Administrative Troubles and Attitude Adjustments

French administration has been stereotyped to be...well, "less than IDEAL."
And though I joke about stereotypes ALL THE TIME, I USUALLY mean no harm by them, believing stereotypes to be misleading, if not FALSE; however...in this case, regarding French administration, I think the stereotype does not address quite well enough HOW BAD things really are.

I'm no economist, but I do think France's socialist ROOTS (here I should mention that they are no longer "socialist" by nature), have had a strong effect on peoples' attitudes towards 1) service, 2) quality and meaning of "work and "efficienty" 3) PERSONAL DUTY and 4) social HEIRARCHY.

Communication is poor, mainly because you have to network through (minimally) 5 different persons before tracking down the person with whom you need to speak (who is most often on absence for x or y reasons,) and not to mention how poor the INTERNET quality is...perhaps it's just my bad luck...but I haven't had such poor quality connectivity since I was in 8th grade, "dialing up" to use AOL! (No wonder why people don't get to 'checking their emails' in timely fashion...)

When you go inside stores, people are in NO HURRY to help you. You have to HUNT down the alleged 'workers,' hoping not to disturb them from one of their many seemingly-heated/involved discussions or phone conversations - taking place during working-hours (often over their frequent* cigarette breaks.) Overhearing their whispers, you may get the gist of the average person's conversation concerning: adultery, sex, being underpaid, or one hating one's life...depression is not only rampant, but very "spoken of" here (despite the fact that psychological aid & psychiatrical counseling is looked upon as a joke.)

Therefore, if you DARE ask HELP from a help-desk, you'd think you were speaking a completely different language with the kinds of responses you get: rolling eyes, sighs, weird stares...forget SMILES! WTF is that?!??!! SMILING!?!?!? THAT'S "so AMERICAN!"

Don't even TRY to mess with someone near lunch-break. As if 2 hours was not sufficient to enjoy lunch, at quarter-to noon, the workers get antsy...a kind of anxiety that heightens all the more around 5 or 6 pm upon "closing time..." Rituals.

PAPER WORK and PAPER work seems to do the trick to 'hold off the masses' for the most part though, since if someone doesn't want to "deal" with you - you're handed a stack of papers. And not only is there NO SPACE for you to complete the paper-work on-spot, but you are EXPECTED to fill it out at home, to make copies of EVERY personal document you own, and then to MAIL IT directly (photo attached) to x or y address - allegedly to their "offices" (which again, buys them more time).

"Bread crumbs and paper trails..." my 2 most memorable 'traces' of France:

As I explained at the beginning of this blog, I first encountered administrative troubles first at th Biblitheque Nationale, alongside my facing weeks of trouble tracking down/receiving news/contractual-PAPERWORK (this time very necessary and useful paperwork to confirm my JOB) from the Academic "rectorat" (or the Federal department of education). Without any "confirmation of my "status" I could not get my social-security card, nor my health-insurance...which both required proof of 3 month's salary - but the majority of French workers were "ON VACATION" and couldn't be bothered for 2 1/2 months to get in touch with helpless desperate souls. If I fell ill, I'd be screwed...

At least this is what I was thinking, due to the absence of any sort of explanation. ANY kind of information was obtained with much effort and with much difficulty. I waited in line at the social-security offices TWICE, and was oft pushed away with paper-work and minimal explanation, thus leaving me questioning...."what NEXT?" No one was there to answer my questions...let alone from my 2 bosses, who pointed to the other for answers. "Ask X, your question pertains to things outside of our working capacities"...and then no..."Ask Y, that's not our job...ask X again."

In addition, it took 3-weeks waiting to receive my measily little bank atm-card (due to the Federal banking system) which made it very difficult to access my account on off-banking hours (which are basically ALL THE TIME!!!!!!!!)

6 1/2 months went by before I FINALLY got my social security card (that is, after sending in for a THIRD time, copies of my address, passport, and proof of salary...I suppose they LOST my records at one point!)

Along with the other problems I had with administration at the time, I suppose I was looking for trouble when I decided to apply for lodging-aid through "family services." My cousin had told me that my desperate financial situation (and very lowly single woman's salary) called for/granted me 25%-40% aid in lodgment costs; but it took 2 1/2 months for them to actually "read my paper work" and to REJECT ME.

When I finally moved in to my apartment, GETTING internet looked like it'd be another hurdle to hop over. My building apparently had no phone-lines (this is, after I called NUMEROUS services to find out if there were any records of phone bills at this address), so hiring a technician to INSTALL a line would have not only been expensive, but very timely...(a 2-month waiting line!!!!)

After getting a phone-line installed, ONLY then would I have been able to reserve an internet cable box (which were ordered from FAR FAR AWAY..(?)..which could have taken up to 1 month to be delivered...) BAHHH!! I just grit my teeth and paid for a 3-G (a usb option) to avoid the trouble...

Luckily, my cell phone had been out on loan by the woman for whom I was/am still doing babysitting, Mrs. K...

The cell phone however, doesn't make things easy to make international calls. That is, I've learned the HARD way that international-calling is 1) expensive as HELL and 2) not very evident/easily accomplished.

You'd think things like this would be straightforward, but I've come to learn that most things are NOT very straight-forward here. On the international-calling cards, there are numbers to call from a public-pay phone, as well as to call from your cell phone.

After 10 mins, my cell ran out of minutes, though I had paid over 30 euros...and when I tried the public telephone, I found that you could NOT use international calling cards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO WHERE. Collect-calls only.

I dialed the operator, and got HUNG UP ON when I asked her ANY question. "There's nothing I can do for you. Goodbye." NO APOLOGIES. That too, is "VERY AMERICAN!!!"

In fact, apologies are looked upon as "weak" I'm told. After all; administration here is based upon ordering and rank (a social heirarchy) - so one cannot admit to being wrong to someone else as long as that other person is "lower in rank than him or her" let alone to someone outside of his/her social network. It's completely pig-headed and rotten...that is...if you ask me...!

But what keeps me laughing are the EXTREMELY formal "cordial" customs; addressing strangers politely as "Madame" "Monsieur" only to follow with the most ridiculous of statements...

Letters and emails are finely written WHEN they're written - using the most "soutenu" (classy) French, and are closed with a fancy closing sentiment..."Very respectfully" or "Cordially yours..." or "I beg you to grant me the honor..." It's pretty hilarious, if you want my opinion.

Social "rules" exist where you'd never otherwise see them: don't get chummy with collegues or classmates, or else you'll be stabbed in the back...which was one "rule" I had been clued into a couple months after working, and TRYING to get chummy with collegues. The French are ALWAYS looking out for their own backs, knowing very damn well the next person will use ANY opportunity to make them look bad (only to make themselves look all the better.) ANY WAY TO MOVE UP IN THE WORLD; A DOG-EAT-DOG WORLD.

It's sad...if I'm to give honest feedback here.

The Hip and the Refined: JUXTAPOSED at the GYMNASE

I have a strong feeling that I'll be quite shocked by the "look" of American youngsters upon returning to the States this coming summer. That is, after being surrounded by a bunch of young, "hip" Frenchies, I think I will have to question all over again "what's hip" for high schoolers back in the States.

Not that I EVER knew what was going on in high school (forget what was considered to be "IN!") I must admit that teaching has given me a whole different perspective on adolescence...and on what's "COOL."

Indeed, the sheer fact that I have over 550 adolescent students gives me a powerful advantage in surveying what's GOIN' ON in the heads of kids these days...

And since I've always been a huge proponent/ADDICT of people-watching/quiet societal-observation and theorizing (often separating myself from the group in order to judge what's going on - to the point where I cannot even watch sports events -being too prone to distraction while looking at what the audience is up to/questioning their body-language, their habits, their choices...THEIR GAME - instead of watching the sporting events themselves)I certainly have landed a pretty good "SEAT" in France to WATCH PEOPLE! :-)

First of all: the kids' styles...for the young men: tight-tight-jeans - fitting TIGHT down to the ankle...clasped together, but NOT HELD UP by a metallic belt (that is, showing-off their ASSES must be seen as being "totally hot"). Button-up dress shirts covered with zip-up hoodies and long side-swept messy (by flat-straight) hair seems to attract the young ladies. The hair bit has been most aggravating to me not only because I hardly can recognize the faces of the 556 kids in my class when their faces are covered by hair, but also because they've developed ANNOYING behavioral TICKS, SHAKING the hair out of their eyes every 30 seconds or so. For the young women, short skirts, tights and high HEELS are not out of fashion, despite the sexual "liberation" of women; their long and flowing hair styles - both straight and curly - are much more predominant than short & neat styles. The over-sized "witch bag" (shiny-leather) and brief-case shoulder-bags replace ugly backpacks, and stylish jackets allow for cute outfit- accessorizing.

