Prétérit

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.

Q & A

Just came from the Euro group.

Me:  Next time we meet, we're going to have a contest.  What do you want the prize to be?
Pauline: Sweets.
Baptiste: Money.

At least he's honest.  But, srsly, folks.  There's going to be a contest for these kids and I can't decide what to give them.  Since I have 9 blank CDs, I plan on making them prizes.  But I can't decide on what to put on them.

Options:
1) Songs about America
2) Songs from high school
3) Songs from college (since they're all--I think--going to university next year.)

Another thought is that I make all of the CDs and assign them numbers and then it's kind of a grab bag for which they win.  Thoughts?  But then I'd need to come up with 2 more themes.  OR WOULD I?

Overdramatically,
Jess

P.S. This time, for realz, give your response in the comments section.

bumMERDE

Have post about last weekend, but photos won't go up....  FORGIVE ME.

Sunday will have to suffice!

L'Hiver becomes L'Enfer: That Time Europe Turned Against Me (Part 1)

“The time has come,” the walrus said, “to talk of other things.  Of shoes, of ships, of ceiling wax, of cabbages.  And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings.  Calloo callay!  No work today!  We’re cabbages and kings.”  And then the walrus said it was time for me to FINALLY tell you about my Christmas break extravaganza.  Also known as my Christmas break shitshow.  Pardon my French (that word is not French.  And I actually don’t understand that saying.), but after you’ve read this post, you will well understand why it’s called a “shitshow.”

            After my classes ended on Thursday, December 16, I hurried to my room to finish packing for the upcoming 2 weeks in which I would be going to Barcelona for 4 days, Strasbourg for 2 nights, Brussels for 2 nights, Strasbourg for 6 nights, and Paris for 2 nights before heading back to Belley and back to the daily grind.  Having heard time and time again from Jennifer how glorious Barcelona is and had also read a post by one of my friends that mentioned how superior the city is.  So I was pretty excited to be getting out of dodge.  

            I was also particularly happy to be leaving on Thursday as a massive snowstorm was expected to begin on Friday.  I was nearly patting myself on the back for scheduling a flight that would leave early enough for me to miss the snow.  Too soon.  So, anyway, I got on the bus and train no problem.  It was crazy crowded on the train, though.  Considering it was about 2pm on a Thursday.  But anyway, at Bellegarde (where the train breaks into Évian-les-Bains, Genève, and one other place), it emptied out, and I got a seat to myself.  I also kind of passed out because Jennifer had called me at 6am to ask me if I could please check in for her online since she missed her tram, which would mean that she’d miss her train to the airport, which would mean she might end up missing the check-in window.  Because I’m so giving, I obliged.  Sadly, though, since I had class at 8am, I couldn’t fall back asleep.  Anyway, I got off the train and wandered around the supermarket in the Geneva airport for a bit before finding a snack (wasabi peanuts) to keep me occupied for the 2 hours before my flight’s check in would open.  Because, of course, the timing of every form of transport in my life is such that nothing is convenient. 

            So I read some Frankenstein (stolen from the English cupboard at the lycée) and ate my peanuts until it was 5:00 and time for me to check in.  I was the eighth person to check in for my flight.  I went straight to the waiting area and started doing what the area is for.  My flight was meant to take off at 7-ish.  They didn’t make any announcements.  Around 7:30, they updated the screen to say that more information would be available at 8:15.  Great.  So I got a sandwich for dinner.  It was a poor substitute for real paella, but whatevs.

            At 8:30, they put up a departure gate so everyone started lining up before there were even employees there.  Again, too soon.  About 20 minutes later, they announced that the flight had been cancelled.  Spectacular.  I joined in the exodus and got on my phone to Flo (well, first to Antoine to whom I explained the situation and then he said, “Uh.  Here’s my mom.”) and told her what the dealio was and she said that of course I could stay chez eux (at their house).  Because, obvio, I couldn’t get back to Belley.  (Did you know that the last bus to Belley leaves at 6:30 from the train station?  On weekends, the last bus back is at 1:30.)  So I was waiting and emailing my dear mom all the while and she asked me about refunds.  In my state, I had kind of decided to side-step the issue and file a claim later.  She told me I better get my toosh in that line.  So I did.  As I walked up, the clerks were explaining that all EasyJet flights to Barcelona were full for both Friday and Saturday but that Sunday was still an option.  That seemed like a waste to me since I would be leaving Barcelona on Monday.  In the end, I just went (cut!  Quite Frenchly.) to the front of the line and asked for the piece of paper that I had missed receiving.  They gave me the wrong one so I asked some guy if I could peep his and I made a mental note of where to go online and then went in search of Flo.  We quickly found each other and went back to the auberge.

