(two holiday tales)

Last week I asked all my classes about how they spent their vacations. Here is a rough break-down of their responses:

Went to see Grandparents: 52%
Went skiing: 24%
Had sleepovers/went to birthday parties: 14%
Stayed home/played video games: 9%

The very astute among you will have noticed that 1% of my students is still unaccounted for. It's English class name is Homer (after the Simpsons character, of course), and his vacation-relation went like this:

Me: Did you have a GOOD vacation or a BAD vacation?
Homer: uhh...okay.
Me: What did you do?
Homer (pronounced with the cool nonchalance of an Aveyronnais hooligan-in-training): Behn....j'ai embêté des poules.

To which I react with un-masterable, if quiet laughter. In English, "Homer's" declaration was "Ehh... I bothered some chickens."

***

Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to bother any chickens over vacation, but I did manage to get into some great mischief of my own in England, and more specifically, in Bath. Here are some pictures to prove it.

There was a speed limit of 4 knots here, on the river Avon, just by the Parade Gardens. As there were no boats in sight, I assume it was a warning to the ducks.

Pulteney Bridge, and another view of the gray weather we started out with.

Outside the famous Pump Room. When Jane Austen was writing and Bath was the social center of the day, the Pump Room is where people to socialize and drink the mineral water from the spring over which the spa was built. (The Romans were the first ones to have baths here, thus the name of the town.) In a fun twist of coincidence, I read Austen's Persuasion for the first time on my way to England, and really enjoyed getting to experience the places where the story took place. Like the Pump Room.

And here we have the famous pump in it's room. It brings up warm mineral water (once renowned for its healing properties) so that people can "enjoy" drinking it while benefiting from the sophisticated atmosphere of the restaurant and its society.

"Enjoy" in that last caption was in quotation marks because it's not an especially delectable experience, drinking the Bath Spa waters. It's lukewarm and, well, you can definitely tell that there are plenty of minerals in it. For a video of the water bubbling away just on the other side of the window, scroll down. I don't know why the website won't let me put the video where I want.

D'yon and I rewarded ourselves for drinking our healthy water with my first Fish and Chips for lunch! It was totally delicious, and gleefully washed down with a Bath ale. British English lesson for the day: Chips = Fries, and Crisps = Chips.

On Gay Street, which is a steepish road that leads up towards the Royal Crescent, you can find the Jane Austen Centre, complete with costumed doorman. Austen lived here for a while, as did some of her Characters.

The Royal Crescent is uphill from Gay Street, and is a residential half-circle road. People still live here, in apartments and such. The houses look out across Royal Victoria Park, where D'yon and I got into all kinds of outdoor fun. Notice the sun coming out.

Peek-a-boo windows looking through a tree on the Royal Crescent.

One of the coolest trees ever. We found it on the way into the park where we ambled and played. If it wasn't on private property, we'd have totally been trying to walk the balance beam that is the bottom branch.

As it turns out, though, we weren't lacking for playground equipment. The sun came out in full force just as we discovered this amazing playground--complete with toys we'd never seen before like this spinning version of a see-saw. All D'yon and I needed was a daddy to push us in circles--but bouncing around was quite enough fun.

Look, I'm climbing! How cool is it that the toys on this playground were plenty big for grown-ups? And if you're thinking of a snide remark about me not really being grown-up-sized, it was all big enough for D'yon, too :P

I leave you with this photo of D'yon's and my "Titanic Pose" once we got to the top of the climbing web.

A day of sunshine, mineral water, fish and chips, Jane Austen, tea time, playgrounds and a long-lost Parisian roommate is a good one in anyone's book, I would venture to say. In mine, it's a spectacular one. Look for more posts with glimpses into our forays in Lyme Regis, Bristol, Cardiff, and London!

May you have many days as lovely as the one these pictures are from!

Oh, and don't forget to check out the video of the water we drank here. Appetizing, no? You can hear the music of the Pump Room, and there's a special cameo at the end!

(happy birthday ode)

I have more than my fair share of amazing people in my life--a fact that, when remembered on one's birthday, ensures that said birthday will be a happy one. I am humbled by the presence and caring of the extraordinary individuals that love me and let me share their lives with them.

I can't help but think immediately of my parents. Starting today 23 years ago, they both began the intense labor of loving and raising a child who doesn't always appreciate the sacrifices they've made for her. It's a testament to the constancy of their love that I could ever take it for granted--but I'm slowly learning not to.

My grandparents and other dear extended family have supported my interests and dreams just because I belong to them. They've loved me since before I remember being a person, and always let me know how proud they were of me, whether I felt I deserved it or not. Their unquestioning support has given me courage to trust myself and pursue my own path even when it leads me far from home.

My little brother who's not so little any more is becoming a man to be depended on--and I do depend on him. Our years of rivalry have fizzled out over time and lots of distance, but knowing that this guy will always be part of my life, until we're really old, is one of the most comforting things I can think of. He's my ally.

