it had a secret: it was a red bird. But when she spoke with Houssam.... (and then the bell rang.)
Group 1:
There once was a girl in the mushroom who kissed a rabbit. The rabbit was born on a rainbow where he ate kebab. One day he ate the girl and she said, "O.M.G." A few minutes later, he invaded the chickens' world.
I don't know why they like rabbits so much.
Today I also went to Favorite Anaïs, Favorite Charlène, and Favorite Marie's dance final. They were doing it around the idea of the position of women in society today. So, obvio, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I was supposed to meet Charlène by the gym at 2:05 (after one of my courses) behind the gym and she'd show me exactly where the performances were. Well, I was a bit late because I ran into Hasma in the hallway and then I had to go back for my keys, but that't neither here nor there. I kind of hemmed and hawed outside for a bit because looking inside, it seemed like they were in the middle of watching a performance. Little did I know that I was looking at a completely different room. Anyway, some girl came out and told me that I could go inside. And so I did. Frank let me in and I followed him to the room. We removed our shoes and stealthily (we had come in during a group's dance) went to find seats. That dance (featuring Lison, Marine, not Favorite Charlène, and some of my other students) ended and then another went on before Favorites' dance. It wasn't exactly what I had expected based on Anaïs and Charlène's descriptions, but it was good. It reminded me of high school a lot. But everyone seemed to be very serious in a way that I think something like this at NDA would have been a bit jokey. Considering that each group had developed/choreographed their dances entirely without the help of their teacher, I expected smiles when they made mistakes. But not these kids.
After the dances ended, the teacher called everyone to sit on the floor in a circle since she was going to have each student give his/her opinion of the trimester that they had just dedicated to dance. It was a massive group, honestly. It's sometimes easy for me to forget how huge this school is since I usually work with 5-15 students. But the circle was giant! Anyway, they all scrambled to sit sur cercle and I was debating whether to peace out or not. But then the teacher was all, "Let's have comment elle s'appelle sit with us!" (comment elle s'appelle=what's her name)
I was flattered but also super dubious. But how could I continue to be that way when my Favorites started saying, "Jessica! Jessica! Come sit with us!" The most popular girl at the ball! So I made my way over and sat with Favorite Charlène. Huge smiles on her, Anaïs, and Marie's faces. In fact, when everyone started going around (and obvio saying the same thing), I sometimes caught Favorite Charlène just smiling at me. It was tender. Eventually my turn to speak came up. I was super confused and not sure if I was supposed to speak in French. So I just said in English, "I didn't actually take this class." Everyone laughed because I'm frickin' hysterical. But then they kept looking at me, so I said, "Am I seriously supposed to say something?" Favorites said yes, so I did. "I think it's good that you're taking dance. It's great to broaden your résumés and horizons. The performances that I saw were good. Lots of unexpected movements, which was really nice. Good job." I may have left out some more bumbling, but that was the jist.
The weather is getting to be much nicer here. Some rain today, but I certainly can't complain.
Punxsutawney Phil-y,
Jess
P.S. When we were figuring out how I'd get into the gym, Charlène texted me: "I will take you behind the gym." Funny only because of the innocent but absolutely out-of-context predatory meaning.
After I finished yesterday, I remember a charming interaction with my Première ES group during our discussion about food.
Me: What's the weirdest food you've ever eaten?
Students: ............
Me: I mean, for me, it's chicken's feet. (Shout out to AmyXu.)
Leslie: Jell-o.
Luca: Kit Kats with mint in them.
This is from a country where frogs' legs, snails, and duck liver are normal fare.
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
Alors, mom was meant to get in at 6pm on Thursday. As soon as I returned from my errands, I received a phone call from Flo telling me that since it was snowing so ridiculously, I ought to encourage mom to stay in Geneva for the night. When I went to the kitchen for the interwebs, I found an email from maman telling me that her flight from Amsterdam to Geneva had been delayed because they had to de-ice the plane. After I finished reading that one, I saw another email had just arrived from her saying she was getting her car and hitting the pavement (or the snow that was laying on top of the pavement). I immediately phoned her to tell her to try to stay in Geneva because even though I was dying to see her, I didn’t want her to get lost in the mess that is France in snow. She didn’t answer so I started to wait. A few hours passed when suddenly my phone started a-ringing and mom was at the Carrefour down the road! So I stayed on the phone with her and tried to give her directions as I put on my boots and coat to get downstairs for the greeting. Mom said she thought that she was outside as I was running down the stairs and as the tears started welling up in my eyes. She managed to find me. We were both crying when we hugged.
