préavis de grève-what would that be in inches?

When I was between the ages of 5 and 17, from December until March, I watched the news for one reason and one reason alone. I wanted to see the weather forecast. I anxiously waited to hear those words that were like music to my school age ears- snow, heavy, blizzard, over a foot, wind, white out, frigid, and subzero. A snow day meant spending the morning inside, where it was warm and cozy, eating breakfast while watching The Price is Right. A snow day meant not having to leave an hour before school started, standing at the end of the driveway, for what seemed like days (when in reality was probably only about 5 minutes) in the freezing cold waiting for the inadequately heated school bus to come by. Or during the last two years of high school, a snow day meant not having to scrape an inch of ice off the car, while my fingers got so cold they lost feeling and the exhaust I inhaled during this chore made my head hurt, only to finish and then have to put my already feelingless fingers on a steering wheel so cold it felt like it was made of ice. The heat in Morris Taurus usually started working about the time I pulled into the parking lot at school. A snow day meant having something warm and delicious for lunch with my parents, rather than a hamburger made from grade D beef, undercooked tator tots, and the lukewarmest thing about “hot" lunch, a carton of milk. A snow day meant that instead of spending the afternoon clock watching, waiting for 3 PM to finally roll around only to get stuck back on the inadequately heated bus where my siblings and I were always the last ones dropped off, we spent our afternoons outside in the new fallen snow. Granted, most times we were forced outside by our madre, but it was fun just the same. Snow days were magical.
It doesn’t snow much in Bordeaux. The school kids here do not know the joys of a snow day. However, for the public transportation taking language assistants, there is a French equivalent-the strike. Striking is the national sport in France. The French take it very seriously and practice frequently. The two types of strikes that are of particular interest to me are teacher strikes and transportation strikes. So, when I go to the tram stop and see the words “préavis de grève” flashing across the message board, I get a feeling of excitement. It is not unlike the feeling I would get as a kid while watching some poor on location reporter, standing in front of a gas station, wearing so many layers he looked more like a talking parka rather than an actual human, telling the Quad Cities news viewers what they could clearly see simply by looking out their windows, thus saving that poor guy a whole lot unnecessary frostbite-it’s snowing, hard.
So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I will say what I am thankful for. Obviously I am thankful for family and friends and that kind of thing. But I am also thankful for today’s transportation strike, i.e.-the snow day, France style.
I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving. Family, I miss you like crazy. But I had a great evening with great friends, so I guess I can't complain. We had no turkey, but we did have chicken, and the rest of the traditional fare.
A few photos...

The much talked about chickens cooking in Kate's shiny new "oven" with mashed potatoes reheating on top.


Cooking gravy on a hot plate that is resting on a chair.


The finished product! Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Future leaders of France

Sometimes (most of the time) this job is mentally under stimulating. We have more time than we know what to do with, but no money to do anything exciting.
Teaching English is pretty easy, because what is more natural than teaching one's first language? When I was student teaching, I usually had to learn the material the night before I would teach it. Obviously, that is not a problem here. The problem is that sometimes it too easy, to the point of being mind numbingly boring. The little kids are cute, but once past their cuteness, there is only so many times that I can sing "Head Shoulders Knees and Toes" before I want to hire a hit man to do away with the writer of that wretched song. The kids NEVER tire of it though, and they also have no clue what they are singing. I'm a good teacher.
I have a bit more freedom with the older ones, but most times it is still mind numbing. I am supposed to be preparing them for the BAC, and giving them documents (cartoons, usually) to present. Meaning I spend a hour with the kids as they present their document "I can see in the corner a gun. I can see in the top there is a sun. This cartoon is saying that blah blah blah" I know it is good practice for them, but uugggghhh, the only thing I get out of it is perfecting how French people speak English. I don't speak French. I speak English, French style.
So today, I was pleasantly surprised when I actually enjoyed teaching a class, at Tivoli no less! It was the only good class I have. We were doing an activity where I had them write 3 things about themselves, 2 of which were true, 1 was a lie. Then they had to present to the class, and the rest of the class had to ask questions and try to figure out which was a lie. One girl (who speaks amazing English) in particular did a great job, and we were all stumped. I told her she was a great liar. And she "I know. I want to be a politician. So I have to practice."