My few but precious long-haul friends are pretty much--scratch that--just plain up there with family. We've had the reassuring pleasure of discovering by now that our friendships have a stronger base than common interests and circumstances, as we have all gone through several incarnations of both. We have the freedom to watch each other change without fearing alienation and we fall right back into easy interactions when we cross paths, even as adulthood ensures that those paths become increasingly divergent. They are my necessary anchors, who have taught me about constancy and unconditional love.

Roommates who are friends are one of the best things in my life, ever. I have to marvel at the great luck I've had, randomly falling in with people who have turned into near souls, as well as proximate bodies. These are the ones who have crawled over to hold my hand on the kitchen floor as I screamed and cried into the phone, the ones who would bring me a souvenir stick from the first day of Spring, who would set their alarm for 3:30 a.m. without being asked to make sure I really did get up to finish that term paper, who would help justify worthwhile procrastination, sing songs on repeat with me, and who have trusted me to occupy the same role in their own daily lives for a spell.

Smack in the middle of a second year in France, I have accumulated a few friends whom I suppose I could label the foreigners. Much like the roommate friends, we were thrown in together by random circumstance and usually bonded quickly through shared travel fiascos and a sense of co-adventuring and discovery. There's nothing like a facing a night-train horror or a pig foot in the Frenchies' refrigerator for a couple months to bring people together. They share parts of my life that none of the other people I've mentioned do, and make far-away places feel like home. Plus, they keep me on my toes--mentally, culturally, grammatically, and personally.

I have benefited enormously from the great teacher/mentors in my life. Unlike my family, these people have no real "obligation" to take an interest in providing for my development. They have made sacrifices of time, space, and energy to share their experience's wisdom with me, in addition to living lives that demand my respect and make me trust their advice. A few have been around for quite a while, sharing everything from guest bedrooms to recipes to advice and encouragement, and have lent sympathetic ears to often immature musings/perceived injustices on my part with patience.

For all of this and all of you, I am humbled and thankful. And had a happy birthday largely because I remembered to reflect on these extraordinary blessings.

Pictures and England tales to come very shortly.

(sheepish return)

I can't believe it's been almost two months since my last update (ok, ok, a month and a half--but February is shorter)--and it's been far too long.

My life since New Years had been rather quiet up until last week, a fact on which I can place teensy bit of the blame for not having written. However, most of the blame for my "absence" rests on me and the fact that I just wasn't in the mood to write. I wasn't taking tons of pictures, and wasn't doing much out of the ordinary--just traipsing along, contentedly buried in routine and many layers of clothing.

There were a few moments of interest, however. Here's of them to bait you into remembering my blog, as the appetizer for the on-its-way post that will be full of pictures and stories from my trip to England (!!!). And yes, in case you weren't clear, I just took a 9-day trip in the middle of February because the French schools were quite naturally on holiday. Again.

Anyway, onto a short Rodez outtake:

This one is called (a southern soul grows up, sort of).

A couple of weeks ago, I had a totally foreign experience, which my northern friends will laugh at and my southern ones will struggle to fathom. I woke up on a Tuesday morning, dreading the chill that would too-soon succeed my exit from bed. I got out anyway, knowing that some of my most difficult classes were counting on me, and bumped down to the floor between my bed and radiator, heavy under that knowledge mingling with remnants of still-real dreams. Sitting with my back to the radiator in the mornings has become my ritual concession to the rough transition into the cold, waking world. As I sidled up against the heat, I struggled to focus on my surroundings and I soon noticed the roof across the street. I see it every morning, and it was usually black. This morning, though, it was white, and the fuzziness outside wasn't entirely due to my bleary eyes. No, it was snowing. And here's where the story gets worth telling: For the first time in my life, my spirits sank at this realization. No childlike glee for a pretty rarity anywhere. Can you imagine? Oh, don't be sad--I'm sure that there will be plenty of other gleeful snow-finds in my future. But the grown-up southern soul has realized what many of the colder climes have long known--that sometimes, snow just means dampness and slippery sidewalks on the way to a chilly school building. The funny thing about life that I remembered here is that it's really amazing, how our own insides can take us by surprise and buck a life-long attitude in an instant.

But I don't think that's a bad thing to realize. A malleable soul is an asset, I suppose--because it won't always go in the direction of a disappointment. :)

So, that's all for now, folks! Come look soon, for there will be many photos and more enchanting stories than this last one.

(frohes fest)

Ferris wheel at a lingering Weihnachtsmarkt in Berlin (Alexanderplatz)

Well, I'm right where I left off--"home" in Rodez, gearing up for classes. Though, in typical, curious French fashion, I was informed this morning by my roommate that I didn't need to go into my first class today. Apparently when she called in sick, the principal very cheerily wished her Happy New Year and told her to tell me I didn't have to come in, either. Only God knows why, but you're getting a blog post out of my free hour, so no harm done (not that getting time off is ever really harmful...).