I got in the car and we started driving around to see where we could eat. As we drove, she told me the saga of her journey. Basically, it took Mom nearly an hour and a half (I think?) to get out of Geneva and into France. Then she got down to Chambéry somehow because there’s rarely adequate signage in this piece. Anyway, while down there, naturally everything was closed/closing. She saw a couple leaving a Carrefour down there and asked them for directions to Belley. Guy generously offered to lead her halfway to me. And that’s how it went down.
We managed to find a restaurant that still had lights on and so we roamed around looking for parking for a bit before mom wiggled into a spot with her oft-displayed parallel parking prowess. Into the Chinese restaurant we went. While mom took advantage of the toilet, I asked if they could accommodate two people, figuring it was easy peasy as there were empty tables and the place was essentially hopping. “Non,” the man said. Uh, okay.
So we went to the other restaurant that had been lit up but by the time we arrived there, it was also closed. So on we went to the brasserie next door to ask for some food. Nope. So we ended up getting two glasses of red wine. Not so good.
As we came to the roundabout right before my lycée/home, we drove around 2/3 times before deciding to go to McDonalds so we could at least eat something. (Don’t judge. The average lycéen/high school student will go to Macdo 3 times per week because it’s cool. This is an actual truth.) So we went to the drive through and ordered the special advertised on every window at the Macdo. They were out. How is this possible? So we got the other special. FYI, it wasn’t the American, which is a burger in a bagel. This is not American. But apparently bagels are decidedly so. So we took it back to the internat and had a picnic on the bed before going to sleep.
The next morning, Flo called bright and early about the luggage that was to be delivered (because oh, did I mention that the airline lost mom’s luggage?) but it was just after the company had called mom and we had decided to go pick it up at the airport on our way to Geneva. Mom and I ended up sleeping until about 10:30. I decided to give her the grand tour of Belley so’s we could be on the road by 11. HA. Jokes. (But not really.)
As soon as we got outside, it started snowing again. So I showed her the main roundabout in town (which was in front of the brasserie where we had had deux verres/two glasses), some of the historical buildings in town (including the birthplace of Brillat-Savarin), the female wolf that is the mascot(?) of Belley, the patisserie where I tutor, the fromagerie where we got some cheese to bring to Flo, the library (which was obvio not open), and the Cathedral. As expected, she loved the Cathedral. You know what I didn’t love? How cold it was in there. It’s called heating and it’s time they caught on. We saw a few more things (aka random old buildings) before finishing the tour.
"You have thick hair. Like a wolf"
Then we decided to hit the road to Geneva since we didn’t know how long it would take with snow and everything. We couldn’t decide which route to take to Flo’s: the small roads that seemed most direct, the big ones that would take longer but were more likely to be cleared, a made up route. At the last minute, we decided to live dangerously and go small routes based on directions Mom had printed off and my map-reading skills. It went swimmingly.
Sometimes I thought we was lost in Siberia!
We got to the airport and went in to claim the lost luggage.
Mom: Quelqu’un m’a téléphoné pour récuperer ma valise. (Someone called me to come get my suitcase.)
Guy: C’était pas moi qui vous a téléphoné. (It wasn’t me who called.) with a smirk. But then he went to get her bag.
Back out we went to use Flo’s directions to get to her house. For the most part, okay. When we got to the last turn, though, Flo had said to turn right by a fountain. There wasn’t one. When I felt like we had gone too far, I said we were supposed to turn. Huzzah! I was right. So we parked and got out. We looked at the fancy Christmas decorations all over the place: big wooden cutouts of Bethlehem and the Three Wise Men. Behind each set of decorations: a fountain.
