C’est Terminé

I suck at goodbyes. I prolong them. I avoid them. I pretty much live in denial until the last possible moment where I am forced to face them. I have friends who choose to deal with each moment as if it’s our last, getting all sappy and sentimental about how this is our last brunch together, our last baguette, our last tooth-brushing session…This in turn makes me  awkwardly clam up as they blatantly penetrate the denial walls I have so craftily built. The result usually consists of me blurting something like, “No! We still have time!!” and shaming them for their raw sentiment. Like I said, I suck at goodbyes.

But is there ever a good way to do it? Are there people who actually like goodbyes? Does it get easier the more you have to do it?

At this point I’ve said my fair share of goodbyes- family, community and childhood friends for college, my Grecian union of lovely ladies during my study abroad, my college community, my Boston kin, students -so many students- and now my international clan. And for me it never gets easier. I leave a little piece of my heart in each place. And even if giving a minuscule sliver of your heart makes it that much more painful when you go, I think it’s worth it. But it doesn’t mean goodbyes are easy. 

It’s especially hard as a teacher. You’re in a constant state of goodbyes. And with foreign students there really is a finality to the farewell. As I prepared for my final classes this morning I was surprised to feel slightly anxious. Would they care? Would I be memorable? They’ll have other English assistants next year. I’m just one of many, but they will forever be imprinted in my memory.

It was helpful to remember the questions they asked what feels like forever ago and remember how we’d grown as a group. How I’d gained (and earned!) their respect, their trust and their laughter. 

Looking at things in retrospect is surreal. The places and people that once seemed intimidating, and so foreign (in my case literally), have become a part of you and will forever make up an aspect of your identity.

I was relieved to finish my day with a smile on my face and reinforcement on my walls of denial (my students did a damn good job of breaking them down). We laughed, we drew, we learned and we said farewells. At the end of the day I was left speechless by one of my favorite classes who presented me with a beautiful card.

Some of my favorite “words”:

“I will miss you very, I like you so much”.

“I will miss your lessons…they were interesting, captivating, various and so fun! I hope you’ll keep a good memory of your stay and job here. Good continuation.”

“Anna, I’m really happy about the moments we spent together! I was really enjoying your knowledge. If you liked your journey, you can always come back!”

“Thanks for your amazing lessons!”

“Dear Anna, your lesson was very nice and I enjoyed it. I’ll miss you alot…Your Florian. P.S. I love you”.

“Thank you for everythinks. 🙂 You’ll miss us.”

Don’t know if that’s what she meant to say, but it’s true. I will miss them. And I’m going to miss teaching.

So Montbeliard, it’s time I bid you adieu. As much as we’ve had our ups and downs, and as much as I have trash-talked you when we weren’t together, Montbeliard you were my home. And today a little piece of my heart will remain with you.

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Perks of being a Teaching Assistant

Being appreciated.

…REALLY appreciated…

Wined and dined by my teachers tonight for a farewell dinner and then received this!

But seriously- WTF?!

But seriously- WTF?!

Never in my life have I received a necklace in a box! -or such schmancy bling. Best date ever! I was pretty much left blushing and speechless. Jewelry doesn’t make me do that! I’m pretty sure it was the surprise of their overwhelming kindness. Next set of co-workers are going to have some big shoes to fill…

But seriously. After 7 months of hot and cold co-worker relations (though in their defense I recently discovered that past assistants were horrible and thus they were keeping their distance)- it’s nice to know that my hard work was noticed and appreciated!

So many mixed feelings are whirling throughout my mind as the end of this program draws near and yet another chapter of my life comes to a close. But exciting prospects are on the horizon and today I’m really feeling the love and support! I truly am lucky.

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Assistant

After today’s frustrating (but some how still semi-successful) lesson, I thought I should provide a small window into the life of a teaching assistant.

Every day, every class and every teacher brings a new experience- especially when you work with 12 different teachers at 2 different schools with 12 varying class by class numbers and schedules. While some days it’s quite refreshing to have variety, other days it’s down right frustrating to have inconsistency. Take last week, when I discovered that I would be grading a student (which we’re actually not allowed to do) for his Mock Bac (or as the French call it, the Bac Blanc) 15 minutes before actually doing so. No prior explanation from the teacher, no down low of the French grading system, just instructions in my mailbox.