Though I'm exactly where I left you a few weeks ago, I wasn't here the entire time--thankfully. No, despite exercises in combat with the French bureaucracy, public transportation strikes, lost baggage and a broken-down train, I've been to Berlin and back. Anne's family was gracious enough to welcome me back to their home and into all of their Christmas/birthday/New Year's celebrations this year, and I'm terribly grateful to have had a family (if not mine) and friends to spend the holidays with. Rodez is great, but I was quite ready for a break and happy to reconnect with people who have known me longer than 3 months. Not to mention that I got to experience a totally new style of holidays in Germany--and let me say, from what I saw, they do it right. Anne's mom, Kerstin, had her 50th birthday on the 24th (the main celebration day in Europe), so before the extensive Christmas celebrations could even begin, we feted Kerstin's life with a giant party on the 23rd. By the time the party was cleaned up on the 24th, we had just enough time to celebrate Kerstin's real birthday with a coffee and then transition to the family room for the Heiligabend gift exchange. Then, naturally, there were guests over for games and then another party for the young'uns into the wee hours. By the time it arrived, we were all quite ready for the 25th, ie "Couch Day" at the Kutzner's. This involved watching movies that the Weihnachtsmann (Santa) had brought the night before and otherwise gathering energy for the continued celebrations and moving to come. We spent a day with Anne's aunt, uncle, and cousins on the 26th, re-celebrating with the new group of people, exchanging more gifts, drinking, and playing video games and then spent a few days moving people around--Anne's room in Greifswald and painting/assembling Ikea items at the new apartment of some friends of Anne's (and mine, by now :-). And suddenly, it was time for New Year's. I flew back to Toulouse on the morning of the 1st and have been here since, mostly napping and doing some intensive cleaning in the apartment.

My time in Germany was amazing, and I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend Christmas away from home. Especially since the invention of Skype. I have been continually astonished at and grateful for the warm, complete hospitality of the people I know in Berlin because of Anne. I'll be happy to see them again when I go back to fly to the States this summer...but I'm not going to think about that right now, because I have NO idea what I'll be doing with my life by then. Again. ;-)

Now, enjoy the pictures:

Happily seated in a sunset-side seat on my flight from Toulouse to Amsterdam.

Kerstin lighting the Christmas tree candles on Heiligabend.

They told me that someone is always Weihnachtsmann and hands out the gifts from a big sack. Naturally, it was my year to be him. Whether this is really tradition or they were enjoying the foreigner, I'm not quite sure...

My surrogate Christmas family--Anne, me, Kerstin, and Bernd. Anne's brother Robert took the picture.

*Trying* to sing along to 80's German pop on Sing Star with Anne's little cousin, Nick. The only one that went sort-of okay was 99 Luftballons.

Cathi, Conrad, Anne and I went to a Christmas market at Alexanderplatz one afternoon to eat 1/2 meter Bratwurst (in my hand), drink Glühwein (mulled wine), and ride carnival rides.

The Glühwein-drinking, this time out of little boot mugs. It's really amazing how much of the delicious stuff I'd had by the time I left.

Me, only half-way bundled up for the freezing bike ride (which didn't actually end up being very fast and windy, since I couldn't really reach the pedals on Anne's old bike) to the other Anne's house for New Year's Eve. The light on my head was for the bike, as well as fashion, natürlich. Anne's mom had to button me into my coat at the end, like a little over-bundled child.

Ok, if you think mulled wine is yummy, wait till I tell you about this drink. It's called Feuerzangenbowle and it's yummy, festive, and flammable! You basically make Glühwein in a pot and then put this sugar cone over it, douse the sugar in rum, and...

...set it on FIRE! The sugar burns and caramelizes, then drips into the wine. I don't know why on earth we don't do this in America. I think I'm going to start.

We had Cheese and Chocolate fondue for dinner as we waited for the 2009. Delicious.

Finally, we all bundled up again to watch the neighborhood fireworks at midnight. We lucked out, as Anne G's neighbors went all out with their firework purchases and provided a good show. You could see fireworks all over, since it's so flat there, and I also learned about Himmelslaterne, which are basically floating blimp-like lanterns. Quite a nice way to ring in the new year--Anne G and Jana even hummed along to Auld Lang Syne with me :)

(kids)

I've had a nasty cold all week, but as I could breathe with at least one nostril today, I decided I should drag my weary, sad self to classes and do my best to dispense a bit of Christmas cheer to my students.

The morning was a bit of a rough go, but by the afternoon I had a few moments of sweetness that shone through what seemed to be a veritable swamp of crazed, almost-Christmas-vacation student behavior. I'm sure any teachers out there know what I'm talking about. Somehow, despite trying to yell over misbehaving voices with no real voice to speak of and watching the snow melt (sad), I came home enjoying the impression that the day had left on me, mainly due to two "breather" moments.

Moment number one:

I had the little CPs today (that's first graders), who generally always put me in a good mood. This day's sweet happening was the spontaneous and overwhelming desire of my kids to explain how Santa gets into each of their houses on Christmas eve. I went with it and let each kid share--it is, after all, almost Christmas, and I don't want to be a classtime scrooge, do I? I heard plenty of explanations:

"I don't have a chimney, so Santa just comes in the front door!"
"Well, at my house, he doesn't come in the front door--he just climbs up a big ladder to my balcony!"
"I hope Santa doesn't try to come down the chimney like the other years because this time there's glass in it!"
"We don't have a balcony or a chimney, so Mom says Santa has to climb in the window!"