We hemmed and hawed in the entryway of the auberge for a bit before someone asked what we were doing/what we wanted. We asked for Olivier, whom mom had thought she saw in a meeting in the dining room. But he was actually out, so they told us we could go up to the Martins’ apartment. We went up, first to our room, and mom unpacked the massive amount of things she had brought for me: fuzzy socks, normal socks, popcorn, letters from home (so lovely), Christmas presents, requested articles of clothing, Emergen-C, etc. Basically a bounty. We went across to the Martins’ apartment to see about some lunch as it was nearly 3pm now. But we felt a bit awkward about it, so we went down the road to a restaurant we had seen. Whooooooops. It was closed. Even though the lights were on. So we went back to the auberge and looked in the cupboards to see about making some cookies. Because when there’s no real food to be found, cookies usually come in handy. We couldn’t really find most of the ingredients that we needed and so we made a list. Then I went on the interwebs to see where there was a market nearby and off we went. While at the market, we picked up some apples for lunch.
We headed back and I set to making cookies straight away. By this time, Gregoire was home from school and was helping himself to some panettone. As I was finishing up, Olivier came upstairs with a glass of wine for mom and told us that we’d be meeting Flo at a skating rink nearby as she was having an outing with some friends, “Les Gamins.” Mom and I had actually been dreading going ice skating as its neither of our cup of tea, but we wanted to seem up for anything. So, Mom drove Olivier’s car with me, Antoine, and Greg inside and we headed to Coppet (not far) for fondue and skating.
When Mom and I arrived, we were thrust into speaking French as we sat down with Flo’s friends. (Flo wasn’t yet there.) We were seated next to Flo’s friend Mouna who has family in Los Angeles. She mentioned wanting to set me up on a friend date with a British girl who’s working/living in Geneva. Since I love British people and need all the friends I can get, I eagerly said yesplz!
Flo arrived and got in on the fondue action. She asked if we wanted to go skating and we said no thanks. And she was all, “Good. Me neither.” Saved!
Eventually, we headed home for some zzzs.
The next day (Saturday), mom and I slept quite late. After we had showered, Mom went outside to find a note from Flo saying that she had taken Antoine to get some shoes but that if we went downstairs, there was some breakfast waiting for us. So down we went and the waitress/hostess woman whose name currently escapes me showed us into the café and then brought us a basket of breads and a tray full of Olivier’s homemade jams: 2 kinds with quince, raspberry lemon, amaretto peach, nutella but richer, grapes and rum, orange, and a few others. So good. She also brought us a pot of tea. About 10 minutes after we had sat down, Flo returned and had a spot to eat with us.
When we had stuffed ourselves full enough, Flo said it was time to hit the road as she wanted to take us around a bit. So we hit the road and made a drive along Lave Geneva, stopping to take photos of the vineyards. At one point, Flo pointed out this little island in the lake that has a single tree on it. It was planted for the Queen of England. Sorry. But I forgot my camera in Belley. All these photos are courtesy of my mamita.
We wound our way along the vineyards and the coast to Montreux, a Swiss town known for its jazz festival. We got out and took some photos with the statue of Freddie Mercury, who considered Montreux a haven.
I swear I wasn't in agonizing pain even though this photo would suggest otherwise.
We made our way along the waterfront Christmas market while sipping on some Christmas tea with a rum floater. Gotta get warm somehow, right? So anyway, part of this Christmas market was waay expensive out of my league. Like, they were selling these fancy knives that I’ve never heard of, antiques, jewelry, antique jewelry, and the like! It really just goes to show just how right Kawai’s boyfriend Greg was when he said, “The Swiss are just like the French but with more class.” I have yet to see anything that suggests otherwise. Oh wait. Except Swiss people are nonstop friendly.
Anywho, we went into this covered section of the Christmas market where Mom and Flo got some vin chaud (which is delicious and not to be confused with mulled wine, which is not) and some pretzels. I, on the other hand, had this thing with goat cheese. Noms and warm. Can’t get mad at it. Flo also bought a hat.
Flo in hat. Mom with first vin chaud EVAAARR!!
We chatted for a bit and then crossed the street to get to even more of the Christmas markets. They crazy for this mess over herre. But it’s really a nice tradition. It’s surprising Amurrica ain’t jumped on that bandwagon. There’s money to be made. The cold is no excuse. Did you see the snow going on? (Though we actually had lovely weather on Saturday.)