My 15 minute break consisted of google translating Degrés 1-4 and typing my own English rubric of what each category actually meant. All things considered, the Mock Bac went pretty well- it was the aftermath where I suffered. I took the rubric back to my desk, equipped with my notes and google translate and attempted to number each category. I don’t even like grading in the U.S. (and luckily as an elementary art teacher I don’t really have to- if you try, you pass)! But to tackle a foreign system and write an evaluation in a foreign language was quite the daunting task to say the least. I finally broke down and sought text advice from a native (Antoine). Luckily he responded in time. “33/40 is very good. Basically: under 10 is miserable, between 10 and 20 is under average, 20-30 is average to good, 30-40 is good to excellent!” I nervously turned in the final results, hoping that I didn’t tamper with some student’s esteem. 

Today was not much different. After pestering the teacher all week about his expectations, I was surprised to find nothing in my mail box prior to class. Each teacher varies with their agenda- some let me plan my own lessons, others provide me with specific frameworks, and then there are those that have it all planned out. This particular teacher usually wants me to follow his specific (and boring) curriculum with no personal touches of my own. I’m happy to comply- when there is a lesson in the mail box! After receiving nothing, I fell back on my go to lesson of speed dating. I waited 15 minutes for Group #1 to show- nothing. So after deciding that maybe I’d misunderstood something, I headed for the exit only to run into three of my students. Three out of nine. The confusion went a little something like this:

“Oh. Hi. Are you guys with me today?”

“Bah…oui!”

-Confused Stares-

“Well where are the others?”

“Avec Monsieur.”

“Really? Are they coming?”

“Non.”

“Did he give you anything to work on?”

“Non.”

“Do you have anything you want to work on with me?”

-Confused whispering-

“Bahhh…maybeee?”

-Sigh-

“Ok. Let’s go. We’ll figure something out.”

I was furious. That they were so late. That I was so out of the loop. That the class had completely changed. That I had nothing prepared as speeding dating with three was a no go, but ultimately that this was a class I was responsible for without having a say in what happens. My anger was getting me nowhere, so I decided to improvise and use the knowledge I had of preparing for the Bac. We covered some helpful reviews of summarizing texts and articulating opinions. Fortunately I came prepared and rewarded them at the end with worksheets of dating vocabulary. At least they left laughing.

These experiences reminded me of what it takes to be a teacher- especially when you’re a teaching assistant.

  • Be patient
  • Be flexible
  • Be ready to improvise and think quickly on your feet
  • And come equipped with a Plan B because you never know when you’ll be out of the loop
  • But also- don’t forget to find the humor- if you’re miserable, they’re miserable…which in turn makes you even more miserable. If you can leave a frustrating situation laughing, your off to a good start.

When good classes go…Great!

It’s funny to look back and think about my teachers. I can’t imagine any of them getting nervous before a class, but I do. Just about every time I teach a new lesson, I get nervous. Because I care. Will they participate? What will they have to say about this? Will they grasp the concept, understand what I’m teaching, walk away having learned something? Some days I wish I didn’t care- I think that teaching these little shits would be much easier if I didn’t care. But then I remember that I do (and I don’t know if it’s possible for me to stop) and when I look back at my favorite teachers, they did too. And I loved them not because their lessons were easy or fun or because they themselves were super cool- it was because they cared (and yes that usually resulted in their classes being fun and engaging and them being pretty cool, but that was a byproduct of their passion).

Post New Years Resolutions, my teachers have had a bizarre bevy of lesson requests. Currently I am teaching lessons ranging from the psychology of vampires, to murder mysteries, to environmental issues, to how the US political system works and the complexity of US gun culture. Sometimes it’s frustrating having a predetermined plan chosen for me, while other times I welcome the simplified springboard.

The days where the students participate, the time flies from engagement, and I feel as though my being here actually matters, are the days when I feel elated to have this profession. True, I am only a part-time assistant in a foreign country (and many days I am disrespectfully reminded of that fact), but to have the students get as involved in a lesson as I am, for them to yell I love you in the hallway (in a genuine and not hitting on me kind of way), for them to express actual sadness at the knowledge that I will only be here a for a few more months, and for them to yell at incoming classes that they are not ready to stop my lessons- those moments are priceless.