My favorite one of all, though, was a little girl with big, believing eyes who explained quite matter-of-factly:

"Well, I think our windows are too small and since we live in an apartment he can't come in the front door (he doesn't know the code), so I just don't know how he does it but the best part is that he comes in and leaves the presents all the same!"

Moment number two:

Immediately following that class I had CE2s, the third graders. This is one of my most talkative classes, and they were in rare form today. I was doing oral evaluations in the hallway and trying to keep an eye on them while they bickered and complained and interrupted. They were really awful, and I was nothing short of pissed. Because of their behavior, we didn't have time for me to read 'Twas the night before Christmas' to them as I'd planned. (You may think it odd that I would read that poem to kids whose most recent challenging English lesson was on colors. It might be, but given that I'm sick, they're crazy, and they don't really hear the flow of English very often, I decided it was an acceptable part of a Christmas lesson.) With my other classes, I passed out coloring sheets, had them repeat and write "Merry Christmas," and then introduced the poem. I told them not to worry about understanding it, but encouraged them instead to listen to the pretty rhymes in English while they colored. In every class, I was pleasantly surprised at how well it went over. The students would settle in with their markers, and I would proceed with an expressive reading of the poem to a completely silent, enthralled audience. Again, those who have ever dealt with several kids at a time know how rare that can be. So back to my CE2s. Flustered at the end of class, I told them they could all go to recess, and as an afterthought threw out the option of staying in and listening to the poem if they wanted. I then went to their teacher to discuss the oral evals and got caught up in a bit of chit-chat. One student, Pablo, came and tugged at my sleeve. Now, you should know that Pablo was probably the most disruptive student of the day, and he'd gotten a special lecture from me already. I turned to him with an exasperated "oui?" I expected him to start explaining away his actions again, but was thrown off guard when he said, "Maîtresse, don't forget--we're waiting for the poem in the other room."

After 45 minutes of deplorable comportment, it was refreshing to smile at Pablo and find 6 of my students, pencil cases and notebooks in laps, waiting calmly for me to come back and read to them. During recess, no less! I happily picked up my sheet and began my hoarse recitation to an enraptured audience of kids who had no earthly idea what I was talking about. A couple kids even wandered in from the hallway to listen. By the time I was finished, I could hardly reconcile the recent classtime frustration with the sweet faces grinning at me. "You were right!" Cassandra exclaimed, and Mathieu and Valentin chimed in, saying "Yeah, I didn't understand it, but it sounded really nice!" and the quintessential French compliment "Pas mal (not bad)."

Sometimes I think there's an automatic emergency brake in the minds of all kids--just when they've done their worst and you're ready to swear off of them forever, their safety feature kicks in with something cute or curious or funny and keeps you on their side. This is very good for the welfare of mischievous children, as far as I'm concerned. I'll try to keep this in mind as I think about going to my more difficult schools tomorrow morning...

('tis the season)

(feasts)

Yesterday's belated Thanksgiving celebration was a total success : ) The food was every bit delicious, and (just as importantly) abundant. The smells, tastes, and company more than made up for the hassles of preparing for the day.

The giant feast of yesterday was the second fête in a series of three assistant get-togethers planned in the span of just a week! Tuesday, Simon hosted a celebration of St. Andrew's Day and treated us to some Scottish specialties--specifically haggis, neeps (turnips), tatties (potatoes), truffles, and some nice scotch (which the Scottish just call whiskey, as it turns out). My contribution was a caramel apple pie, below. Since the pie was so classically American for a Scottish dinner, I attempted to bring it into theme with a little Scottish flag. Can you find it?

Little cooking haggis balls. Click here to read about it--it's surprisingly tasty, and everyone enjoyed it! This kind was in plastic, rather than sheep stomach, though--I guess the owners of the British specialties shop weren't allowed to bring back the stomach-wrapped variety ;)

There's the spread--Haggis, neeps, tatties, and if you look carefully you can see an orange cream-like soda called Irn Bru which is typically Scottish and full of caffeine.

Moving on to yesterday's American Thanksgiving extravaganza! Check out that table--I was totally impressed with everyone's contributions. We had just about everything, which was no small accomplishment! The hardest-to-come-by items were probably the cranberry sauce and the turkey, but they made it! Also, since this is my blog and all, I'm going to go ahead and say that I was pretty proud of the turkey, homemade bread, and pumpkin pies I contributed. Totally worth all the time and effort--even the clean-up afterwards.

Desserts! The dessert "options" were as bountiful as the main dishes. Options is in quotation marks because I think everyone had some of every dessert--there was no need to make a choice! You can see pumpkin pie, haribo gummies, walnut tart, and two apple-plum crumbles in this picture, but there was also panna cotta with fresh raspberry sauce and chocolate coconut truffles. In line with tradition, everyone's entire afternoon was dedicated to slowly wearing through the copious food supply. What a great day's work!

The pictures of the food above this one are the before pictures, this one is the during picture...