Looks different in the dark and in
the winter. Use your imagination.
We took a walk along the lake back to the car where we then zoomed over to Lavey-les-Bains. Hot springs! In the snow! In the mountains! It was crazy. Well anyway, so we looked for parking for a bit before finding a spot. We went inside and got a token so we could get a locker. Then we each waited for a changing room, which is where the transition is made. We went through. I was all modest slash completely confused so when I came out I was wearing socks, my coat, and my swimsuit. Surely I looked a mess. And I felt idiot too when I noticed that there was a constant floor cleaning machine being driven around. So my socks were wet. Upon seeing me, Flo laughed. So did momz. Whatevs so they had already put their stuff in a locker. I found one too. Guess what the number was. 696969696969696969!!!! It was a great day for locker-finding. Mom even made a joke about how it’d be easy to remember. (69 will never stop being funny. Thank you, Bert.)
We went into the next room and rinsed off before going into the first big pool. You started off inside and then went through refrigeration plastic like they have at Smart & Final/supermarkets where they can add more from the back and then go out into the real world. It’s a rough transition, but it’s gorgeous to be in the water looking up at the mountains all around. So we used the jets there for a bit before we moved onto the next outdoor pool that was even larger and supposedly warmer. (I am doubtful still.) We went in the water than kind of pushed you around in a circle and I went for a foolish little jog in it. We eventually extracted ourselves from the current and went to lay on the jetbeds they have. Interesting. But also made me more susceptible to the biting cold. No dice. We went to the “hot tub” part of the outside area. Nice until some fools started splashing. Don’t wet my face, foolz! On we went to these huge faucets they had. Mom leaned against one for the pressure until dude next to her got too close to his and started spraying his water all over the place. Most importantly, all over my hair and face. There goes staying warm. Because, guess what, wet hair + cold air = disaster. So then we goes inside because indoor pools are always nice. Eventually we go to the hamam. Now, if anyone knows anything about me, it’s that I didn’t apply to UC San Diego because it smelled like the zoo (read eucalyptus). This hamam smelled like eucalyptus too. But it was done right. What can I say? So we stood in the middle for a bit waiting for a space to sit. I forgot to mention that it was crazy crowded the whole time we were there. We eventually peaced and went exploring a bit to see what other treats the place holds. We went into this steam room. Nakeds inside! No peeling allowed. Mom and Flo didn’t notice everyone in there was nakey. Welp.
We decided it was time to get going and rinsed off and hopped in the car to get back to Flo’s where her sister Marion was waiting for us. We went to another Christmas market. This one was in a château at Coppet. Coldest place yet. Without a doubt! We were literally walking on ice the whole time. I can’t believe that people actually work at these little huts and stay there ALL DAY. I would die. I can barely even last for more than an hour. I blame poor circulation.
We then went for some grub with Flo’s friend who had met us there. It was in this space that is usually a greenhouse, but for this weekend it was a restaurant that offered 3 dishes: moules et frites (mussels and fries), choucrout (Alsatian specialty of many meats), and one other thing that they were out of. Moules it was! Also had some wine because that’s just real.
The next day we slept in pretty late again. (Theme!) When we got up, we had some toast with jam. Maybe this seems repetitive to you. Too bad. Those jams are MY jam. baBOOM! Anyway, we also had soft boiled eggs. A meal that I have come to associate with Flo. They are delicious. I also cracked mine incorrectly and spilled the yolk. Great day. The weather outside was frightful so we stayed inside. I made cupcakes with Antoine while Mom and Flo cut cloth for the foie gras that Olivier sells during the holidays. The measurements were incredibly precise and it really took them ages to finish it all. Then I helped Antoine with his English homework because oh wait, that’s my JOB. Many cupcakes were eaten. Not by me per se. But by Antoine and Greg. And Greg’s friend Axel. Because did you know that cupcakes are uniquely American? Imagine your life without cupcakes. Is there light? Do people smile? Probs not. Anyway, when the Martins paid us a visit in the US, we had cupcakes all the time because Greg and Antoine had grown to love them because their Canadian au pair would make them.
So many dynamos! (Dynamos means casks in this case.)