And I am grateful for these moments. For the time that the confused student who constantly blurts “what do you speak??” actually learned ‘I don’t understand’, or the time I teared up (just a little) from a student’s perfect synthesis of what I had just taught on gay marriage, or that I could trust my students enough to blindfold me and prove their knowledge of verbal directions as they led me through a classroom maze, or for the knowledge that came with mock mystery investigations- that it’s possible to play and teach at the same time. I appreciate even the bizarre little moments, when one student oh so earnestly asked, ““uh madame…can you ear zat I ave uh accente?”, or when a peculiar student insistently declared that she “was batman”. These good and…weird moments make those days when I wonder “why do teachers do this to themselves!?” fade away.

Fortunately today was one of those days and I’m so happy it was. As I start to see the finish line of the TAPIF program and waiver back and forth between “dear god let’s speed up to the end already!” and “but I’m not ready to go!!”, it’s nice to have days like today where I’m happy to be here now. Here’s hoping these moments continue to stay strongly in the forefront of my memory.

To expel or not to expel…

IMG_2950

From Friday…

Out of all my classes, the only class that I see every week (it never changes) happens to be my last class on a Friday and consequently- my hardest. When my lesson finished last week, I left foul and disappointed. Why was it so damn hard for them to listen? Why was there so much disrespect? I worked hard to make my lessons fun and engaging. Shouldn’t that be enough? But as most people who studied education, or have any experience working with children, will tell you, the answer is no. An engaging lesson is never quite enough.

Feeling lost and seeing as how I am not the actual teacher (but rather a mere assistant), I e-mailed my professor for help. His response- “Kick them out. Too bad. They had the chance. Give me their names and I will kick them out.”

Maybe it’s the sappy teacher in me that sees the potential in all my students, but I just couldn’t bring myself to hand over the names. True, as a whole, the class can be unfocused, rambunctious and as of late, disrespectful, but when it comes to each student, they’ve all had their shining moments. I wasn’t ready to just expel a big bunch of them and be done with it. Maybe if I didn’t have a passion for teaching, my life could be a little easier.  I could say fuck em. If those little shits can’t be respectful, then they can leave. But I’m not just an assistant. I like to teach and *nerd alert* I leave elated when I know that they’ve learned something. So even though I wasn’t ready to expel them, the question became- What should I do now?

Many conversations and even a little research later, I devised a solid plan. I would come in firm but somehow still leave as the “good guy”.

My plan of attack was this.

1. Come in early. Open the door by myself. I have had the hardest time with my keys and have never actually been able to open room 129 on my own. One student has somehow mastered this skill. How can I have respect, if I can’t even open the damn door?

2. Change their seats. I conveniently had slips of paper with their names on them and arranged them around the room so that 1. they were no longer by their friends and 2. were closer to me.

When they entered the room and sighed in disappointment, I asked, “Do you know why I did this?” to which one student replied, “Because you hate us?” Oh how wrong she was. If only they knew…

3. Have clear classroom expectations. This was linked to the be early part of the plan. I wrote my expectations on the board.

1. Come in, sit down and wait for your name to be called

2. Respect- do not talk while I am talking and do not talk while your peers are talking

3. If you have questions or problems, raise your hands. I am here to help

4. Listen to your classmates and participate. TRY

5. 3 strikes and you’re out.

The last one particularly amuses me as it is a policy I use with my elementary kids. Normally I wouldn’t think such a thing would be necessary with high schoolers, but with this class it seemed to resonate. Especially after I told them their professor wanted to kick them out.

4. Be Reasonable. Give them some input- Seeing as how the professor presented this class to me as “make it fun for them. make it fun for you” I didn’t want to leave as the crazy strict American Assistant. So I wrote some questions on the board for them:

1. What makes a classroom work?

2. What do you expect from your teachers?

3. What do you want from this class?

Their answers impressed and amused me:

“Funny works”

“The teacher speak with a student and joke with us”

“I would like to learn English in a good ambiance”

“A teacher who is interesting and learning us”

“A good ambiance, a good and nice teacher, students who participate”

“A class works because we have an exam to pass at the end of the year and for our personal culture. This exam and the marks you have can give you a school and also a work”

“Pupils have to be nice and respect the teacher. A classroom works when there is an exchange between pupils and teacher”.

It’s so wonderful when they get it. ‘Good ambiance’ was a common theme in their responses and by the end of the lesson, I’m happy to say that good ambiance was achieved. The class ran smoothly and we even had time (and focus) to try the adjective game I’d invented. I regained respect. I established my expectations and we still managed to have fun at the end. Teacher 101: It’s always good to shake things up and amazing to see what happens when you stick to your guns.