...And here's after. Limited space resulted in us storing our plates under the coffee table. Why didn't we just take them to the kitchen, you ask? Let me respond with another question: What would we have done for seconds and thirds between game rounds if we did that?

And finally, the closest to a group shot we could get in the smallish room. Hard not to notice that our choice in pants was not nearly as distinctive as the dishes we all brought, though...

So--two feasts down, one proper English tea party to go. I'm sure it will be lovely.

(turkey toting)

Tomorrow is Thanksmas for the assistants in Rodez, and it's going to be amazing. It better be, anyway--after all the anticipation, planning, and turkey-related goose chases (ironic, I know).

Today I finally picked up the turkey--quite a victory in itself, considering all the butchers I went to and inquiries I made, and even a called-in favor from one of my teachers to procure it! It should be delicious-- unless something goes amiss, of course. But let's hope not--this is a fresh, never frozen turkey that should just fit in our oven. The idea of our apartment filled with friends and the scent of roasting turkey was what I had to think about on my way home (via a school on the other side of town where a teacher had a roasting pan for me to borrow) with the 3 kilo bird. The hour-long walk around town in the middle of a defeating hail/rain/thunder/lightening storm with a turkey in one hand and giant pans in the other, my teaching bag on one shoulder and my jeans soaked up to my knees... it was quite a journey we took, the elusive French turkey and me. I am finally drying out and chilling out for a bit before I start the Thanksmas preparations this evening. And OH so thankful for my warm bed :)

I'm sure there will be pictures soon.

('appy fahnksgeeveeng)

Just pronounce the title phonetically, and you'll get an idea of the "Happy Thanksgivings" I've been getting from my students this week! (Or watch Capucine again and imagine her saying it.)

I have really enjoyed teaching my students about Thanksgiving--none of them had ever heard of it before, and it's refreshing to present such a nice part of American culture to everyone. (There was a brief interlude of guilt when one of my fifth graders asked me if Thanksgiving was to celebrate the European massacre of the Indians for their land...I'm always surprised by what my kids have heard about and don't always know how to respond in the context of the lesson.) The best moment so far was hearing the giggling, amazed 6-year-olds behind me as I put the finishing touches on the hand-turkey I drew on the board for them. I was surprised by how into turkey-drawing they got, energized by this totally foreign art form that American kids know practically from birth. Otherwise, it's been fun hearing what they're thankful for--from red fish to puppies to siblings to winning the race last week to birthday parties (and lots of nintendos).

I'm thankful for things, too--and here's a sample from my life since moving to Rodez:

-Skype
-Packages from home
-Good legs for Rodez transport
-A stranger-flatmate who turned out not to be crazy, mean, dirty or loud
-Mulled wine
-Radiators
-Helpful butchers (I finally found a turkey today!)
-Lots of sleep and free time
-Enthusiastic students (no--seriously, my littlest ones jumped up and cheered when I announced that we still had three minutes left today!)
-Scarves
-Dinner parties
-Did I mention radiators?

And for now, that's it. I've got to get to bed so I can be the best bright-eyed, bushy-tailed American possible for the last round of Thanksgiving classes tomorrow.

Hope you all had a great, grateful day! Think of me when you enjoy that leftover turkey sandwich tomorrow.

(brr)

Here's something I love about winter (which has definitively arrived in Rodez): I love coming home at the end of the day and breaking free from layers. It's a furtive activity, and I usually go about it with as much urgency as the kid who starts taking their pants off en route to the bathroom. It's such a release to dial up the radiator and absorb heat in my hoodie and leggings, rather than bind up every part of me (especially the sad little toes) in a semi-successful attempt to trap the bits of heat I produce on my own.

Today, in addition to the excellent (near) disrobing after a frigid, productive day, I put on a pot of coffee just for me, cozied up on the clic-clac with my knitting (I know, I know), and have been contentedly wiggling my toes ever since; It's as delicious as a cup of mulled wine after hours at a drizzly winter rugby match. :-)

In honor of today's chilly weather, I'm posting some pictures from the first snow in Rodez. For a southerner and a Colombian, even this slight dusting was quite an event!

The town cathedral. It's almost at the summit of the hill/town, and a convenient way for newcomers to orient themselves.

Poor flower market. That vendor must have been a trooper!

Sandra (the roommate) touching the very first snow she ever saw. We had quite the gleeful time that morning as the rest of the ruthénois (people from Rodez) carried about their business with sour expressions and carefully-placed steps.

(infallible logic)

Today I briefly apologized to my class of second graders for a couple of sub-par sentences--something that happens every once in a while as I try to teach in another language. Most of the time it's just a hesitation over article gender or a lazily pronounced "ue" sound (say eeee with your lips stretched apart and gradually bring the corners into a tiny "o" shape while continuing the sound). My philosophy is to be unashamed and up-front about these mistakes, taking the opportunity to remind the kids that I, too, am doing the frustrating work of making strange sounds and that we're all in the same, awkward boat during English class. Today was a bit different though, as I was offered a very simple explanation for my difficulties.

Simon, one of those kids who always has something very urgent and very off-topic to share, bounced up and down with his finger up (French kids raise their index fingers rather than their hands) until I called on him.