We then went to take a tour of Olivier’s alcohol making cellar? I don’t really know what to call it. But it’s this room in the basement of the auberge where he keeps the casks of the rums and things that he makes. They smell beautiful. He told us the backstories and everything but it’s all very complicated and I generally don’t understand how things are made. Anyway, blahblahblah it smelled good. We then went back to the apartment to kill some time before dinner, which Olivier was cooking.
IT WAS A MASTERPIECE. Here is the menu.
Design done for Olivier's restaurant.
Menu written specifically so I could reference it in the blawg.
Course 1: Terrine de lapin aux sdets (?) et pistaches / Rabbit terrine with something and pistachios
Course 2: Tartare de chevreuil aux airelles / saladine aux noix (Venison tartare with cranberries / nut salad)
Course 3: Emulsion de foie gras de canard / intrusion de poivre Serawetz (Duck foie gras emulsion / Serawetz pepper?)
Course 4: Oeuf de poule en cocotte aux truffes de Bourgogne (Chicken egg in hen with Burgundy truffles)
Course 5: Boudin de volaille vapeur aux chataignes / Mousseline d'Agrie et jardinet de légumes (Poultry blood sausage steamed with chestnuts / essentially mashed potatoes and small garden of vegetables)
Course 6: de "Mojito" récomposé (Recomposed Mojito)
Course 7: Crème brûlée à l'"Or des Anges" (translation not required. Or des Anges is the liquor that Olivier makes.)
He wrote the menu and then told this nice story about Picasso. He said, did you see I gave you my signature? We nodded. Apparently one time Picasso went to a café and the owner was there. Oh, Picasso, I love you. Blahblahblah as people are wont to do. And owner goes, "Give me a painting and your meal is on the house." Picasso obliges because he's too legit to quit. He hands the owner a painting. Owner's all, "Buddy. Where's your signature?" Picasso replies, "You said you'd give me a free meal. Not the restaurant." ZING!
To bed then. Next morning we set off around 9:30 since I have class at 12:00. We made it back and washed up a bit before getting to the teachers' lounge a few moments before class started. Mom and Flo met Marc. Marc, of course, complimented mom on her French.
We then went to my Euro class. Mom and Flo went to sit in the back. I said to my students, “As you can see, we have some visitors today. Can anyone guess who they are?”
Marie, one of the best English speakers, said, “Inspectors?” I laughed and told her no and that they could relax. And she said, “No. You can relax.” Zing!
Mom called from the back, “Can you guess where we’re from?”
Eventually they guessed Los Angeles, and Marie whispered to Lia, “Is Los Angeles in Las Vegas?” Well. We can’t be good at everything. They figured out she was my mom. Surprised looks to be sure.
Then they had to guess where Flo was from. US? Canada? Belgium? Eventually got Switzerland. Well done.
After class, the three of us went to lunch and had some traditional Belleysanne fare. And massive salads. Flo hadn’t seen the cathedral so we took her to see it. And to see the library. It wasn’t open. I don’t know why I continue to mention that, as it is more likely to be closed than open. We kind of rushed around a bit as I had class again at 3. Flo and Mom dropped me off in front of the internat. It was a rushed goodbye and I couldn’t shed too many tears as I was about to go run a class.
It was really a beautiful visit. But just way too short.
Day two of teaching was lovely. (As was the sunrise, which I saw. But maybe you don't want to see anymore photos of my window view of Belley? Even though it's better than your view. There. I said it.) By the by, the name of this town, Belley, is pronounced like in rock climbing: belay. When I was at girl scout camp, one of the few things I remember learning is "On belay?" "Belay on."
So, got to work and was a bit concerned that I was late because I didn't see the usual hordes of students milling about outside. Everything was really quiet. So, I went inside and Sandra said we'd go to the class but maybe there wouldn't be anyone there so we might discuss the Larry Clark art exhibit, which is the first to be censored in France. Riot! Anyway, there were three kids in the class, so I obviously didn't take any of them with me. Sandra left me to talk to them briefly, and I gave them my introduction spiel and then they told me their names: Anaïs, Tomas, and Coralie. Once Sandra got back, she asked them what they learned about me. Then we spent the whole hour talking about things to do in Lyon, things to do in Los Angeles, and the differences between France and America.