But we’ll see what next week brings….

Besancon

So as my father so deliberately pointed out, it has almost been a week since my last post. Correction. I think today marks the week point. So in order to combat the risk of this blog becoming yet another thing that should be a source of enjoyment, but instead turns into a source of stress, I figured it’s about time I recounted my Besancon trip.

Beautiful Besancon at the golden hour (Or as I often say to Ella “money light”)

A basic summation of the trip is best described by my facebook post “One citadelle complete with baboon soap operas and lion/tiger rivalries, 10 euros for 10 shots, a night full of gagnam style dancing in the streets, lots of spanglish, frenglish, and other mixes of languages, 1 strange dancing german toast, much delirium and even more laughter later, I have returned from Besancon. Time to catch up on 4 days of sleep. But oh what a great trip it was.” ….is it weird that I just quoted my own facebook post??

Besancon was a wonderful first excursion to have for many reasons (most of which are noted above). Venturing outside of Montbeliard, exploring an old city, learning more about the region, bonding with assistants, speaking with native frenchies somewhere around my age, finally dancing, completing one more paperwork hurdle, commiserating with other assistants about orientation boredom, and feeling the satisfaction of a four course french meal cooked by a quirky french host woman, are among the pros of the trip. After buying my Carte 17-25 (which gives me half off train tickets), me and four other assistants, Diego, Maggy, Maribel and Jose (two Americans, one Mexican and one Panamen(?) hopped on the train. It was nice to see that even the seemingly rundown looking trains not only functioned, but provided a quick, smooth and surprisingly pleasant trip. I’d gotten all too familiar with the underground world of the T where surprise stops, unrelenting creepers, crying babies, loud incomprehensible announcements, and increasingly more agitated people were commonplace. I welcomed the beautiful country side, the good company, the audible announcements and realization that in fact we had arrived early. Qu’est-ce que c’est ca?

Tourists

Mas Tourists

We greeted Besancon in full fledged tourist attire- dragging bags and pulling out cameras as we wandered around until we eventually found the cobblestone streets leading to our hotel. Besancon is old and beautiful but is also unfortunately under a ridiculous amount of construction because of the addition of a new tramway. But even through the construction, we were able to experience the beauty of this enchantingly old city (not quite sure how old but apparently during the 4th century it’s name was changed to Besontio, which later led to the transformation of Besancon…so it’s pretty darn old).

After checking into our conveniently located hotel (what? we don’t need to put down a deposit and our keys are already in the door??), we explored the area and stumbled upon an old flea market. It took everything in my artist/hoarder power not to purchase a multitude of chachkies. I saw so much potential in the old frames, worn text books, a rusting owl brooch- but as a survivor of a recent painful purge-o-stuff process, I kept on walking. Some how we were led to an environmental fair where rows of tiny huts promoted and sold fair trade, organic, and local items. And some how we managed to purchase the last crepe of the evening, relishing in the savory goodness of our prize.

He even put on his apron specially for us

Fast forward to 4 bottles of wine, 3 baguettes, 2 cheeses, and one dance lesson including dougie, cupid shuffle, superman, and most importantly gangnam style, and we were ready to check out the Besancon night life. In short, the night was a blast and I learned that french people love to speak English to you even if you answer in French, that 10 is definitely too early to arrive at the bar but if you don’t give a damn, they won’t either, and having Latin men as dance partners is fun, educational, and actually quite painful (legs and hip flexors suffered the next day…or maybe I’m just that out of shape…). Surprisingly enough we managed to get up by 8:30 the next day, which actually wasn’t that difficult considering we had five people crammed in one room.

Citadelle Monkeys

With several museums, an insectarium, an aquarium, a noctarium, and a zoo all within it’s 17th century walls, the Citadelle was quite the cite to see. Apparently by the early 1700s, it was one of the strongest fortifications in France during that period, but let’s be honest- the animals made it pretty damn cool too. It was by far one of the most unique zoo experience I’ve had. Normally, zoos depress me, but watching weird assed lion monkeys roam around ruins and climb on ancient citadel steps was too interesting to feel sad. Besides, they weren’t even in cages. During the day I communicated with strange piglets, entered a bird cage, witnessed a lion challenging a tiger (each within their own respective cages) followed by a strong tiger roar, and watched the baboon equivalent of an intoxicating reality tv show- monkey hierarchy, fights amongst the females, struggles to protect the newborn and teenage antics- Who needs the discovery channel when you have this?? We left the citadelle feeling both thoroughly exhausted and entertained as well as completely unprepared for the next two days of orientation and mandatory medical visits.