-Yes, Simon?
-I know why you couldn't find your word today, maîtresse.
-Is that so?
-Yes, it's because you have an accent.
-I think you're right. Thanks, now moving on...

You can't argue with that kind of logic!

However, one type of logic I would perhaps prefer to dispute was that of the woman at the bakery today. After I ordered my sandwich, she indicated the (I'm guessing) 10-year old boy behind me in line and followed up my order with:

-Et pour votre fils?

That means, "And for your son?" Now, it could just be vanity on my part, but I have always assumed I looked about my age, give or take. It was a shock, being mistaken for someone who could be the mother of a kid who's been around since I was 12!

(orange november market)

Today was a beautiful, bright, and very chilly day, which I started off with my weekly trip to one of the highlights of Rodez life--the Saturday markets! I soaked up the sunlight and wandered from table to table, market to market, conducting pleasant inner debates about which yummy treats I should choose this week. By the end of the morning, I was headed home with far more than I intended to buy--but the produce is all so delicious and fresh and fallish that I don't even feel any buyer's remorse :) As I unloaded everything out onto the table at home, I was struck by the vibrant orange pervading this week's choices: a nice slice of pumpkin, clementines, carrots, sweet potatoes, and a fruit I'd never had before called kaki. And, though it was the orange produce stealing the visual show today chez moi, I'm equally excited about the fresh regional tome fraîche cheese, the "Mona Lisa" variety potatoes, celery stalks, and eggs (which are still in need of a good rinsing, as they've still got hay and feathers stuck to the shells).

I'm going to celebrate by having some friends over for some Pumpkin and Sweet Potato soup tonight...and provided the soup turns out well (new recipe), I think it will be the perfect way to wind up an exquisite Saturday.

(your daily cuteness)

I came across this video of an unbearably cute French girl who's learned some English--and I'm posting it here so you can get an idea of the little accents I hear at school! Oh, and when she says "I'm a miss Capucine" that's her attempting to repeat "My name is Capucine." Trust me, they all say it that way. Until, of course, their extraordinary American teacher helps them out ;)


"I'm a miss Capucine !" from Capucha on Vimeo.

And as a bonus--check out the irresistible cuteness of this kid's story. Don't worry, there are subtitles, and they're worth reading! 


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

So, now that your heart has officially melted, I would like to also remind you that today was a double-whammy, post-wise. That means scroll down and keep on reading! 

(this is not a lesson plan)

No, it certainly isn't a lesson plan, this blog post. Instead, it's a picture update. This is because, true to procrastinatory form, I'm avoiding my lesson plans just as effectively as I ever avoided churning out a research paper or a stack of French Lit journal entries. [Note to Dr. Gregoire, if you're reading this--that was merely an illustration point and should in no way be taken seriously... ;)] So enjoy the fruits of my misdirected labor, all!

*edit: This is a tiny picture update, because loading photos onto blogger is taking a ridiculously long time. I shall thus continue posting pictures, but probably little by little, rather than all in one go. So for now, dive in.

I put a letter in this post box, and to my slight and happy surprise, it did in fact reach it's destination! The French don't have the same drive for constant updates in every aspect of life that Americans seem to--which makes for much more quaintness, in general.

This is a view from a few minutes' walk downhill from our apartment--it's a steep, slippery descent, but once you get down there, there's a lovely park with a 5k footpath along the river. It's nice to have such an accessible outdoors space so close to the "city!" The post box from above was just across the bridge against one of the nearer buildings.

Following are just a few snapshots of some of the pleasures of the park.

As I mentioned before, this picture post is somewhat truncated by my current unwillingness to wait 20 minutes for 3 pictures to load at a time. However, keep checking back, there will be more!

And for those of you who have noticed a recent staunch in the flow of blog posts, I offer a peculiar excuse, something that may seem too strange to accept--but accept you must, because in foreign lands, one meets with very foreign novelties: too much vacation. That's right, I said it. No, perhaps not too much--but a very lot. Since starting classes the beginning of October I've had weekends, wednesdays, 10 days for Toussaints (all saints), a five-day weekend for Armistice day, and learned today that next Thursday the public school teachers will go on strike--so no school again. I don't think I've had a full week (and again, let me remind you that a "full week" is four days) of teaching in over a month. On a tight budget, with so much time off, there just hasn't been too much going on for blog posts. As a friend told me, it's almost like being retired. At 22.

But for those of you who are curious as to how I've filled my days, here's a taste:

I've restarted the same wool scarf four times and think I've finally settled on a pattern and dimensions I like. It should come in handy as soon as it's finished--Rodez can get cold and windy!

I've learned 3 card games, taught one, and a couple of dice games. Then played them a lot with Sandra my roommate and our most frequent friend, Maria (German primary assistant).

I've read A Year in Provence, finally. It had been recommended to me several times before, but I'm glad I waited to read it until I found a cheap used copy at the British specialties shop in town--I appreciated the author's insights into smalltown/southern French life far more than I would have, had I read it in Paris.

I invented a soup and spent an entire afternoon assembling it--because I needed a project!