Secondly, the latest "hot" material items seem to be IPhones/the I-Touch, Ipods (with i-bud wires, or bulky head-phones dangling around their necks) and anything with ENGLISH written on it: tee-shirts with lame senseless expressions ironed on), as well as anything NEW YORK-related "I love NY" bags, sweatshirts etc.

Thirdly, the popular extracurricular activities and "cultural" items involve: FENCING, martial-arts (karate/judo for the youngsters only, usually), tennis, skiing piano/some refined musical instrument to be played at the conservatory, horse-back riding, mountain-climbling and of course - TRAVELLING. These kids have TRAVELLED - to Japan, China, all sorts of islands, the States, all over Europe...all by age 16-17! They've seen the museums, know the famous plays and operas and poems and writers world-wide, and practice speaking 3 languages by 9th grade...something in which they take great pride.

Soccer, handball, swimming, singing, guitar, basketball are seen as "typical" yet unrefined activities - easy to come by...and so, lots of kids don't gloat about being soccer-players (they're seen as uneducated, trash-talking players!) lolol...so funny.

Fourthly, most kids seem to share the same sentiments when it comes to certain IDEAS, perhaps due to their similar backgrounds: coming from (most often DIVORCED) families of wealth with (well-known) long and celebrated traditions/histories of academic excellence and success. Subsequently, they all gloat about their parents' jobs (surgeons, lawyers, doctors, diplomats) and outwardly admit to wanting lots of MONEY when they "grow up", and claim to NOT want any part in MARRIAGE.

They're almost all liberal, but HIGHLY unactive and uneducated politically. Having their own opinions justified is almost UNHEARD OF, although they DO try to express them in my class (I encourage them to speak their mind since, in many other classes they're expected to memorize the voices of people who matter: HIERARCHY IN FRANCE BEATS CREATIVITY!) And yet, they all seem to share a (hip?) perspective on French "national identity" being liaque (non-affiliated with religion), promoting to a great degree - their atheism....

Who woulda' thought, working at a private Protestant school that I'd come across so many young atheists...?

In any case, I suppose their rebellious tendencies make sense - at least after having met their parents. The parental generation is just as funny to encounter as the adolescent generation...indeed, the 2 generations are nicely juxtaposed at the Gymnase, where I work...

Where, amongst adults, it's EXPECTED of you to be able to cite (off the top of your head) memorized lines from theater scripts, opera performances (including those written in other languages, in Italian and German for instance), along with verses from French poetry, quotes of theologians historians and philosophers, and Biblical verses. PROPER French is spoken, and CELEBRATED "soutenu," which makes "joking" quite the intellectual's challenge...yikes! Forget facial-expression and slap-stick comedy!! NO WAY - not here! Not for them! :-)

One sure benefit of this kind of uppity social class is their commitment to education, which I too fervently promote (and benefit from!) After all, not only have I been able to travel to new "cultural destinations" but I've been PAID to take an advanced French course at the university - 800 euros for 8 weeks...SWEET!

I'm a hot commodity, being a native English-speaker from the North East (everyone loves NEW YORK! *along with San Francisco, California for some reason...?) though Americans aren't viewed as being the most refined of cultures...lol.

Both youngsters of the opposite sex & elders of the opposite sex have a funny way of communicating with one another, for they're not as chummy as kids, or collegues in the US. That is, since men seem carry with them a macho sentiment of superiority, and women a stand-offish OR bitchy/nagging image of inferiority, a distance lingers in the realm of friendly interaction. My cousin told me that it's still considered that "seduction" is always present between men & women, and that the French are very aware of this "sexual tension."

I laugh, because I SO do not find French men appealing in general!!! lol...what sexual tension? hahahaha. In any case, it all seems very out-dated and animalistic to me. French feminism is studied in the States, but perhaps little is known about the real state of affairs; there are FEW female professors, and even fewer "accepted" intellectuals, or workers...strange. I'm not even a feminist!

Am I changing, are the kids, or is it really "culture shock" ? Will I have culture shock again, coming back to the States??????

VACATION o' GLORIOUS VACATION!!!!

Okay - I admit it...one of the GREATEST parts about being a teacher is the guarenteed vacation-time. Hell, who am I kidding? One of the most wonderful things about FRANCE in general is its guarenteed vacation time! :-)

1) From the end of October in through mid-November we have 2 weeks vacation (for "All Saint's Day" and Halloween)
2) From mid-December to mid-January, we have another 2 1/2 weeks...(for Christmas)
3) From early February to the end of February, YET another 2 weeks...(Winter-break)
4) From early April to the end of April...ANOTHER 2 weeks ("spring" or Easter break)

Though I do not consider myself lazy whatsoever (I'm a very determined, hard-working character, if I may say so myself...ahem...) I do LOVEEEEEEEE my vacation-time! After all, vacation is a time to explore - to discover outside of the norm - to have ADVENTURES abroad...to PICK UP AND GO!

Every day, we (or at least I) spend planning, worrying, thinking through daily-details and efficient strategies; vacation, on the other hand is a time to VACATE your life of those things...just to get away from it all in order to experience something completely NEW.

AND greatest thanks to my working situation and finances in Strasbourg, I was able to do just that - every oportunity I had...

1) In October, I couldn't go home as I hoped I would be able to. Although it literally broke my heart to leave my dog back at home I neither had the money, nor the living situation (back in Rue de Bitche days) to allow me to bring her back to France...so, I chose a simple vacation: a weekend in Paris followed by another 10 days in Normandie...

Paris was extraordinary, although, I certainly had my moments of feelings down and out. For starters, my first visit after leaving the hostel, where I had checked in my luggage for the weekend (that is, at "The Vintage Hostel" at 73 rue de Dunkerque near la Gare du Nord) was Mont Martre - just a walk away. I was psyched to visit the Sacre Coeur, but was DEVASTED when I got bombarded with tourist traps and pushy salesmen and crazy artists.

I almost started crying at one point, when an old male artist harassed me in the street, saying that I had one of the most beautiful, but saddest faces he's ever seen in his life. He followed me for some ways (through one of the busiest sections of Paris) with his easel, imploring that I OUGHT to be drawn. I KNEW he was saying all of this just to reel me in (Parisian artist manipulation!) but the fact of the matter was that I HAD BEEN feeling down and out, and super-manipulated...I hardly knew what to do. Just moments before, a Jamaican man grabbed my wrist and knotted (speed of lightening-fast) some kind of Jamaican "friendship bracelet," to my wrist only to demand fair compensation...(for which I had no choice but to hand over a couple of euros.)

Wondering if I had "WORLD'S BIGGEST SUCKER!" on my forehead, I hardly wanted to continue moving forward...tears were filling up in my eyes, as I literally FORCED my way through the crowds of PUSHY Parisians.

The day only got better and better, though after walking from 9am in the morning until to 11pm at night, I thought my feet were going to fall off!!!!! I made my way from the Sacre Coeur all the way down to Musee D'Orsay (which was an AWESOMEEEEEEEEEEEEEE museum of impressionist art btw), then walked along the Seine River to the Notre Dame Cathedral (which - for my 3rd time in Paris - had blocked a entrance due to a strike!) and moseyed over to the University/Luxumbourg park (which unfortunately had JUST closed upon arriving at dusk). From there, I walked to the Eiffel Tower, and down Champs Elysee. After walking without stop, my stomach was growling super-loud, yet having found only the most expensive restaurants down Champs Elysee, I chose to go to the Red Light District for laughs and cheap treats (really - JUST FOOD! haha) considering how close my hostel was to that area...funny.

The next morning, I woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed for a free continental breakfast at the hostel's expense, where I met a really friendly American girl who had been living in London, and was also travelling Paris, solo. But since she wanted to go clothes/shoe shopping at the Lafayette Galaries, I wished her good luck, and parted ways (no way in hell would you ever catch me "shopping in Paris!") Instead, I ended up walked around the city a bit more - hitting up the parks and quais. Sick of walking, I resigned myself to a cafe near the train station where I was to make my way to Normandie; sitting with a stack of papers to correct and a bottle of red wine to drink, in the very least, I'd enjoy people-watching in Paris!

Yet, before too long a (stereotypical) French woman ended up sitting next to me, chain-smoking her cigarettes, STARING at me without any shame. She finally asked me what I was working on, and after telling her about my job, we continued to speak for 2 hours or so. Ironically enough, she was a French high school teacher, and got a kick out of exchanging stories about cultural and educational differences. What a funny coincidence, I thought. Unfortunately...I got so "focused" and interested in the conversation (and probably a bit tipsy at that) I ended up missing my train by 1 minute!!!!!!!!!! ARGH!