            Flo’s sister, Marionne, was there as she had decided to not go home due what with the snow having already arrived.  (Note that when EasyJet cancelled the flight, no one actually gave a reason.  When I went outside, I was actually surprised to see that it was snowing.)  Anywho, Flo and I looked online for alternatives for me to get to Barcelona.  We found a sleeper train that would leave around midnight the following night (Friday) that would get me into Barcelona at 10am on Saturday.  It would be long, but fun to be asleep on a train.  Unfortunately, they didn’t have the price online, so we decided I’d call the next day while Flo was at work.  If it wasn’t too much money, I’d just get a ticket for that.  Otherwise, I’d just stay with the Martins until Monday when I’d get on a train to meet up with Jen in Basel before we’d go to Strasbourg ensemble (together). 

            The next day, everyone headed off to school and work while I stayed in bed reading Frank for a bit.  (That book is racist, but that’s neither here nor there.  It also was, frankly, not very well written.  I have a lot to say about this.  Want to start a book club where we bash celebrated works?  We’ll start with Frank.)  When I got up, I had some cereal.  I decided to try and kick it child (aka Maryse and/or Camille) style and have some cereal clearly intended for children.  That was a mistake.  It was the chocolatiest cereal I’ve ever had.  It was like cocoa puffs (a favorite that is a bonus cereal because it is also really good dry) but with chocolate bit inside.  I was a bit overwhelmed.  So I helped myself to some bread and Olivier’s jams.  I’m getting old (and European?) in my old age. 

            I went upstairs and hemmed and hawed for a bit before making the call.  She said it was 140€ and that seemed like a decent price for a last minute international train ticket with a reclining chair.  So I gave her my name and had her put a ticket on hold for me.  Then I called Flo and asked if she could please pick up the ticket for me.  Pas de problème, she told me.  So then I had the day to kill.  It was snowing intermittently, so I was nervous about leaving the house and being trapped in a snowdrift because, as you can tell from reading this blog, that would actually be my luck.  So I stayed in, watched some Gossip Girl (you know you love me), read, and enjoyed the company of Snoopy.  

She was totally into our hanging out all day.

           Also, Olivier made me lunch!  Fish and rice.  Before you scoff, remember he won an award for his fish preparation!  BaBOOM.

Please let me live over a restaurant forever.

            Eventually, Antoine and Greg came home from school.  Much later, Antoine and I had some dinner (chicken and rice.  Which reminds me of the rhyme my mom would always say, “Chicken and rice is very nice but when I want my favorite dish, I ask for fish.  Foo yatchy catchy, want some seafood, mama.”  The end.).  We then watched this TV show that’s France’s version of Come Dine with Me, Un diner presque parfait.  As we watched, Antoine turned to me and said, “We still have some brown sugar and chocolate.”  And I responded with a side-eyed okaaaaay.  Then he told me it was time to make cookies.  What could I do? 

            Flo came home to freshly baked cookies.  We enjoyed some cookies and telly until about 10:45 when Flo said we should make moves to get to Coppet where I’d take a train to the main Geneva train station.  After a bit of a Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride (it was icy!  And Flo was distracted by talking to me!), we got out at Coppet and Flo waited with me while I bought my ticket.  We waited outside at Platform 1 because that’s the side Flo told me from which the train usually departs.  But then, all of the sudden, the displays said that the train was to leave from Platform 2.  So we went over and had a chat with some other displaced travelers.  But then as the train started to pull up to Platform 1 and as the display changed AGAIN, I lightly sprinted back to Platform 1 with Flo behind me telling me to “Hurry, girl!”  And hurry I did.  Got on the train and dozed until we arrived at Genève Cornavin.  The train from Coppet had been a few minutes en retard (late), so I booked it to the Barcelona-bound train.

            I asked the man where my seat was.  Oh wait!  Everything is in Spanish now.  So I was helpless.  Whatevs.  I figured it out.  So I went to the last train and was in the second to last recliner seat.  (I recognized some people from my failed flight attempt on the train.  Great minds, my friends.)  Since the train hadn’t yet left, I decided I’d stay awake until the train departed so that I could sleep for as much of the 10 hours as possible.  Well, then it was 12 (aka 17 minutes after the train was meant to be pulling out), one of the lady who was working the train (like a hooker works a corner?) came around and collected passports so that we wouldn’t have to be awakened when we reached the border.  Someone asked when we’d be leaving and she said it’d be 15 more minutes.  So I made it until 12:15 and then crashed. 

            I woke up around 1 or something and noticed there was light coming into the train from under the curtain.  That’s weird, says me to myself, so I pulled back the curtain.  It wasn’t so weird when I saw that we were still at the Geneva train station.  Merr.  So I went back to sleep.  I woke up maybe 2-3 more times and each time saw the light creeping through the curtains.  I was scared each time as I pulled the cloth back for what would meet my eyes.  Always the train station.  Great.  Around 4:50, the same woman came back and told us that we’d be switching to a bus and gave us all of our passports.  Again, no actual reason we wouldn’t be taking the train.  We’d be switching to buses in 15 minutes.