I got enough sleep for three sleepy College students--which magically provided me with energy and enthusiasm for my classes the first day back after Toussaints despite having stayed up the entire night before following the American election.

I filled out a preliminary Grad school application for a translation program in Geneva. (Haven't decided whether I'll send it or not--it is interesting, however, to note that their entrance exam dates exactly correspond with my spring break...)

I made far fewer lesson plans than I intended. :(

I did more personal writing than I intended. :)

I went on lots of walks and collected chestnuts with friends for roasting back at home.

I hosted a successful, friendship-full dinner party and laughed hard for the first time since arriving in Rodez.

And finally, I struggled my way valiantly through a few rounds in the gladiator arena that is French bureaucracy--a battle that is nearly over, but not yet won. More on that later, though.

I suppose, now that it's 2 am, I should go ahead and post this, so I can turn in. I've got class (I know, shocking, right?) first thing in the morning. That's another thing I forgot to mention--over all of these days of leisure, I've reestablished some terribly unhealthy sleeping habits. Night Owl Emilee is officially back and in need of a good vanquishing.

On that note, good night! Expect more, and soon!

(already?)

It's SNOWING enough for a Chattanoogan snow day! In October! 

That's all for now. 

:-)

(laugh out loud)

Another amusing moment from a faraway classroom: 

Today I surveyed a CE2 class (3rd graders) to see what they had already learned in English. It is their first year, but French kids in general hear a handful of English words through cartoons, advertisements, what-have-you, and in my brief experience, they love sharing those knowledge nuggets with me and their classmates. After hearing the standard "dogs and cats" and "hellos," Matthieu raised his hand and pronounced a word with which I was unfamiliar: "luhl" (imagine a French accent). I asked him to repeat it, and then finally asked him what it means in French. Matthieu responded succinctly, "Well, you say it when something is, you know, funny." 

It then dawned on me that Matthieu was pronouncing "LOL" à la française. I LOLed in response, but quietly, and then took a short rabbit trail with the class where we discussed the difference between words you use in regular speech and words you use in "textos" (text messages). 

Ah, the glories of the English language...

*For those of you who don't know what LOL means, it stands for Laugh Out Loud, and is often used in text messages and online chats.

(what i learned at school today)

According to modest calculation, I have spent well over 18,000 hours of my life watching teachers teach. Between Fall 1991 and Spring 2008, it was, in fact, my principle responsibility in life to listen to them and appropriately appropriate the knowledge that they helped me to discover, understand, and apply.

So you can imagine my state of mind as I walked home from my first day ever as a bona fide teacher and mulled over the fact that, somehow—despite so much time logged in the presence of teachers—I found it so foreign (haha), overwhelming, and even intimidating to step into that position myself.

Don’t get me wrong—I expected exactly as much when I signed up to come teach in a foreign country. I don’t think I realized until today, though, after it was all said and done, just how much meticulous adjustment would be required of me. In a couple short months, I’ve gone from being the taught to the teacher (in theory, anyway). Not only that, I did it while giving myself a crash course in the workings of a school system I never went through and speaking a language that doesn’t always come naturally when I’m nervous before a class full of 20 expectant little French faces. Not to mention that I’ve got no training whatsoever about cognitive development, lesson planning, or classroom management. Even my handwriting is not up to par, as one of the teachers kindly informed me today.

So that’s the part of my new job that is (understandably, I think) quite daunting. HOWEVER, in the face of all the aforementioned scariness, I have a lot going for me, here, too. Such as:

1) I’m quite good at what I’m teaching, if not yet at how to teach it.

2) Experience is a master instructor, and that’s what I’m getting!

3) My students are completely enthusiastic and mostly fearless, and instantly resilient in the face of failure (qualities I’m relearning from them as I build confidence to be a good teacher).

4) Handwriting is an easy thing to practice.

And, as an additional perk, I get to smile at the funny things my students say and do, because they’re pretty damn cute, as it turns out. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of “monster” moments, too—but for now I’m enjoying reentering the world of the primary school student. Oh, and gaining new respect for my old teachers…Now in the course of my day, I frequently find myself thinking “Whoa…someone taught me how to do this. And they had to be creative about it, clear, and patient.” It’s so easy to forget as adults just how labor-intensive it was just to get us all functioning independently enough to navigate daily life.

For your enjoyment, a fun moment from the day:

Upon being asked “Can you guess what country I come from?” one exuberant 3^rd grader raised her hand and declared, “From Obama!”

 

Much more to come…

(first day of school)

Monday was a big day, for sure--my first "first day of school" at a primary school in 12 years! And let me just say that it is quite bizarre to belong with the group of teachers surveying recess instead of the buzzing mass of students on the playground.

For this week, my job is to observe the classes I will start teaching on Monday. I've met tons of kids and teachers in the four schools I'll be working at, and while I feel overwhelmed by the newness and a bit frightened at my responsibilities, I'm very encouraged by the raw enthusiasm of the students whose faces light up as soon as they hear that the exotic American lady will be coming to teach them English. Hopefully, their enthusiasm will make up for the lack thereof I've already sensed in a few of their teachers...