Luckily, I was able to catch the next train...but in waiting for an hour's time, I forced myself to sit and wait on the train station's dirty floor like a bum - with an ipod and art-postcards from the museum, scribbling a little poem about WAITING...(ahh...waiting...one of my most practiced yet least favorite activities...I never cease to forget Dr. Seuss's "The Waiting Room" whenever I am in limbo/in waiting like that.)

On the train to Cherbourg, Normandie (where I was to meet up with my cousin and his wife) I sat next to yet ANOTHER TEACHER, who commented on the massive STACK of papers I had been working on. (556 students means 556 papers and quizzes to correct, after all.) Between joking around, speaking seriously about teaching, and nodding off, we made our way out of Paris, and into Normandie...yet, when she got off the train a couple stations before me, I was left sitting across the way from some guy who was jerking himself off. NO LIE; right in front of me, hand inside his pants, tugging away, smacking his lips together and groaning at the same time...I couldn't even move I was so disgusted! SICK FRENCHMEN!!!

In Normandie, I profited my vacation days in Swiss-Normandy, Cherbourg and Caen, hiking, canoeing/kayaking, running, beach-walking, and visiting family...a really lovely vacation with lots of food and laughter - despite the fact that my 2 cousins and uncle came down with the "pig flu" (or some animal's name describing that season's "risky flu"...what the hell was it called?)

Subsequently, I came back to Strasbourg with the same sickness, and took 1 day off from work to recover...it wasn't so bad, although in Strasbourg, the air-quality and temperatures aren't ideal for colds and flues...yuck.

2) In December, despite the lovely Christmas markets in Strasbourg (I'll get to those details later) and despite my shakey finances, I chose to spend 2 weeks in the States in order to celebrate the holidays with family (family matters to me! ::smiles::) And though I was embarrassed to have so few gifts for everyone (not to mention that 2 bottles of wine broke in my suitcase!) I had JUST enough money saved to squeeze in a 2-way ticket...from Paris to Montreal (in connection) to Boston...

Yet the flight was a *ucking DISASTER from Paris, since France had experience its very FIRST day of snow for the winter season that morning, just before I was supposed to leave...

Initially, my flight was merely delayed. 1 hour...then 2 hours. Once the 2 hours passed, everyone boarded the plane, thinking things were finally in order. HA! Too bad we waited on the plane 5 1/2 hours before taking off! DE-ICING and waiting for clearance took longer than the flight-crew had planned, apparently! I wasn't so much bothered by the wait, as I was concerned for the babies crying and old people waiting for their medication...I watched some movies, corrected as many papers I had on hand, and talked to the people around me: what can ya' do but WAIT sometimes?

The flight lasted another 7 1/2 hours (and this was all after the train ride I had taken from Strasbourg) putting me in Montreal 30mins before the last connection to Boston for the night (having already missed my connection!) Somehow, the terminal workers got CONFUSED about the gate-closing times, in telling us that we could still catch the last flight out of Montreal; A WHOLE crowd of passengers RAN to the gates to catch the plane (I was in the lead...the blind leading the blind...) only to find, all at once, that the plane was set to take off without us: gates closed!

Consequently, my luggage was allegedly "lost" according to the airport terminal services (they thought it had been sent on the airplane anyways) and therefore I had NO CELLPHONE to call my sister (who was already waiting to pick me up at the Boston airport) in order to let her know I was STUCK in Montreal without my luggage...

Thanks to a really nice guy from Northampton (just a town away from my hometown, who, ironically had been sitting next to me on the airplane all the way from Paris) I was able to make an international phone call from his cell. (Too bad my sister's cell phone had DIED that evening! I managed to leave a message in the least...)

After a lot of running around, and HOURS of investigation on my part, it turned out that my luggage WAS at the airport after all...but unfortunately in the process of investigating, I was too "inspected" and questioned, for having transported 6 bottles of wine in my suit-case...(2 which had already BROKEN). Yet since the airport was such a mess, with so many angry passengers, they let me wheel off my luggage without claiming it, or charging me fines. (Luck had it that my clothes were sealed, into which I could change, in my cozy hotel room at the Marriot - for which my flight was willing to pay...along with my dinner.)

I bumped into the girl I had been sitting next to on the airplane-ride that night at the hotel bar, and we ended up eating dinner together and sharing some wine, talking about our lives. She was an aspiring movie-director & script-writer living in Paris...a really interesting American girl to say in the least. (Too bad I forgot her name?) In any case, it was exciting, despite all the stress...I was on VACATION!

I got up super-early the next morning to switch my flight to Hartford as opposed to Boston, since it'd speed up my time getting home...at which point I bumped into the Northampton kid again, waiting in line for customs clearance. I bought him a big frappaccino to thank him for letting me make an international call on his cell, and ended up sitting next to each other (again) for the whole plane ride leaving back home. This kid too, was SUPER-interesting, as he had just finished 3 months in Paris studying sociobiology and neuroethics (which, perchance, had been right up my alley...)

Yet, on this (teeny tiny) air plane-ride, I got sick all of a sudden, realizing just before landing that I had gotten my period (sorry for the extra gory details!) But, in a messy rush, I had been trying to clean up just as the tiny plane was trying to make its landing....ugh...a disaster.

As a result of being so flustered, I ran off the airplane missing my wallet, which had fallen out beneath my seat in the midst of my searching for tampons...which I realized 30 mins into the car-ride back home with my Dad. Needless to say - he was pretty pissed, and I was...well, a mess. BUT...I was home :-) And the best part was that my dog, Byndee was there to give me her sweet licky kisses!!! AWWW!!!!!!!

The vacation time spent at home was rejuvinating and really...really good; I came back to Strasbourg a different woman, really. Happy Holidays.

3) For February break, I worked 1 week babysitting (making extra cash) and another week travelling the South of France and Spain via train. (Although I desperately wanted to make my way down to Sevilla and Malaga, I had only 1 week's time to get my ass all over the place...so I planned instead to stick around Barcelona for 4 days). Before reaching Barcelona, I had a beautiful day and a half in Montpellier, followed by a couple visits with family members in Nimes. THEN, due to coming down with some disgusting kind of sickness (the most RIDICULOUS cold I've EVER had in my life) I ended up leaving Barcelona a day early & surprise-visited my Godmother, a little south Montpellier on my way back.

Montpellier, to begin with - was an amazing city. If I could have done things differently, I would have spent my year (which was initially meant to be 2 or 3 years) in Montpellier as opposed to Strasbourg...but...oh well...that's not the way things happened for obvious reasons. I walked around the city, snapping pictures, and breathing in the southern air...enjoying the sunshine. The beach was a sight to see at sunrise...

From Montpellier, I trained-it up, to Avignon - and visited some Bourdons! It was SO cool to meet family I had never met before...drinking, eating, and joking together was a real blast...even if you don't grow up together, there's a strong bond in blood-connections, I suppose.

And yet before too long, I said Adieu, and continued back SOUTH again, to Barcelona...where it was rainy and cold. BRRRR...REALLY cold. Getting off the train, I bundled up and resorted to walking-around to warm myself up. After all, I hadn't yet booked a hostel, and I'd have to find something interesting and reasonable so that I wouldn't have to wheel my luggage around too long.

But I should mention that I got lost...well, almost a million times without an umbrella :-) The first night there, I purposefully got myself lost however: thinking I'd navigate my way back to my selected hostel pretty easily (I get a thrill out of orientation and navigational challenges!) but came to learn how difficult it was to find my way around with a (rain) destroyed map...!

That same night, in between getting lost and finding interesting things to see, I ate Tapas, enjoyed a couple glasses of red wine and Sangria, and decided to search out some live music and dancing. (Luck had it that I made my way to the hostel just before 11:30, where a group of youngsters directed me to a jazz club.)

The jazz club was pretty sweet, but the club was even sweeter, despite the 10euro-beers and 13euro-priced coctails! The cave-like atmosphere was really unique, the lighting was dim and chill, but the room itself was filled to the brim with outspoken Spaniards...laughing and sharing good times.

When the show ended around 2:00, I wasn't finished with my evening...I wasn't satisfied...So, overhearing some music thumping a ways away, I crept up some steps into a connecting-club to find a dance party that was well under way...

Michael Jackson was playing...really loud, so I decided I'd just have to "represent!!" (he had passed away only a couple months prior, while I was in Europe). I danced and danced and danced, which was exactly what I was looking for. Cathartic dancing!!! "Dancing the Dionysian..."