            The best part of this was that when another passenger (British) asked about getting refunds or at least SOME of our money back (since obvio a bus≠train in terms of price.  If we had wanted the “luxury” of a coach bus, that’s what we’d have bought a ticket for!), she said, “I don’t know.  You have to ask.”  Well, you tell me, lady running the train, who are we to ask?  So that was great.  About 30 minutes later, we were let off of the train and were put on the buses.  I’d say we left the Geneva train station at 6:30.  So that was great.  Losing those 6 ½ hours of travel time.  Do you think they tried to fix the train for 6 ½ hours?  Or that they actually knew the train wouldn’t work but waited until a bus service was open to take us the 10 hour bus ride to Barcelona?  (Debate in the comments section.) 

Getting on the bus was a little out of control.  And by “a little,” I mean “way too.”  So I managed to get on after they let on loads of others and took a seat by the window.  A larger man sat next to me, but as anyone who has ever traveled with me knows, it didn’t matter once I was in my seat.  I just proceeded to go to sleep.

Who knows how many hours later we made our first rest stop.  I followed half the group and went to the restroom.  Mistake.

Actual toilet.

Then I went OUTSIDE to wash my hands in the cold stream of water.  Did I mention it’s December?  Chouettes!  So I proceeded to go where the other half of the travelers had gone, which was a café/gift shop.  What do you know?  There were restrooms in there.  I bet they even had real toilets.  Oh well.  So I got a muffin [in italics for French pronunciation: moof-eh (nasal eh or ah.  Really no corollary in English)] and water.  I was about to get back on the bus but then realized that I needed to get that toilet shot for you.  So I did and then I got back on the bus.

We stopped another time, the guy next to me ate a whole bag of chocolate chip muffins (and did not once offer to share), we had 2 crying babies, then we had a baby that would say the same sound for 10 minutes at a time and he was the darling of the bus trip, Jennifer called me a few times, mom called me, I listened to some NPR podcasts because reading in a moving car/bus makes me carsick, etc. etc.  And then, around 5:30 on Saturday, I arrived in Barcelona. 

Stay tuned for a gloriously mild climate, an Austinian, the most international family you’ll ever meet, the Belgian Titanic, snow, Paris at New Years, and OH! So much more!

Hoping you’ll come back,

Jessica

Another Day, Another Grève

Grève today. So I didn't have any students for my 8am class. That's always fun, isn't it? (It's not.)  Yesterday at lunch, when I asked Cedric what the grève was for, he said, "Everything."  Everyone who goes into school knows it's kind of a joke.  It's a bit strange that schools honestly don't really care if the kids show up on grève days or not.  I think it's especially odd because they are always saying they're behind and the students have to pass these exams and everything so that they don't repeat (I think?  Am I making all of this up?) but oh well.  This grève is more important!(Actually ?, though.  I'm not sure.)
              I meant to write yesterday/Tuesday because Tuesday was such a great day.  It started off a bit shaky since as I was putting on my cardigan (was there ever a doubt?), I turned around and walked into the corner.  Don't worry.  It's just a small scar on the very top of my forehead.  Maybe even makes the moneymaker more moneymaking because of beauty in imperfections?  Time will tell.
           8am-9am:  I went to school and basically followed Muriel around as she corrected these presentations that the students are doing on themselves, Bugey (the region), and Belley.  It's to go on this website eTwinning that all the European Union countries seem to be on where they present themselves and everything.  It's an interesting idea to get students interested in learning about other places.  Is it effective?  Don't know.
           9am-10am: I went into the CDI (school library) to wait for Nicole to send me students to practice for the bac.  The librarian told me that she had arranged for another class to come.  She looked really surprised to see me there even though I have been using that room for the past 2-3 months.  But I digress.  I told her I'd just wait for my students and then we'd deuce it elsewhere.  So I set to reading Obama's victory speech for my 11am class when who should come in and say she's working with me but Marie.  (The MIXED French/Slovenian student in a MIXED relationship whose first language was English.)  So I tell her the sitch about room switching and we go into the teacher's lounge secret computer lab.  (It's not a real secret.)  Then she says, "I have to be honest.  I didn't bring a document."
          Perhaps prematurely overestimating her, I say, "OH my gosh."
          "Are you kidding?"  Alright.  Sarcasm came too soon.  I told her I'm always joking.
          So then she just launches into questions and we end up talking for basically an hour about everything under the sun: secularism, phone service providers, health care reform, why I'm in France, New Jersey, stereotypes of the French & Americans, which teachers are nice/what goes on in the teacher's lounge, and many things in between.  It was a joy and a half, quite honestly.  Obvio, we didn't manage to get to her analyzing a document, though I did have her look at one Bizarro cartoon and we talked about it for a minute.  So, I did my job?