So. Keep your fingers crossed (and your thumbs pressed) that all will go smoothly as I get my feet under me in the classrooms and with the lesson planning for all the different ages and levels--this is a completely new endeavor for me! Hopefully my eager 6-10 year-olds won't notice that I'm just a little terrified of them. I'm going to try my best not to let on, and to have some good, educational fun with them. Deep down, I think it will be great.

(playing catch-up with pictures)

Alright, everyone. I promised myself I wouldn't just throw tons of pictures at you all at once anymore, but would instead post them in a timely fashion, little by little. However, as internet time is a bit scarce, here comes a barrage. I'm sure you won't really mind ;) This picture, by the way, is of part of where the Bishop of the cathedral used to live. Now I think it's the headquarters of the Episcopal church in Rodez, or something of the like.

This is at Place de la Cité, and behind those men chilling under the statue is my bank. That's right, I have a bank account now, which means I'll soon have internet!

Voilà the Foyer Sainte Thérèse, which I called home for my first eight days as a resident of Rodez. It was a very nice, inexpensive place to stay, but I'm ever so glad to have my own apartment now!

This is the view out of our kitchen window at 59 rue Béteille. We don't have access to the gardens, but they're nice to look at, and the sun sets this direction and lights up our kitchen and dining rooms quite nicely.

Look at our kitchen! It's big! It's fully equipped! It has a dishwasher! It has a washing machine! It even has a salad spinner, a meat grinder, a food processor, a tart pan, a pressure cooker, a cast-iron pot, a juicer, and a potato masher (among other appliances)! That's what I mean when I say fully equipped. I don't think I need to tell you that I'm pleased as punch about being able to really cook!

This is our salon (ie, living rom). It has a clic-clac, can you find it? Don't know what that is? Neither did I. It's the futon to the left. When you fold it into a bed, you push up (it makes the clic sound) on the seat area, and then let it down (it makes the clac sound). I love how the French never seem to hesitate to name something after the sounds it makes. The fact that we have this means that you should come visit, by the way--because there's somewhere for you to sleep!

This is my room! It's the smaller of the two bedrooms, and has a smaller bed, but I like it very much--it's quite comfy and I especially like the mini-cabinet going on to the side of the bed--perfect for storing books, stationary, small electronics, etc.

OMG KEBAB NEXT TO MY APARTMENT!!! I measured, it's exactly 32 Emilee steps (approximately 20 normal-person steps) from my door. And it's the best I've had so far in Rodez! Of course, if I get tired of kebab or cooking, I can also easily head across the street to the middle-eastern market, or one door down to the Indian restaurant. A couple doors down is a burger place (haven't been yet, but it's always interesting to find burgers in France), and if I'm feeling truly ambitious, I can head up to the end of the block and buy myself one of the nice, gigantic paella pans they have for sale in the window. I've heard that real estate is all about location, but having such a good location (also about 5 minutes on foot from the town center) has made me realize just how true that is.

We went to Toulouse on Wednesday for assistant orientation. This is all I saw of Toulouse (besides one of its high schools) the whole day. No, seriously. Two hours of driving, hours of lectures, then two tired hours back to Rodez as soon as orientation was over. But I shall return!

The night we moved into our apartment, we had all the Rodez language assistants over for dinner (Sandra wasn't there yet.)! It was a delicious extravaganza of salad, soup, wine, and company--the perfect way to break in the new apartment! The funniest part is, I only sent one text message of invitation in the afternoon, and by dinner time, I'd either run into assistants on the street, or they'd already heard about it and showed up! Rodez is not a big town, as I said.

I think the "kitchen-themed" tiles in our kitchen are funny. My favorite is the timer tile.

Today Sandra (the roommate) and I had a special treat--a road trip! We had a married couple of assistants over for dinner last night who live in a smaller town about 30 minutes from Rodez, and they invited us to come with them on a Sunday drive day trip to Conques--a beautiful medieval town in the hills north of Rodez. On the way there, we accidentally discovered the town of Salles la Source, and its awesome waterfall!

We climbed behind it!

This is Adrianne on top of Jacques, their little Renault who lugged five of us around the countryside today.

Look, it's Sandra (my Colombian roommate) and me at the waterfall!

There's a sign at the top of this cliff-like thing that only says "ICI MIEL," meaning "HERE HONEY." We were intrigued and climbed up to find it.

We never did find the honey, but we did find some delicious wild blackberries (as well as some very picturesque views).

Downhill was a little extension of the village, with an old Romanesque church and pretty changing viney leaves.

The sunlight was really beautiful.

In Conques, mimicking the pig. I can be such a ham. Aaaaahahahaha.

Conques!

Adrianne with a pilgrim. Conques is part of a famous pilgrimage to Spain whose name I don't know in English.

Reflection of the cathedral of Conques in a pool full of 20-centime coins.

New friends Adrianne and Jorge :)

The girls: Emily, Adrianne, Emilee, and Sandra.

More soon, I promise. For now, my café is closing! Hope all are well and enjoyed the pictures!