Finally, some young Italian-stallion guy asked me to dance with him, and I was happy to take his hand. We danced until 4am or so...trying to communicate messages without either of us speaking or understanding the other person's native tongue. One of his friends came to rescue the night, however, when he translated an invite, asking me if I'd like to join them in an afterparty.

I had nothing to lose but time at this point (i.e., I had nothing to be "stolen") so from 4-6:30am or so, we chilled at some private club, drinking a couple more drinks, and dancing a couple more dances. People were obviously getting pretty pooped though. Walking out altogether, we whistled the Pink Panther theme song, laughing about our night spent in Barcelona. What a weird night in the end...getting lost...getting found...we parted ways and wished each other a good stay.

The next couple of days in Barcelona were pretty amazing, though I was starting to feel pretty SICK, coughing and sneezing everywhere. I visited Gaudi-everything, and LOVED it...way more than I ever thought I could or would enjoy looking at architecture. Indeed, I took on a whole new sense for and appreciation of architecture as the "highest form" of visual art...(although I may change my mind on that interpretation...)

I walked around the city - each part - looking for something interesting...the cathedrales...the parks...some museums(the Picasso museum was a disappointment however!) and before too long I realized the city was JUST TOO LARGE to get through by foot...

I paid 32 euros for a day's bus-tour...tourist-style...open-roof, and in the rain. That probably didn't help my health at that point.

It also didn't help that I shared my hostel room with 11 other single- travellers...in a musty, crammed hostel room. My last night there, I hardly even felt like leaving my room, despite its very conditions, for I was NOT feeling up to par...but I still forced myself out the door in order to catch 1 last live-blues performance at a small club that I had researched the night before.

The damn club wasn't to be found though, and NO ONE on the streets knew what club I was infering into! Too bad my poor attempts at speaking Spanish made things worse...!!!! (So as much as I HATE<-------to say it....speaking English is the way to go in a foreign city if you can't speak the native tongue well...)

After a million attempts down side streets, I finally stumbled upon my desired destination, and was REALLY glad that I did put in the efforts; the music, the atmosphere...the club itself was AMAZING! I had a surreal night, swinging my legs from an upper-balcony seat, listening to Nina Simone and Ella Fitzgerald tunes...drinking Spanish beer (just 1 though...after all...I was sick.)

The next day, I was to make my way north to Montpellier...for a 2nd time...but this time I was there to connect with my Godmother. She hosted me for the night, despite my disgusting state of health, which ended up being a really nice visit. Seeing family has been a real highlight of all my trips...!

4) For April vacation, I spent 2 days in Venice and 3 days in Lyon, France -which, despite its brevity, turned out to be the most exciting vacation I had yet experienced in Europe! It's a good thing I saved 1 week to recover before returning to work...both financially (since I was able to make a bit of extra cash thanks to babysitting) as well as emotionally...

I left Wednesday morning from Strasbourg in order to arrive in Venice in time to walk around a bit. The train ride tookabout 9 hours (having stopped in Basel, Milano, Torino and finally in Venice.) Despite the duration, it was a really enjoyable train ride, since was able to enjoy yet another view of the Swiss Alps, as well as the northern Italian landscapes under the sunshine...just gorgeous!

In addition, I was able to start reading a new book on Lonergan's Value Ethics, having recently finished reading "Lila" by Robert Pirsig (my favorite author) which had gotten me thinking about the possibility of a "Dynamic Metaphysics of Morals" based upon "quality..."

When I finally arrived in Venice, I wanted to drop my things off at the hotel (which was not in Venice, but in Mestre) so I had to track down the right bus to access the hotel.

The bus ride was a little complicated because the bus stops were unmarked, but thanks to the instructions on the hotel website, I knew well enough that the hotel was somewhere near the last bus-stop...

BUT night fell quickly, and found myself to be 1 of three remaining persons on the bus when it stopped in the middle of nowhere - the real countryside of Mestre.

The driver stopped the bus, but instructed me in Italiano-Fr-anglish that the hotel was around the corner...I hardly could believe it...."a hotel out here!?" I thought...REALLY!?!?!?! Wheeling my luggage down the dark residential neighborhood, I was feeling a bit silly...

But low and behold, the bus driver was right: Hotel Villa Dori was safely situated between some houses, hiding behind some trees around the corner. I walked in, hungry and ready to unload my baggage...but as soon as I walked in, something immediately struck my eye.....it was really one of the strangest things...

The hotel desk receptionist looked up at me as I walked in, and his eyes were glaring bright...like a beautiful, wild wolf. He was dealing with 2 Americans and automatically began speaking to me in English; he looked REALLY annoyed. I made a snide remark about his ASSUMING that I too was American, his having addressed me in English, but after a faint (fake) giggle he continued to give his little speil about the hotel, and Venice (a prerehearsed and extensive explanation of what to see, what to do/what not to see and do) for all "us Americans."

There was something about him that REALLY drew me in. I was so taken by him - his fiestiness, no-bullshit directive (and seemingly-annoyed attitude) juxtaposed with generosity, goodness...and passion in his eyes.

That night, I decided to get food right next door and hit the hay early, around 11 rather than risking the bus-situation again...and in falling asleep almost immediately, I began dreaming of the desk receptionist

I could only laugh a little bit (remembering my dream) when I saw that he was STILL there the very next morning - to work the morning shift. I made a comment about his scheduling, (having been surprised to find someone working the late night shift as well as the early morning shift, back to back.) And he seemed to appreciate my taking notice of his hard work, and realizing this, I felt comfortable enough to thank him for his suggestions and generosity.

I actually felt sorry for him, being stuck there...but not badly enough to keep me from taking off to Venice as early as possible :-)

And O BOY! VENICE was INCREDIBLE...in fact, I can't think of 1 bad thing to say about it. Gorgeous weather, gorgeous views, amazing food, amazing people.

Although I fucked up on taxi-boat numbers, getting my island-visits all fouled up (despite the very good instructions I had received from the receptionist) I got around, island-hopping just fine in the end - from Venice to Murano to Lido and back to San Marco square. I was able to see A LOT by foot. At the Murano glass factory, an Italian guy was REALLY pushy and extra-friendly with me, trying to make the moves. As I tucked my way out of the museum, a collegue of his came to find me, insisting that I go to dinner with them both. I kindly refused and walked out, a bit flushed from embarassment (that is...AFTER seeing how glass-blowing is done...a pretty cool exhibit all in all...!)

I purposefully allowed myself to get lost (yes...again) in San Marco/San Polo areas, since it was so gorgeous outside. Since I refused to use the map for a good 2 hours, and I later had to find WHERE I ended up in relation to the restaurant at which I was hoping to dine. In the end, I lucked out, having noticed the gelateria that the receptionist had suggested to me, which provided insight into my coordinates...

The restaurant I had been searching out was BOOKED for the night, and so I was forced to go elsewhere. Nevertheless, I found a great place near Chiesa di San Giacomo Dell'Orio to have some pizza. Over pizza, red wine and bread rolls, I enjoyed the sun setting by the quai, as well as a REALLY good conversation with a young couple from MULHOUSE (which is just 20 mins from Strasbourg!) When you're travelling solo, you're almost 100% sure to come across new people and good conversation. I LOVE IT!

Once it was dark out, I drifted over to a live guitar-session in a cute little piazza. A variety of classic rock tunes (Stevie Ray Vaugn and CCR and Dylan) had been echoing off the waters, and I was simply drawn IN to go listen.

While I was listening to the live music playing, there was a little dog running around playing tricks, making quite the attraction for everyone listening. I smiled, thinking of my baby-girl (my DOG, that is) and felt nice and cozy...

I had a couple glasses of wine, and listened to their variety of American tunes before deciding to make my way back to the hotel...(10am to 10:30 pm in Venice is quite the day of sun and walking...!)

BUT since it was late, I would have to take a late bus heading back inland, which took a different route to the hotel than the route I had taken previously. As a result, I missed my stop. I had calculated the ride to be 30 mins, and decided to get off, at which point it was already "too late." So, I'd have to wait for a return bus, out in the middle of nowhere, in order to retrace my steps. (That is, thanks to the help of yet another hotel receptionist, I was able to estimate how far I was off from my desired destination...) But funny enough: this hotel desk receptionist knew the desk-guy at MY hotel. When I had told her where I was trying to go, she insisted she call him to see if he could send a driver to come and get me, and I adamently refused, fearing the hotel receptionist would think me to be a REAL "American" idiot. (In the end, though, she DID call him, and it so turned out that the driver for the hotel was in Venice and was therefore unable to get to me) so I made my way back through public transportation after hoofing it a ways.