You might be wondering why no one was in school yesterday. It's because they were striking. In protest of France raising the age of retirement from 60 to 62 and changing the age at which the French become eligible for their pensions. (You can read more here.) A lot of the students were participating. Nicole told me during the break that two years ago they were protesting and they blocked the school so that people couldn't get in. (Illegal, by the way.) When I asked her what it was for, she said she couldn't remember. Imagine there being so many strikes that you can't remember which one kept you from getting to work. Sabine later told me that it was something to do with education and that some students had actually slept in the school. From what I understand from Sandra, it might have been the reform that made teachers' first years be filled with regular course loads instead of starting with just a few and observing until the second year when they have full schedules. Still, though, not sure.
Sandra said that she would have been out en grève (striking), and that she had been earlier, but that she had to finish the project that she was doing with the students. At least, that's what she told them. It seems like maybe she's substituting for someone? Unclear. Anyway, she asked the three students why they weren't outside, and they gave responses. Coralie said that she doesn't think that striking really does anything. Anaïs said that she thinks lessons are too important to miss. Tomas's reponse, though, was my favorite, "I agree with Coralie. Besides, it's too cold." Which it totes was.
I then went to my second lesson with Nicole's students. She sent me with two girls, Charlène and Anaïs, to help them practice their oral presentations of documents for their exams at the end of the year. Down we went to an absolutely massive empty classroom. They each had a cartoon to prepare and then give a ten minute discussion of each. After giving them 15 minutes to write, Charlène went first. She had a cartoon of Martin Luther King Jr. on TV giving his famous speech (the caption) and with a boy watching it. On the back of the boy's shirt, it read "Barack." Unfortunately, Charlène couldn't read the back of the boy's shirt. And when I asked her if she knew who Martin Luther the King was, she didn't. So, I kind of had to summarize all of what MLK means into one sentence. Not easy. Anaïs's was on the generation gap and technology: a joke about driving to a blog. Both were good, but only about 5 minutes each. So then we talked about ways to improve for next time. When I asked if they had any questions, Charlène excitedly said, "For you?" So I told them that if they wanted to, they could ask me questions.
They wanted to know the usual junk. Why I was there. What I do. I said, "I teach here." They asked, "You don't go to the movies or anything?" Then I realized they were asking about my social life. Which, at this moment, is kind of limited. They kind of smiled and said, "It's pretty boring, right?" I asked them about what they want to do as both girls are in términale, which means they're essentially high school seniors. Charlène wants to study human resources and Anaïs wants to go to school to improve her English and German and then go to business school. How nice to have a future planned out. During the upcoming vacations, Charlène is going to live with a host family in England and take classes to improve her English for the bac (basically the French SAT) and Anaïs is planning on working on her German. They work hard for the money.
After that, I went back to the teacher's lounge to get my coat and bounce since I had a break before my last lesson with Sabine, which I went to. But to which no students showed up. The teacher's lounge is kind of a terrifying place for me since I know hardly any of the teachers and never know if someone's going to speak to me in English or in French. Luckily, this time, Marc sat down and asked me (in English) if Kirsty was gone yet. (More about this in the next paragraph.) I said she was leaving later and that I was really scared that I'd become this total recluse and hate my year here because, oh yeah, when Marc picked me up from the train station two weeks ago he told me about the assistant from two years ago (Lee/Leigh?) who was very sad all the time and didn't get out much. Then he said that I'd be okay. "She seemed really scared of everything. She was also Scottish." Maybe there's something in Loch Ness!? (besides the monster, obvio.) Then he said like three times, "You're not like her." Which was nice of him to say because oh triste, Marc is the closest thing I have to a friend right now. (Not that there's anything wrong with Marc. He's actually very nice and I'm hoping to infiltrate his friend network. I think I already have. I ran into Séb yesterday and he recognized me! Baby steps, yo.)
So, in reference to my previous mention of the abandonment, as I'm going into the building, I see Kirsty and her mom coming out with Kirsty's suitcase. That's because I didn't tell you guys that at training last week she told me that she was 80% sure that she was going to quit the program. Because I was hoping that the 20% of her that was still going for the gusto (and being reasonable) would win out. Welp, wrong again! She's gone now.