Luckily I survived both- though the medical visit was quite awkward as a tiny french doctor asked me rapid questions, while taping on various parts of my back and then pushed me against an x-ray machine, because apparently I didn’t understand how close one needs to get to be registered by said machine. But I FINALLY received my official documents from the France side and am one step closer to being done with paperwork hell! Social security, reimbursement and bank card, here I come!

There is much more I would like to recount or discuss- the lovely dinner (spoken entirely in french!) with the quirky divorcee who houses foreign students or visitors and who hosted me and an Australian assistant before our Dr’s appointment, the historical and cultural differences between Catholic Besancon and Protestant Montbeliard, the weirdness that is English language (or so I’m learning) and of course my first week of teaching. But for now I must say adieu and enjoy the pictures!

“What do you want??”

Today marks the end of my observation period- or at least according to technicalities. For the past two weeks I’ve been thinking about how to summarize the French school system, the teachers, the classrooms, what highschool in France is like, but ultimately I cannot actually make sweeping statements about such things. All I can do is note what I’ve observed.

The jury’s still weighing the pros and cons of these particular high schools, but so far I’ve noted a few key things. High schools here, at least the two I’ve witnessed, are treated almost like college in America. The rooms are bare and decoration is sparse because no room is for one teacher. Instead the rooms are rotated on a daily basis, leaving no teacher ownership of any particular space. On the one hand I got tired of teachers being so possessive of what could be utilized as a community space in the states, but on the other hand, there is something to creating a unique environment designated for your own particular class.

Teachers are more like college professors here. They take their breaks seriously- this is time for coffee and chatting. They will vent about their classes and then move on to other topics. They do not cram in grading or last minute lesson planning. They leave right when it’s time to leave, not 10 minutes prior to the start of class for prep, so that by the time they come to their room, the students are waiting outside. Once invited in to the room, students must stand until they are told to sit, at which point they talk and gossip while the teacher scans the room for a quick attendance check. The lessons vary from teacher to teacher but are generally more laid back than the lessons I received in high school. However, they’re more multicultural than the ones I received, and I felt like I had a fairly multicultural education… It’s fascinating to watch a language course delve into green energy, stereotypes and bias, the history of the Aboriginal culture and the oppression in Australia, the caste system in India, and the fractioning of the English language into a family of dialects like Spanglish and Singlish (in Singapore) and Taglish (in the Philippines). I’m excited to come up with my own lessons.

Of course there are many more observations I have noted, but for now I will share a few of the common questions that students love to ask.

Common Questions I’ve Received:

1. What’s your name/Where do you come from? I usually get gasps of excitement and hand gestures that resemble pistols in the air, or what I can only assume are gestures that only cowboys would do, when I say that I’m from Texas. This is then followed by heightened excitement when I tell them I was born in Los Angeles, but only leads to disappointment when I say that I’ve never actually been there aside from the 9 months or so of my infancy, and ultimately leads to confusion when I say that I’ve been living in Massachusetts for the past 6 years. I think I should just stick to Texas. But even then, one student asked me “Do they speak English in Texas?”, at which point I knew it was time to get out a map.

2. Why did you come here (To France)? No why did you come here (To Montbeliard)?? There is usually a common interest as to why I came to France but an even greater interest in why the hell I came to Montbeliard. It’s a bit of a let down to tell them that I didn’t in fact choose it, but was instead placed here (and I don’t dare tell them that it was definitely not my first pick). I started off with some BS answers but then realized there was actually some truth to the fact that I never previously visited the Franche-Comte region, that I am intrigued about the proximity to Germany and Switzerland and the accent that ensues, and that I’ve been dying to live in a small French town ever since I biked around on my own along the tiny roads of St. Cast 12 years ago. Of course all of this is said with much more simplicity.