Finally getting back to the hotel around 11:30, I asked the guy at the front desk (who had STILL been working) if he thought I'd be able to exchange my 7am train ticket for a later train. After hashing some ideas about what to do, I decided I'd risk being charged for missing the early train in order to sleep in past 5:30am...(since my train leaving Venice was at 7am!) We made a little bit of small talk (he asked if I was the "lost girl" that had made the phone call...) and feeling bad to have already put him through so many frustrations (actually, to feel LESS like a jerk) I offered him a cookie I had bought from a bakery in downtown Venice. After all, I figured he could use a little cheer up after his LONG triple-work-shift. He was seemingly delighted, and bidding farewell, I went to bed.

"Knock knock" on my door echoed for real, around midnight - except this time, it wasn't a dream: it was REALLY the hotel receptionist! He was all apologetic for risking having woken me up, (although I was watching CNN in bed, PJ's and all).

Smiling the cutest of smiles, he offered me 2 clementines which he said was all he had to exchange for my warmth and kindness earlier. And sort of awkwardly, (I suppose because I only opened the door enough to avoid exposing my bra-less state of affairs under my PJS) he went on to ask me if I'd like to join him for a drink..."if it wasn't already too late." (He knew I had been planning on catching the train, since I had asked him for his input already...)

I was pysched, but since I was already in PJ's, and since the bar next door had already closed down, he ran over and got beers to bring back to the hotel, claiming he wouldn't "bother me."

In any case, something about him enabled me to feel immediately comfortable with the situation...or, should I say...accepting of the situation (after all, I was NOT comfotable, due to an ENORMOUS WAVE OF EXCITEMENT, CHILLS and SHAKES RUNNING DOWN MY SPINE, and through my LEGS!)

We talked and talked and talked and talked until about 3:45 in the morning, at which point he said he had to go. I was having such a great time talking with him and getting to know his mysterious personnage (representing already some kind a fictional character of my imagination), that I didn't WANT him to go!

It had turned out that he was Croation and had grown up in Venice, and was working at the hotel to help finance his artistic career writing and directing short "films-noirs." He had so much to say about Nietzsche, the Doors and value-theory - it seemed almost TOO IRONIC considering what I had been reading and thinking about on my way into Venice. His English, and his way of communicating (great eye-contact) was outstanding...HE was impressive in general (and this is coming from a girl who is NOT easily IMPRESSED by men!)

Perhaps out of shock (and by his charm) I didn't want to come off as a complete idiot. For all he knew, I was some floosy, superficial, lying nobody, who kept getting lost...and I started worrying that he saw me in this light: as some kind of fictional character for one of his depressing short films: the lonely American girl, "lost" in Venice...

Somewhere in the midst of my worrying about this, I spat out the most foolish of lies, telling him my birthday was on January 21st. WHY I lied about my birthday is beyond me; but at the moment, my mind had drifted off/wandered into worry-land, and when asked a DIRECT question: "How old are you?" I found myself "caught" giving a robotic-like response, half-listening, (which I often do when my mind is elsewhere) telling him: "I'm 25 but almost 26..." (thinking nothing much of it, I didn't think through the math...indeed, I wasn't thinking of anything other than what I was already focused on...)

But when he said, "OH REALLY? WHEN EXACTLY IS YOUR BDAY? 1984?" I realized what I had done; my answer "almost 26" wasn't just right! "DAMNIT," I thought: why did I say that? NOW I couldn't go and to contradict myself, nor couuld I HIDE my age, nor did I want to lie about the year in which I was born, nor about my astrological sign (just in case he knew anything about that stuff)...so...I quickly responded, so as not to STALL/be weird...and Jan. 21st was the first thing that came out of my mouth, for I knew it was still in the sign of the Aquarius, and...it was SOMEWHAT closer to being "almost 26" than was February 2nd.

Okay - NO LOGIC there...I know...and I paid the consequences for the lie, having felt SO foolish afterwards.

But, as he left, approaching the door, I was REALLY surprised when he pulled my shoulder in towards him, caressing my hair. When he went in to kiss me, I could harldy believe it. Not only was I really excited (and shocked that he'd fall for such a fool) but he had been talking for so long about his passion for HIS life, and HIS dreams, and his disinterest in romance...

Our kissing led to REALLY passionate kissing, which led to really passionate caressing among other things. In short: It was just INCREDIBLE...a great romance in Italy!

Around 5:30am, we were trying to decide what to do next, since he could get in trouble if he was seen running back to the reception hall...but he decided to go, after which I decided to do the same. I showered up, packed, (and without having received a blink of sleep) ran over to the bus stop for 6:25am.

I made my train on time (thank goodness!) and slept for about an hour in transit, arriving in Turino at 11am. Unfortunately, and fortunately all the while, I had an 8hour lay-over in Turino, which ended up being (to my surprise) a GORGEOUS city.

Nevertheless, I simply coulnd't walkkkk much longer:::

I had rolled my luggage for miles and miles across the city already, trying to waste time, when finally, at some point in the afternoon, I decided to splurge some euros on a yummy lunch, on a terrace overlooking the river, after which I tried to take a little nap in a park nearbye (but I kept getting hit by little kids playing soccer and frizbee, lol...so I walked around and took in the sights a bit more...)

My head was in the clouds, thinking about my special night with "N," and I couldn't do much more than just WAIT. (again...waiting...for my train.)

Funny enough though....I almost missed my train ride even though I arrived at the train station 40 mins early! After all, the "info desk" told me that my train wasn't listed because the train got changed to a BUS...(a STRIKE was going on in France) but they COULDN'T tell me (because they didn't know) WHERE THE BUS WAS LEAVING FROM...

(I ran around the train station like a madwoman asking all sorts of people, even the police officers...and no one knew.) Having already been 5 minutes past the time for departure, at the point of crying (not only out of exasperation, but out of PAIN - my feet were bleeding!) some bum pointed at some bus, off in the distance, saying it was going to Lyon. I RANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN through the traffic, with my luggage, and HOPPED on the bus ,exactly 7 mins late. I was SO RELIEVED!!!!

On the way to Lyon, I half-slept, although the seats were NOT meant for sleeping...and I arrived in France at 11:40pm, where my cousin had arranged to meet me.

We spoke (having met for the first time) until about 1:30, and made a couple of rough plans for the following day. In the morning, on Saturday, we slept till 9, and went grocery shopping for sandwich-material and dinner/dessert ingrediants. We packed up sandwiches, and went over to a beautiful park to picnic, after which we rented bikes to visit Lyon, on the way to the downtown-area, where we ended up walking around. As sun was setting, we caught some drinks at an outdoor cafe, and decided on a dinner-destination (sushi) to which I treated her, along with huge sundaes for dessert.

The next day (Sunday) we slept till 9:30 and made a big lunch (an Italian pasta dish) along with dessert (chocholate cake!) and spent the afternoon in the Gallo-Roman museum (AWESOME!!!) and the "old city" region of Lyon, where there were live musicians playing in tucked-away/hidden squares. We again caught some hot chocolates (this day was cooler than the days prior) and made plans to meet up with her boyfriend to see a movie. We watched Alice in Wonderland, with which we were all disappointed. From there, we went back to her place, and talked until about 2:30.

Waking around 10am on Monday, we spent some time futzing around, packing up, and headed over to the free zoo to visit the animals, and to walk around the city a bit more. Catching very cold, I insisted we get lunch somewhere warm, after which we made our way to the train station.

My train was delayed, but only by 45 mins...and I made my long ride home. My name was announced to go see the controller at one point, since apparently, someone had taken off with my luggage (back in time, some hour before then) and had already RETURNED IT, unbeknownst to me!....I was lucky this time!!! :-)

Coming back home, I read through some emails, and thought about romance all the more (thinking how we always desire what cannot be had) hence my "need" for emotional recovery before returning to work...

The Good, The Bad and the Suicidal: Situations at School

I couldn't possibly give a run-down of every rotten incident that I've faced in my 8 months of teaching in France, nor could I possibly give a fair analysis of every (556) students of mine...BUT what I CAN do is select my favorite stories to tell...the good, the bad, and the suicidal...

To start with the worst; sometime last October, I had receieved news that one of my students in 4ème had been found suspended over his bed that morning - that he had committed suicide by hanging himself. And yet, if I hadn't gotten to the "salle des professeurs" to hear the news (just in time) early that morning, I wouldn't have known that afternoon WHY my little 11year old was missing from my class.

MUM was the word...no one spoke about it...no one reacted...

Looking around confusedly, wondering why NO ONE else seemed SHOCKED as hell that a problem-free, charismatic 11year old boy had DIED - by CHOICE that morning, I began asking (inappropriate) questions...