           At one point she pulls out this Hollywood Styles gum and asks if I've tried it before.  I tell her that I've seen it before but that I don't understand it.  She asked me what I meant and so I explained that I have no idea what Hollywood has to do with gum.  She said, "Oh.  I thought it was American."  Nope.  Then I asked as I unwrapped the piece if she was allowed to be chewing gum as school.  Without missing a beat, "Well, I do whatever I want."  I love this girl.
           As she left she said, "This was fun.  I'll have to come back."  I'm basically a party.
           10am-11am: Then I went to the caisse to ask if I needed to have my meal card with me in order to get some grubs at lunch.  Because, well, I couldn't find mine.  (In truth, I had turned my room basically upside down searching for it.  In vain, my friends.  In vain.)  She said that if I went sans card, I'd have to come back to the caisse at 12:30.  Basically, Cathy told me, it'd be better if I went back to find my card.  So I went back to the teacher's lounge (as it was during my hour break) and did some photocopying/printing/exploiting my access to the printer for personal use and then saw I had 30 minutes left.  I quick-footed it back to ma chambre and again made like a tornado through my room.  I realized I hadn't looked in the drawer with my giant travel kit and whipped it open to find my somber mug (the only kind allowed on official French documents) staring back.  Success!
            11am-12pm: Supervised half of Muriel's class as they worked on summarizing portions of Obama's success speech.  Has there ever been a more popular president?  Nah.  (Maryse knows what I'm talking about here.  I would link her blog posts on the subject as she's teaching in Paris but her blog is set to private.  Which I should maybe do since someone posted an anonymous comment on the Fête post that says, "deja vu.  xoxo."  Who are you, mystery reader!?  Reveal thyself!)  During the lesson, this one girl kept on pulling out her phone.  It's honestly really funny how slick people think they are.  So on the third time she did it, I discreetly went over to her and said, "Could you please stop using your phone?"  She said yes and tucked it into her pocket.  I think I handled it well since I didn't make a scene or anything.  But it's entirely possible she hates me now.  Tant pis. (Too bad.)
             12pm-1pm: Lunch.  Omelet with potatoes on the side.  Also some cheese.  Also some terrible vegetable for which I did not care.  Dessert was a chocolate pudding thing with whipped cream (chantilly) on top.  IN THE PACKAGE.  Camille Stanback needs to hit this place up.  As I left, I saw a girl with a plate full of just potatoes.  A tuber does not a diet make.
             1pm-2pm: Class with the TSTG1 on drugs.  I put together a lesson including music that mentions drugs.  They match the lyric with the song and then we discuss the meaning of each lyric and how it relates to drug use and its effects.  It is surprisingly effective for an idea that I made up in 30 seconds.
             2pm-3pm: I actually don't know what I did for this period of time.  Prolly read the LA Times and NY Times online.  Actually, I am certain this is what I did.  Because grown ups read the newspaper.
             3pm-4pm: Class with the Premiere Com.  I had to get them to talk about their goals.  We played "I Like/I Love," which gave me memories of the Association of Black Students retreat I went to during my sophomore year of college, which was a mess but an entirely different story.  They caught on pretty well, but Lucie didn't participate.  So that was nice.  The other activity I had planned didn't work out as well because I hadn't really thought it all the way through.  Whatevs.  They spoke!
             4pm-5pm: Tutoring Aubane.  When I left the lycée building to find Aubane, she was standing with favorite Charlène and her friends (including favorite Marie and other favorite Anaïs).  (I just realized that none of my students can ever read this as it totally gives away my favorites and as a teacher I'm supposed to be impartial.  Chalk it up to lack of formal training.)
             5pm-6pm: Tutoring Charlène.  When Charlène got home from school, though, I had a bit of an awkward moment when she started telling Aubane she wasn't working hard enough because we spend the majority of our lesson in French.  Honestly, I don't know her comprehension level so I feel uncomfortable as I listen to the French argument.  (On the bright side, I understood everything?)  After our lesson, we get to chatting and Charlène tells me she was going to invite me to her dance recital but I'll already be gone.  Was I tempted to cry because it's such a lovely thought?  Yes.  But I kept it inside because crying is only acceptable at funerals and the Grand Canyon.  As I leave, she tells me Aubane spends too much time thinking about Zac Efron and Justin Bieber.  Don't we all?
          
On Wednesday, I was meant to be working with some students in a classroom but Maria, the Spanish teacher, wanted to use it.  So she came in and asked if she could use it.  As she came in, Marie was walking by and stopped to pop her head in.  I thought it was just a hello thing, and it was enchanting, but when Maria stopped talking she said, "I just wanted to make sure you understood everything because I know you said..."  Naw.  Tender.  Obvio, though, I did understand.  I'm taking over.

Tyrannically,
Yessica