(ferocious!)

As previously decided (see the post below), Thursday was a good day.

I love it when my lesson takes on a life of its own and connects that much more effectively with my little learners. I hadn't seen my CP class in about a month, what with their trips to the pool in late March and my 20-day Spring break (hey, now--I can see that eye-roll. Oh, fine, you're right--it is ridiculous.). The long hiatus plus the fact that six-year-olds don't tend to retain a whole lot when you only see them once per week freed me of any hesitation to hit the animal kingdom again with them.

Out came my animal picture cards. We'd just learned about "good," "bad," and "okay" talking about their vacations, and when I queried, "Are you ready to learn about animals?" I was met with a grinning and thumbs-upped "GOOD!" Well, I had to smile that at least they got the general idea of that one. So we moved on, but not before Maël urgently raised her hand (I expected her to ask if she could go to the bathroom) and announced, "Moi, j'aime tous les animaux sauf les plus féroces, parce qu'ils me font trop peur. Comment dit-on féroce en anglais?"

"I like all the animals except the most ferocious ones, because they're too scary. How do you say ferocious in English?"

I had planned to review the animal names and get the kids listening for words they recognized within more complex sentences by asking "Do you like lions/cows/etc?" But the kids were so electrified by this new word, ferocious! (pronounced with the exclamation point), that I went with that instead.

Is the BIRD ferocious?

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Is the LION ferocious?

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"

Is the CAT ferocious?

"OOKAAAY!" (Their best approximation of "sometimes")

Who knows how many of the animals they'll remember. I've long resigned myself to the fact that my job with them has to be getting them excited about English and getting their brains hearing and imitating its sounds in preparation for next year. Thus, vocabulary retention is more of a happy byproduct than a primary goal.

I have a feeling one of the few words that might stick, though, is "ferocious!" During recess most of that class could be heard yelling "ferocious!" at each other and miming the scary animals. Of all the words for six-year-olds to know in a foreign language... Sure, someone will painstakingly re-teach them how to introduce themselves and remind them of the colors next Fall. But I like to think that I gave them "ferocious!" and imagine next year's English teacher chuckling curiously to him/herself upon hearing it proffered as proof of Maël's passion for the English language.

:)

(plus belle la vie)

I snatched the title of this post from a French soap opera that I've never seen and probably never will (it doesn't come on one of our three TV channels). I have, however, become familiar with the tones of passionate devotion in which most of my 11-year-old students pronounce it. These girls love this show, and it's rare to hear them talk about the most recent plot twist without at least one heavy, contagious sigh making its rounds among them. The show moves their souls.

This morning, I woke up before my alarm and feeling good--about the classes I'll teach soon, the tea I'm currently drinking, the sunshine brightening the apartment, the Skype date set for this afternoon... More than that, even, I'm up feeling chipper as I recall good conversations and reconnections from the last couple of weeks, excited about finding time to read good books, and yes, even feeling for the first time in a long while that I've got a couple of writing projects bumbling around up my sleeve.

There is, of course, plenty that could damper my morning spirit (what the hell I am going to do with my life after June, for example), but today it's not going to happen. I decided. To quote the illustrious George W., "I'm the decider" and I think I've made a very wise decision.

Nope, this morning I've decided to borrow the bright eyes and keen interest that my devoted students accord to the show whose title translates to "Life, more beautiful" with one adjustment--I'll appropriate their admirable fervor to my own life, more beautiful today for the good start it's off to.

(teaser)

I've been in a strange fog of adjustment since arriving in Rodez from Dublin early this morning. My body is certainly back in Aveyron, but my mind and (dare I say it) my heart are still in Ireland.

Seeing something new is always invigorating. Throw in spectacular natural beauty, good company, excellent timing, a small car, adventurous spirits, a couple hundred baby lambs, several pints and a dash of poetry--there's not much more you can ask of a Spring break.

I'm still in the process of managing the photos. Looking through them, I can hardly believe the week I just wound up. I'm completely knackered at the moment, so it's not the time for a giant picture or adventure re-cap. It is, however, the time for me to avow my strengthening attachment to the Irish poet W.B. Yeats (a rediscovery that began the night of the last post, when I devoured a borrowed anthology of his poetry waiting for the sunrise).

I didn't realize it, but that spark of connection to the poet fell in perfectly with my approaching trip, and my Irish experience was far richer for it. Our very first real stop, in fact, was Coole Park (click here)-- the setting for Yeats' poem The Wild Swans at Coole. I wouldn't have thought of stopping there on our way to Galway, but I lucked out having an astute Yeats-lover for a driver who did think of it and got us there. The serenity of the park and lake under a bright, dripping sky quietly astounded me, and set the pace for a week of frequent, soul-soothing and soul-stirring beauty. That said, it's no wonder the Irish have such a rich cultural heritage.

The Wild Swans at Coole

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Under their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the aire;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away.

W.B. Yeats