"Is anyone else shocked?" "Did you too have this student in your class?" "Could you have seen this coming?" "Did you see any signs of depression?" "How should I face my students questions?"

Come to find out, suicide was fairly common-place here...and most of my questions were easily answered: this was the 3rd passing in 2 years (including the school nurse, and wife of the assistant professor who dove out of a window, right in front of the students, jumping to death's door) SO with all due respect, professors chose not to make a big scene this time around. It's been unfortunate enough to have a child die, let alone have everyone pass rumours...enough tragedy already...

I spoke to some fellow professors about gathering all students and professors to talk about it, in order to AVOID rumours, fear, anxiety - to have a cathartic moment, so as not to AVOID the reality of tragedy altogether, but the direction of the school had been asked by the family not to do such a thing; a public "Goodbye" ceremony would be held some days later, and that was all.

Some students were given the right to miss class that week (his friends and classmates), and not to mention his elder sister (who must have been a wreck that morning,and in weeks to come - having been the first one to discover him hanging from his bedroom suspension). I too encouraged my students to excuse themselves to go to the school psychologist, or to the school's "aumonérie" (the Pasteur) in order to talk about it, if they had any desire to do so, but no one took me up on the offer. MUM was the word amongst the students.

I suppose they had ALREADY learned the lessons of the the dog-eat-dog/competitive atmosphere of private education, and had become aware that stress could lead to such ends. Immediately, I was reminded of DEAD POET'S SOCIETY, and wondered what it must be like to have such pressure on one's shoulders at such a YOUNG AGE! How miserable, I thought...what happened to children acting like children? CURIOUS, ENTHUSIASTIC, EXCITED to learn for the sake of learning...?????????????????????

At the ceremony, many students and professors made presence, and were very respectful to that end. Listening to the Pasteur speak of "Le Petit Prince" brought tears to my eyes; I didn't hold back from crying, and luckily, the collegue who had been sitting next to me didn't hold back either.

Some of my students looked at us with loving, sympathetic eyes for which I later thanked them, along with the 2 students who sang and played the piano beautifully in honor of their fellow classmate. I was impressed, at least, for their connaissance of ceremonial ritualisation.

Since October, everything has gone back to normal...

And what exactly does NORMAL mean anyways?

Well...as a teacher, I suppose one is forced to accept the relativity of NORMALITY.

In classe 2nde, I have some groups of students that do NOTHING, some groups of students who are endlessly act like SMART-ASS WISE-MOUTHS altogether, then there are the GRIPERS and MOANERS, the OVERLY-ENTHUSIASTIC and RAMBUNCTIOUS about EVERYTHING, and others who are just STELLAR...(WAY more impressive than college-aged students-stellar!)

In the beginning, it was difficult to differentiate one group from the next. For starters, it required a great deal of memory to prepare for each course ahead of time, taking into consideration the nature of each group, and of course, my standards of discipline had to vary from group to group!

I warned everyone that talking would not be allowed unless hands were raised; and that any violation would lead to "les avertissements" in their "carnets de correspondances" (written warnings in obligatory-student-journals, to be signed by the school administration/disciplinary office as well as by their parents any time they are "bad.")

These written warnings worked well for a little while; I gained FEAR if not a TEENY bit of respect, but they certainly did't work well for EVERY group.

Although I was encouraged to punish students for putting their heads down on their desks during class (the nothing-doers), as well the students who outwardly hated on the class (the rebellious moaners and groaners), and the students who spoke out without raising their hands...I surely would have turned into a COP if I dished out written warnings for every "violation."

I slowly eased up, allowing students to speak their mind, and even raised some controversies by putting them against one another, hoping for intellectual debate.

This backfired, of course...many times. One time, a student shared his response to a question concerning "mentors" and "role models," saying that Jesus was his prime example. ALL the students laughed at him, and I hardly knew how to react on the spot. When I get really irritated (or embarrassed or angry) it's difficult for me to find the right words in French - my emotions take over, and the blood rushes to my brain (which is clearly shown on my face) leaving very little possibility for clear-thinking...so I said "Stop it right now! At least this one student is brave enough to express himself with honesty while the rest of you are all sheep, sitting there laughing at him." I regretted not punishing them, when looking at the face of the poor kid that had literally been punished for expressing himself...

2 weeks later (since I see each group only once every 2 weeks), I warned them about maintaining minimal standards of mutual-respect, saying that I'd reauire them to write an un-graded pass-fail (manditory) 5 page essay about respect if we continued to have problems.

Though we still continue to have "issues" in class (attacking religion without critical argumentation) the students HAVE made some attempts to avoid making PERSONAL attacks.

In another class, a student would NOT stop interrupting me, correcting my errors in French, or adding "fun facts" to my lectures without raising his hand...a REAL wise-ass. His collegues LOVED him for it, for they could see he was able to get under my skin...which (considering my very obvious body mannerisms and expressions) made everyone laugh. When it came time to perform oral presentations, he did an "impression" of a "typical American."

Instead of exploding there and then, I approached the principle at the "Conseils de classes" (held on a tri-mester basis to evaluate the behavior and progress of each individual student and every class). NOT ONE professor agreed that this particular student was problematic, so I made a private complaint in the principal's office to ensure that my voice was heard. Thankfully, the principal/director is an understanding, and wise (and patient) man...

Since, he addressed at that meeting the following items:

"Dear Miss Bourdon, although I have the profoundest respect for your courage and hard work, I have to ask you to work on your familar-French expression, since your "problem student" brought to my attention a recent event..."

I knew exactly what he was getting at: A few weeks prior, I had gotten really flustered by a neighboring problem-student in the same group (a friend of this problem-child) at which point (after several oral warnings) I told him to "shut the fuck up" (or in French or "Ta gueule!") It had SLIPPED OUT, though I MEANT to say "TAIS-toi!"

My director/boss/the principal laughed a bit, encouraging me rather than reprimanding me, to be on top of the "vulgar" expressions that are oft utilized by students and avoided by professors, and he reminded me that it was imperative ESPECIALLY amongst super-brilliant students, like my "problem child."

He was right. I'd have to be on better guard. The PROBLEM with my problem-child was indeed that he KNEW more than me about nearly EVERYTHING - including religion (since he came from a very Catho-CATHO family) - and I'd have to be more careful not to agitate him. For he, along with a truck-load of students in 2nde (10th grade) was SUPER-intellectual, and TOO QUICK to shatter anyone who couldn't keep up.

KEPPING UP, is the very least I HAD to do, as a professor, and I KNEW THAT. CONFIDENCE was key...and bullshitting was the secondary ingredient. I've learned that many students are EXCELLENT bullshitters...and I'd have to start playing suit.

In other classes, TALKING was more difficult to control and regulate. One group loves tangential subjects, and another DEBATING...which is but a teacher's dream come true.

One student, however, is so funny I cannot avoid laughing when he cracks inappropriate jokes. It's DIFFICULT in MANY classes, but when he's in the room, I can't even control myself any longer.

For instance, as we were finishing up an exercise at the end of my last class, he looked up to me (he sits directly in front of me) and asked: "Madame Bourdon" (They all refer to me as Madame Bourdon even though I introduced myself as Mademoiselle Bourdon!) "What kind of music do you like?"

* Vacation had just ended, and the big hype in Strasbourg had been the music festival, which had apparently been on his mind*

Half-listening (as I was organizing my materials) I thought I heard him say "MMe. Bourdon, can I listen to music?" to which I said "NO!"

Laughing, he said..."Mme. that doesn't answer my question! I asked you what kind of music you like, and you just said NO; that's like asking what flavor ice cream you like and getting the response, dog." He continued, "it's as though I were to ask you to have sex with me, only to have you say GREEN!"

I burst out laughing, even though it was TOTALLY inappropriate, but I swaer - it's harder than one should think! KIDS CAN BE FUNNY...AND strange!!!

In classe 3ème, I have a real mix of talkers and "cool dudes." The problems in class range from students responding to questions with the most ridiculous comments, paper-tearing, crumbling, folding and occasional air-plane throwing (physical agitation), forgetfulness of material..."Madame, I forgot my book today," is VERY COMMON. BUT I near GAVE UP punishing them for it. In 9th grade, positive-reinforcement seems to work best...I give them a lot more written work to do, and more 'little' assignments to keep their minds focused...

In 4ème, the worst problem is silliness - which is hardly a problem at all; in fact, sometimes it's just darn CUTE. A couple of times, I've had some students throw up during class, or get bloody-noses (for some reason, this age is tormented with things like these!) as well as talking-attacks.

I was one of those kids in school, so I suppose I can sympathze, though unfairly perhaps.

