Det är semester, vänner!

Having worked a "full" 3 weeks, France feels as though it is time for a break. Although, to be fair to this country, the under worked and adequately paid for the little work that we actually do language assistants are just on break because the schools (which have been open for 7 weeks now) are on break. I realize by American standards, 7 weeks of work does not warrant vacation time. BUT thankfully for me, American standards mean nothing here. For the next 7 months, I will gladly adhere to the French school schedule. This means 6 weeks of work, followed by 2 weeks (paid) vacation. France may be 10 different kinds of frustrating every day, but I can't complain about the vacation time. So tomorrow, along with a bathing suit, sunscreen, and flip flops because I hear it is lovely there this time of year, I will be headed for Sweden. We will also be visiting Finland and Denmark.

Work at the primary school has been going well. I still don't actually know how much English the kids are learning, but they are precious. Like every other school in France, the school grounds are surrounded by a metal fence. If the kids are out at recess when I am coming or going, they always come to the fence, and put their little hands out through the openings. Most of them stick to saying "Hello Laura" although the bolder students like to incorporate other English words they know, saying things like "Hello Laura. Happy. Sad. So so. See you soon"

As much as I love working at the primary school, I hate working at the private school. So much that I actually start dreading it on Sunday afternoon. It has its okay moments, namely when the bell rings and I can be back in my room in 2 minutes, instead of the hour and a half commute I have each way with the primary school. And also...actually, no. That's it. Every other thing about working at the private school sucks. But no rent is oh so nice.

this town is my soul mate

Bordeaux started putting up Christmas decorations yesterday. Heck. YES. Granted, it is so far just the wires across the streets to hang decorations on, but I consider that to be Christmas decorations just the same.

I repeat last years sentiments, I love living in a town that starts celebrating Christmas in October.

Wednesday, Thursday, Beautiful, Saturday

According to one student, those are the days of the week.

Yesterday was my first day at the private school. I've now worked with every class on my schedule. The kids at the private school are horrible, and leave me crying to return to last year's little hoodlums in Cenon. :) I shouldn't say that. Most days the kids last year were great. The kids at the private school are the worst behaved kids I've ever worked with, and that includes the clinicals I did at the juvenile detention center during college. Before I started at the private school, I went to a meeting about disciplining them. We were told we could send them out of the class, or write in their assignment books, that their parents then have to sign. Short of sending all but about 2 students out of class, or spending the entire evening writing negative things in every students assignment book, there wasn't much I could do. But I knew it would be like that. The girls that lived here last year said teaching at this school is hell, and they weren't kidding. But, free housing = worth it? Maybe. Ask me in a few months.
I am starting my second week at the primary school today. The kids are super cute, and don't speak a lick of English. It makes it difficult because during our training for the primary school, we were told to never speak to them in French. Fair enough. But then they showed us all these little videos of primary school foreign language class. They had kids telling about the weather in English, acting out the story of the three little pigs in Spanish, and doing something I didn't understand in some regional language (not Basque) that I don't remember. I understand what they are trying to get us to do. But the videos would have been more helpful had they been videos of the students actually learning what the foreign words mean, without any explanation in their native language. Friday I started teaching them "How are you?" How do I get them to understand what those words mean, without actually telling them "Ca va?" I've been working on getting them to understand gestures. I point to my ear and say "listen" and point to my mouth and say "repeat" Great, except that now many of them are pointing to their ears and saying "Listen. How are you?" Close enough.

No new pictures today. Lo siento amigos.

I'm on the brink of disaster, staring down the consequences

When I was 22, I taught about the Vietnam War (or Conflict, if you prefer) to 18 year old honors history students. I would literally learn the material I was teaching the night before the lesson, in addition to preparing lessons for my 4 different classes of European History. Success in that classroom was required to graduate college.

Tomorrow, I start working with 8 and 9 year olds. I will be teaching them "Hello. My name is...What is your name?" And I am terrified. I really have no idea why. If the kids don't learn a single word of English the entire year, I still have my college diploma. I still get paid. The teachers might talk for a bit about their awful English assistant from the year before, but I will soon be forgotten, and I will never see them again. SO, what difference does it make? NONE. Why am I so nervous??

Here are some pictures! :)

This is my new "home" My room is on the top floor. The second and first floors are school offices of some kind or another.


One of the reasons I came back, a sunny Sunday morning at Chartrons...


This is a random GARAGE. In a perfect world, every garage would have at least one gargoyle.


Some ivy growing on the side of a church near where I live


And then we have this. Nothing much to say, except that when you find half a pair of glasses in the bargain bin at Target, they have to be tried on. And Eliza doesn't just try things on, she poses.