Is that O'Donnell woman still around????

Forget this 2012 nonsense. The Oprah Winfrey Show will end in 2011, thus the world as we know it will also end then. I guess the Mayans didn't see that one coming.

How will I know what books to read? What make up to wear? What beauty product to use? What body shaping underwear will best hold my stomach and butt in place? What Christmas CD to buy? What brand of popcorn sticks the least in my teeth? How often am I supposed to change my toothbrush? My pillowcase? My dish sponge? My shoes? My socks? How do I know what toothbrush to buy? What pillowcase? What dish sponge? What shoes? What socks? What athletic wear is the most comfortable? What wicks the best? Will I still be able to get a discount on the Kindle if I mention Oprah? Which brand of full length mirror makes me look the skinniest? Which digital camera makes my hair look the shiniest? What are Apple Bottom Jeans? Who do I get my over priced bouquet of roses shaped cakes from? Ipod or Zune? Nestle or Pillsbury cookie dough? True Religion? Rock and Republic? Seven For All Mankind? ARIZONA? WHICH JEANS DO I BUY???
Oprah, don't leave. I can't handle the kinds of tough choices that life throws at me. I need you to tell me these things. After 25 years, you can't expect me to think for myself.

Comment dit-on "It's not possible for anyone to be so horrible on their own. I'm sure you are unfit parents. Me writing this is a waste of time"?

I always try to be a nice person. When I was student teaching, one of the reasons my cooperating teachers marked me down a grade was because they said I was too nice. I don't think I have ever yelled at anyone, Aaron and Eliza aside of course. I don't like feeling as if have I hurt someone's feelings. I hate being mean.
Tivoli has broken me.

I was warned by the girls that taught here last year that teaching here is HELL. But I thought, oh, free housing. It will be worth it. BUT, is it? I am starting to think that a tent pitched in front of Monoprix might be a better alternative. At least then I could collect the spare change of the grocery store shoppers.

I have one class in particular that is beyond controlling. They are 3emes, the French equivalent of 8th grade. And I don't know how it is possible for any group of students to be this bad. Yesterday, one of them THREW A CHAIR. Although it is the first time a chair has been thrown, they throw things daily. It started with bits of paper, then pens/pencils, then pencil bags, then notebooks. So really, a chair just seems like the most logical progression. I expect a desk to be thrown next week.

I don't have to plan lessons for this class. I just have to plan punishments. I usually have them write lines for part of class. I spend another part of class moving one student to the front of the room, one student to the corner, one student to another corner, etc. The few times I actually have managed to get them to do some kind of work, it usually goes something like this:
Me: Write a short description of this picture.
Soulless French 14 year old: en français? ou anglais?
Me: ENGLISH.
SF14YO: Putain! Mais non! Pourquoi?
Me: Don't say putain. And why would you write in French during English class?
SF14YO: But...eeuhhhh...I can't speak the anglais.
The work I do get (if any) is usually something like this "There is a lot building. Devant les buildings, I can see a lac in fact. The lac, it is bleu." Then they ask me "It is good, no?" To which I always reply "No. Actually, it is not good."

So after I particularly bad class yesterday, I asked the teacher if I could start giving detentions or sending kids out of the class. To which she replied "Well, what you can do is write in their carnets" The carnet?! The carnet is a notebook that all the kids have. It is supposed to be a link between the school and home. So I am supposed to write in all the carnets of the students who were bad. No thank you. That seems like a lot of work for me (I would have to write in at least 15 carnets) and a mild slap on the wrist of the student. I would have to write in perfect French, which I don't speak or write. French people have this amazing ability to not realize that learning a language is a two way street. They think the entire world is born speaking French. Daily, I hear sentences such as this "Next Thuesday, I will go in Paris for to make a shopping" but if I make a mistake in French, look out. Suddenly I am not qualified to teach ENGLISH.
So a boy throws a chair at another student, and I supposed to write in his carnet a little paragraph about how naughty Baptiste was during class today? That just makes more work for me and I know nothing will come of it. Grr.
So I am really mean to the Tivoli students. It is a learning experience. And I have 5 months left to learn. I figure by the time I am done here, I will no longer be described as nice.
I don't worry about hurting their feelings because I think a prerequisite to be a Tivoli student is to be born without a soul. They have no feelings. The bad ones are minions of the devil. The "good" ones have indifference. They all have really stupid haircuts.