I am much more stern with them, and require their hands to be raised in air, and for that reason, they seem to respect me (or hate me) a lot more. We STICK to the material, and occasionally do fun projects...but what I love best are their positive goodbyes:

"Have a good day Mme Bourdon" or "Bon apetit" before lunch. SO CUTE!!!

And I should here say that I have SOME students - in every grade - that keep me astounded. Their questions, their maturity, their intensity is SO outstanding I wish I could spend EVERY class with them...

First Impressions...

I've learned that first impressions are often mistaken. And though some may argue that our first impressions correspond with some kind of "natural instinct," or some kind of automatic "reception of the truth," experience has taught me that no such thing exists; nothing is that EASY; humans are MORE complex.

And I believe if we are honest with ourselves, this would become all the much clearer; after all, it seems commonplace for human beings to put up a guard - that, when placed into new situations, we are likely to be a bit on the defense; and as such, are forced (to some extent) to put on a mask - to create an image or portrayl of ourselves that we know others may "like" or accept...

This may or may not be necessary depending on the situation or environment (some conditions call for defensive mechanisms and self-protection and other times require none at all).

Having moved throughout my childhood from one part of the state to the next (from school to school) and later from university to university, only to be followed by relocating to a different country in my young adulthood, I have thought a lot about self-image, projection, portrayls and FIRST IMPRESSIONS...

Unfortunately, I've never mastered the "art" of first impressions despite the time I've put into thinking about them; both projecting my own image, as well as understanding impressions of others is difficult for me.

Some of my greatest friends and mentors have been people whose initial impressions turned me to look the other way, and meanwhile, I've been told that my own first impressions are pretty lousy, coming off as "snobby," "cocky," or "overly confident." The funniest impressions-feedback I've received are things like: "I thought you were a rich-equestrian when I met you." Or, "you LOOK like a teacher..." And my favorite: "You look look like a MARRIED EVANGELICAL CHRISTIAN..." (??!!!??) hahahahahhahahaahahha!!!!!

Though I am in no position to say whether or not these things are true to my personality (except for the obviously-false statements...) I'd like to believe people were perceiving one of my MASKS.

Though it is difficult for me to NOT express my true feelings and emotions (I have little control over my expressions and outward reactions) I too mus put on a "mask," from time to time.

When my first day of teaching was on the horizon, I knew I'd only have 1 first impression - both to give, and to receive. Though I was scared shitless, to the point where I could hardly breathe, I didn't want my students or collegues to sense this. I HAD to come off as an authority if I wanted to maintain the upper disciplinarian hand; I COULD NOT look like a frightened floosy youngster if I wanted to meet intelligent, interesting people. Most importantly, I HAD to keep this job!

A black and white button-up long-sleeve collard shirt, with black dress pants would do the trick; soemthing neutral...with my hair-up, and with a smile on my face I would try my best (in the very least) not to invite negative attention from others. A professional, serious, but classy and welcoming woman...this was what I was going for....

With my students, on the very first day of classes, I too quickly admitted, in all honesty, that I was nervous and granted them the right to correct my French if they were polite about it (in raising their hand), thus opening the door to my own insecurities...

With my collegues, however, I tried to maintain a certain distance (still smiling, so as not to be a COMPLETE jerk) avoiding questions, for I didn't want anyone to know how AWFUL my French was, how very LITTLE I knew about religion, nor how very SCARED I was to be standing before so many intellectual, culturally-cultivated (French) professors (in such a sophisticated and historically significant & ancient atmosphere!)

The fact of the matter is that the truth COMES out in time, and first impressions must be erased, or made up for.

Like good music, it takes time to appreciate...like good friends, people too require TIME to understand and appreciate and judgments cannot be rushed.

However, thanks to others' faith in humanity, (leaving judgments aside), their generosity and kindness, a couple of collegues and students have made my stay bearable, despite my shitty first impressions...

Hiking & Skiing - the Lovely ALPS!

My Mom had always ranted and raved about her months spent bicycling across Europe - way back when she was 18 years old. Based upon her select few photographs and horrifyingly-thrilling adventure stories, I had always envisioned the French and Swiss Alps to be cold, mysterious, and unwelcoming, yet something within me drew my feet towards them, always feeling curious and urged to go see them for myself; back in August of 2009 I was lucky enough to do just that.

As I've said before in other blog postings- one must learn to expect the unexpected (both the bad AND the good.) For instance, though I had always DREAMED of making my way over to the Alps, I had no idea that I'd be granted the opportunity to spend the weekend hiking the Swiss Alps with a group of 8 Freiburgers this past August...

A weekend hike had already been organized by a group of adults to which "C" had introduced me. Thanks to their kindness and hospitality, I was welcomed to join them in Ticino, Switzerland, having been so near already (I was at the right place at the right time, I suppose!) For one full day's hike, we covered the gorges and the valleys of the Alps in Ticino, not too far from Lac Lugo Maggiore. The most crystal-clean, bright blue waters rushed by underfoot. To our left or right there were the most striking aspects of the mountain tops, glistening in the sun. I had never seen such BLUE waters, or clear skies, even way up north towards Canada.

Apart from this, the weekend was just perfect for hiking...it was sunny, warm, but not unbearably hot; the shady cavernous passageways provided plenty of shade when needed, while the majestic waterfalls and rippling creeks provided ample drinking water. The abandoned mountain-villages created a mysterious and intriguing ambiance, inciting us to continue.

Yet once night began to fall behind the tallest mountain passes, we called quits and took some shelter for the night (luckily just before it began to rain, all too suddenly!) at "La Fosanella" - which was a terriffic and highly recommended (and affordable) hotel/restaurant.

The second day's hike was a bit more difficult, but equally beautiful, if not moreso. To begin with, we took the gondola up a ways early in the morning, to "Alpe Foppa" at Monte Tamaro. After gulping down some water and snapping some photos, we split up into smaller groups and hiked our way up to the peak (1928meters). Upon reaching the peak, a rocky, but accessible point, we connected to a ridge-pass, overlooking the beautiful panorama of the Swiss Alps on one side, the Italian Alps on the other (with a view of the French Alps/Mont Blanc off in the distance.) After roughly 7 1/2 hours of hiking that ridge, we finally arrived at Monte Lema (Malcantone), where we took another gondola back down the mountain, which lucky included a bus-ride back to the original gondola station as well!

Over some 15 hours of hiking in those 2 days, I didn't do too much talking or listening. (In fact, the group with whom I was hiking spoke in German the whole time, which I didn't even try to comprehend!) Instead, I took in the fresh air...the beauty in every step, and in every photo-op...as well as the time to reflect upon my trip to Europe. How lucky I was to be here, right then and there, I thought!

Of course, part of me craved for REAL company as I looked upon these gorgeous sights in silence. This shouldn't have surprised me though; after all, not only a social-character and hopeless-romantic, but I suppose that whenever someone sees or experiences such beautiful things, he or she is likely to feel a sudden rush of loneliness. Some people have named this a "desiring for the Divine in nature," but I called it homesickness. For the first time, I really missed having my friends around to enjoy the adventure - to appreciate the view. Had I been laughing uncontrollably, or passionately making-out up on that mountain, I would have felt less "lonely..." but then again...would I have SEEN as much? I suppose not.

Not much later afterwards though - in February 2010 (luckily hitting upon my 25th birthday) I had a second view of the Alps, and just like the first time around, I had found myself in the right place at the time...

That is, since the private school where I work often puts on week-long "enrichment" trips with students (at one place or another, for one subject of study or another) adult company is a hot commodity. Fortunately for me, most of my collegues were married and were too busy with their children, rendering them "unavailable" to go on this one particular trip to supervise the 9th graders. Subsequently, I had been asked to serve as a supervisor/support for the February skiing trip at La Plagne ski-station, in South-East France...and not only was this a free trip...but it was PAID !!! HAHA!!! Too good to be true!!! A great birthday surprise after all...

And this time the view of the Alps was quite different! The snow-covered mountain-peaks and pointy pines were hardly recognizable from the previous August...the smoothed-over, white-capped ski trails shone with brilliance under the sun...and I imagined myself to be gliding over huge snow-cones...

Down at one ski-lodge not so far away from where we were staying, there was an outdoor-heated-pool which I was determined to test out. All my collegues laughed at me, saying it was "SO AMERICAN" of me to have come prepared with a bathingsuit, to which I said "hells yeah! you bet your ass I'm gettin' in that pool!" And that's what I did. Peace...relaxation...overlooking gorgeous views...surely a wonderful birthday surprise.

The 9th graders weren't too much of a hassle in the end, either. In fact, I didn't have to supervise them all that much since they were forced to take ski/snowboaring classes from 9 to 5 each day. This meant that I was free to ski, or to do whatever I wanted, with a couple of exceptions. For one, I had to be "on call" (in case of emergency/sickness) each and every afternoon. Secondly, I had to be on 2-hours of lunch-supervision during the afternoon, and later, at 10pm, I had to ensure that the kiddies were getting into bed (which was pretty awkward for me for I already hated playing "policewoman/cop-lady" in class with the kids, let alone disciplining them in the Alps while they were are all dressed in their jammies!)

The highlight of "lunch and dinner supervision" was that I was able to sit down and eat gourmet cafeteria-food amongst the professors rather than WITH the students...which means there was very little "supervision" (from our separate "professor table." lol) Twice, we professors were treated by the ski station to a lovely dinner and dessert, and the professors had organized some terrific wine-tasting and distribution (which unfortunately, I had no part in buying or sharing since I had no idea this was acceptable on a "school trip.") The "raquette" du fromage was my favorite (you melt little triangular cutlets of cheese & place them onto peeled & boiled potatos along with a selection of fine charcuterie & cold-cuts...numnum, real "meat & potatos" style. Yet, aside from the prepared dinners, the cafeteria was pretty well-stalked (with the exception of their boisson/drink selection....yuuk). I made myself a salad each meal, for which I was again ridiculed for being "SO AMERICAN" having mixed my greens with cheese, and fruit and nuts...I told them they didn't know what they were missing out on & assured them it's not so "very" AMERICAN either.

But frankly - it was all worth it! Thank goodness for the French esteem (and private educational institution) to foster and nourish "culturally-enriched" students and teachers...such trips really allow for growth beyond the classroom.

La Rentrée (a.k.a. back to School!)

The days leading up to my first work-experience as a "religious culture" teacher in Strasbourg, France were the scariest and most stressful days of my life; the first and most obvious reason for my nervousness was that my French was not NEARLY good enough to speak in public, let alone to TEACH in the language! Since I had been living the life of a poor balcony-monk -literally- (without T.V, radio, friends or conversation) I had become very insecure about my speaking abilities! My only contact with the French language at this point had been with the books I had loaned on "religion" (which frankly bored me to death considering their poor quality) and Rousseau's EMILE (whose language-difficulty-level forced me to give up on it before too soon).

Secondarily, yet perhaps more fundamentally, my lack of confidence and motivation resulting from the recent break-up with C put a damper on my ability to progress and motivate myself anew; I hadn't been able to clear my mind of its emotional distress, and I was still feeling hopelessly romantic and miserable, awaiting word from him...awaiting closure...

If only I had been teaching something more familiar - (say - ENGLISH!?!) - I would have been less worried in general, but knowing that I'd have to communicate sensitive detail, regarding delicate and controversial issues- and to a classroom-full of middle-school and high-school aged students...I knew I was up for some kind of hell...and that I SURELY WAS!!!! :-)

Nightmares haunted me each night, and my days were wraught with one mindless preparatory task after the next - lots of mindless details. My formal "training sessions" with the woman I was to replace at the job-site was very kind, and reassuring, but our tutorial sessions were not all that helpful to clarify what the job would be like. I had a million un-anwerable questions:

1) what were my students going to be like? how will they think of me? will they understand me? will they laugh? how should I react?
2) what will my collegues be like? will I fit in with the other adults? will I make friends? what if I don't?
3) will I be able to manage teaching a material of which I have little to no experience or knowledge? what would it take to get fired? will I be fired for incompetance? what will they think of me? what will they think of Americans?
4) how shall I begin? how shall I proceed? how shall I discipline? will I make it through this school year?

So many questions cannot be answered, and I knew this too...but nothing could have prevented me from thinking about the endless negative possibilities; the numbers I counted-out were dizzying, leaving me breathless. Yet in hoping to be SOMEWHAT productive, I sought answers to as many practical concerns as possible, such as: what is the appropriate dress-code? who do I contact in case of x or y? How does the scheduling work? (For I had been forewarned that I would be working on a rotating schedule (week-1) and (week 2)...each week entailing 17 different classes of students.

I knew what texts I would be using, and had outlined a rough sketch as to how I would manage the material, late that summer:

1 preselected text for la classe 2nde (equivalent to 10th grade) on "religious questions facing the world, a different pre-selected text for 3e (9th grade-age) on "Religions and practices of the East," and a third and final text for the 8th grade, on "Sacred spaces and customs..."

Finally, "La prérentrée" was scheduled 2 days before the first day of classes, a.k.a. "la rentrée," wherein I was to be introduced before a burning-hot auditorium of future-collegues. Standing up for applause and welcome I had turned a DEEP-BEET RED. As sweat beads rolled down my back, I waved quickly and smiled, before sitting myself down again. I had never ever known myself to be so timid in my life...(at least not since I was 5 years old!) Looking back in retrospect, the majority of that day was a blur to me, for it went by so quickly. I shook over 100 persons' hands, including other "newbies" and I received a pile of papers to lugg home, including my "emploi du temps" - my work schedule!

Little did I know that I'd be teaching 556 students: "lucky me," I thought...("556 Students ALL TO MYSELF...WHAT HELL WILL CORRECTIONS AND GRADING PROVE TO BE!") Yet, I couldn't panick just yet, the first day of classes were just ahead.

In addition to shaking many hands and receiving lots of reading "homework" that afternoon, I was given a final preview-tour of the (renovated) "on-site" working conditions. Although I had bragged to C about my impressive interview in the Cathedrale at Strasbourg back one month prior, I was even more impressed by the PRIME conditions at the school where I'd be teaching. REALLY. MINT. TV-series-worthy...I mean...this school was too proper for a young and clueless American girl. I was a bit intimidated to say in the least...

Then the first day of school came all too quickly; although I had been waiting for what seemed like forever for the day to arrive earlier that summer. I got to school over an hour too early, in case I'd have last-minute problems to work out...which probably looked REALLY silly. I was there before anyone else - including the secretaries who had commented on my timeliness that morning.

I had 7 keys, and needed to figure out where my classrooms were, since for each class I'd be scattered from one room to the next...and luckily, I did not get lost once.

I made out questionnaires for every student, and had prepared a little introductory speech of my own, which was probably a mistake, looking back. SO MANY students looked wide-eyed and surprised to have such a young, and foreign teacher...while staring at me, dumbfounded, I'm sure they were thinking the following: "I thought this class was a joke BEFORE, but now it's REALLY a joke with her up there!"

Yet, I shouldn't complain; the first day was not the worst to come...

Plus, I really appreciated the kids' predispositioned class-room behavior: not a one of them sat down until I asked them to do so (I've never seen that before and didn't even know what the hell was going on when I had a bunch of students standing before me!) Not only this, but I couldn't help but take notice of the fact that every student had come prepared with cute little pouches, which they had placed on their desks - wherein they kept all their pens, pencils, rulers, white-out...their EVERYTHING. I realized that these kids were well-trained!!!!!

Between classes, I tried to relax myself until the next bell would ring. I tell you, (to this day) whenever the school-bell rings, I get major-butterflies in the pit of my stomach...(and I should note here that it is no tradition "bell," buzzer nor "ring" - for "bell" plays the melody of children's song...) AH! Scary!

Even when I was a KID I wasn't really a KID. I wasn't too fond of children's songs, toys, stuffed animals, or children's games; I resented being asked to take a nap or to watch Sesame Street...and I suppose things haven't changed too much!

Though I cannot say that I dislike children or children's "things" I cannot understand nor appreciate them as well as one should think; after all, teachers often LOVE children, and babysitters usually ADORE them.

But, nahhh...not so much for me...

WHY TEACH? WHY BABYSIT? One may ask...

My response would be this: teaching is a way to have a voice, to take the lead, to share and promote ideas. Teaching is learning, as it allows for the greatest of opportunities - in ASKING QUESTIONS (my life-long favorite activity!) Not only this but teaching allows for a life-style of which I am particularly fond; an unpredictably daily life, always keeping you on your toes, with a schedule that does not run on from 9-to-5 predictable schedule (I do not like predictability when it comes to the day-to-day goings-on, for I personally have no REAL rhythms nor patterns). Finally, I really appreciate the community-feeling of the academic scence...just having a network of people with whom I can discuss things that matter/raise intellectual questions means the world to me.

(Babysitting, on the other hand, is usually pretty good cash on the side...and is really flexible for a person whose schedule changes CONSTANTLY) and, I figure: hell, if I EVER THINK about having children, I ought to know how terrible kids can be before the temptation even arises! :-)

I'll get back to just HOW terrible children can be...in my next entry...