nature in Villenave

Everyone in France dresses better than me, including the kids. I'm okay with that. So Thursday, when I arrived to class wearing my non skinny legged black pants with flats, and saw most of the kids wearing skinny jeans/leggings tucked into boots, I thought little of it. I walked on into the classroom. Then I saw the teacher putting on her coat. She looked at me and said what I long ago realized is the actual motto of France (none of the "liberty, equality, fraternity" nonsense). "Oh...Laura...I meant to call (email can also be substituted here) you" She went on to say that the kids were going on a little field trip that afternoon. Since my only other class of the afternoon was also going on the field trip, it was decided that I would accompany the 2 teachers, 4 parents, and 52 8 year olds on their outing. The teacher told me what the purpose of the outing was, but I didn't exactly understand. It was something to do with megaliths. All I really knew was that this meant I could reuse the day's lesson plans on Friday. Awesome.
I went outside to where the kids were lined up in pairs. In one hand they each held a folder with a map and a highlighter or pencil and most had a camera. In the other hand, they held the hand of the person next to them. We were not even out of the schoolyard before the kids started dropping pencils, highlighters, papers, folders, jackets, backpacks, etc. Then, a few short blocks into our walk, the small patch of blue sky gave way to the black clouds and torrential downpour started. Momentarily forgetting where I was (although I am not sure how I could, since if we were in the US the kids would not have been walking in the first place. They would have been on a school bus), I assumed that this rain would mean we would turn around. Nope. Not a single kid had an umbrella. Some had raincoats, most did not. They continued walking. They soon were soaking wet, muddy, and carrying soaking wet folders and cameras. Despite the rain, they still stopped periodically and took pictures of things they thought were representative of nature in Villenave d'Ornon. This included things like street signs and bulldozers. At a few points during our trek, we walked by the houses of students. One girl's mom, dad, and grandma were standing at the window waving. It was super cute.
After about 45 minutes of walking, we arrived at our destination. It was a park full of megaliths. The kids immediately took off running around the park, taking pictures, climbing on the rocks, throwing things, and so on. The girl whose family waved to us explained to me that she lived close to the park, so she knew it well. Then she took me by the hand and showed me where some giant mushrooms were growing. Then she told me that her dog died and they buried it at the park. Sad.
The kids were running around at the park for a good 40 minutes, then we walked back to school. Apparently the teachers thought this warranted a break, because once back at school, the kids got a 15 minute recess that they spent running around. Oh France.
I liked going on the outing with the students, but a little warning would have been nice. My black shoes are covered in leaves and mud, as are the bottoms of my black pants. Despite using an umbrella, I was still soaking wet and freezing the rest of the afternoon. And I am not actually sure why I was on the field trip. The teachers thought it would be a good chance for the kids to practice English with me. A nice idea, except the kids only know about 10 words of English. And walking in the pouring rain is not the best environment for practicing "What is your name?" "How are you?" "What is your favorite color?" etc. So instead, I was there to give the kids a chance to take pictures of the foreigner and ask me questions (in French) like "Do you have any friends in Bordeaux?" to which I replied (in English) "Oh, I don't understand French. Sorry" One of the mother chaperons heard me say this and said "Are you friends have in Bordeaux?"

for træt til at være kreative

I arrived back in Bordeaux last night after a delightful 10 days away. I may write about it sometime, but I am too tired now and still need to finish laundry and lesson plans. Tomorrow I start back at work. I have no idea what we will be doing. I need to focus on it though. The children of Villenave d'Ornon have English to learn :)
My pictures from Sweden and Finland are on my shutterfly site. Denmark will be up soon, but not tonight because I am tired of working on it. I could tell you that at some point I will sort out and label the pretty ones, delete the blurry/bad ones, etc. But that would be a lie. I put them right side up, and in all likelihood, that will be all I do with them because I am lazy. Sorry mom.

Here are some just to wet your Scandinavian picture viewing palette.

Stockholm

skeleton at the Vasa Museum in Stockholm

Stockholm

Stockholm

Uppsala

the Baltic Sea

Helsinki

Orthodox church in Helsinki

Copenhagen

the gate at Christiania

a canal in Copenhagen