3. What’s your favorite French food? This is always a tricky one to answer because I have to first break the news that, “Sorry guys. I’m vegetarian”, which usually creates a room full of “ohhhhsss” as if to say “c’nest pas possible!”, “how can this be?!”. But I usually redeem myself when I say cheese. Lots and lots of cheese. Especially because this region is known for their Comte. But it takes a while for them to grasp the concept. “So chicken?” “No chicken.” “Fish?” “No. No fish”. “Nothing? No beef? No sausage? No bacon? No sausage???” “No. No meat. Nothing that had eyes. But I do eat eggs.” “Ok…” The fact that I consume dairy gives me some credit. I can’t imagine if I was vegan.

4. Do you have a boyfriend? This one is always asked by the boys and always starts off somewhere in the back as a quiet question. Then the surrounding group starts laughing and he gets up the courage to ask it so that I and the whole class can hear. The first time, I moved on to another question because I wasn’t really sure about the appropriateness or what the policy was like, but then I wised up to the laid back frenchness and tried to answer with a simple “Yes.” This however, usually leads to more questions, disappointment (feigned by most I assume) and giggles at which point I moved on to other questions. Lycee Viette is particularly interesting when it comes to this topic as it is a vocational school comprised almost entirely of boys who apparently don’t see many younger women on a daily basis. I’m hoping the ‘I love yous’ and ‘beautiful’s were just a way of practicing the limited vocabulary they know, but needless to say, this is definitely new territory. When I told them I was 24, I heard one whisper in the back (in french) “Awww. She’s too old for us”, at which point I chuckled and another student noted “Elle comprend!” Damn right I understand. I just hope I can keep on understanding…

5. Are American highschools like the movies? This one amuses me as students seem to have a romantic notion of American high schools. One student even asked, “Were you a cheerleader?” It was hard for me not to respond, “Ha! Cheerleader? If only you knew…” but instead I managed a simple, “No.” I tried to explain that every high school is different, that not all high schools are obsessed with football and that there are actually quite a few similarities to the ones I’ve seen so far in France. They seemed disappointed until one asked, “Do they have lockers?”. “Well yes. Most of them I think. Mine did at least.” She gave me a large smile and proceeded to excitedly talk with her friends. At least I could give them lockers…

6. And finally my personal favorite, What do you want? Ok. So this one wasn’t a common question, but rather one from a particular student who seemed to only know how to ask, “What do you want?” At first I laughed and tried to guess “what am I doing here?” “what do I want to do in France?” , but he kept repeating “What do you want?”. And while I think ultimately, he wanted to know something else, I felt it was a valid question. Especially right now in my life. And while I don’t have the time to delve into the quarter life crisis questions that ultimately translate to “What do I want”, it was interesting to be asked by someone other than myself. I quickly came up with an answer about wanting to learn french, wanting to teach in another country, wanting to see how English is taught, wanting to travel and to learn. Ultimately I guess those things speak to some deeper desires of wanting to see, to explore, to challenge, to questions, to stop, to think, to play, to create, to grow and hopefully to learn- about France, people, different places and hopefully myself.

But enough metacognitive ranting. It’s Friday, most of my paperwork is done and a group of assistants and I are going to Besancon tomorrow for some good ol’ fashion exploring and boite de nuit (night box= night club) dancing. So right now, it’s pretty safe to say that what I want is to start the weekend!

Enfin! C’est un blog!

So this is my first time writing a blog, and so far learning how it works is as easy as learning how to communicate in French. Needless to say- bare with me. I have FINALLY arrived in France after months of submitting paper work, writing french essays, squirreling away money like a greedy pre-hibernation rodent, convincing new teachers to vouch for me, having moments of France bound panic, taking night classes in Cambridge and oh and let’s not forget 12 years of dreaming…and I can’t believe that it’s all real. A dream of mine has actually become a reality! I’d like to take a moment here to thank all the little people- haha no- all of the really important people in my life who have helped me get here with their constant support and love. As cliché as it may be, I really would not be here without my friends and family.

Je suis arrivee

So France. I don’t know how to quite sum up the past 2 1/2 weeks. It’s been a whirlwind of traveling, paperwork, french, excitement, panic, awe, some more excitement and lots more French. Antoine and I traveled 24 hours from Austin to New York to London to Lyon and then from there a bus to Grenoble and a car ride from a dedicated friend of Antoine’s to our final destination, Braincon. I never want to do that again. I was too delirious and sleep deprived to take in the initial wonder of finally arriving in France. All I wanted was a bed.

Too much stuff

But I survived and we spent another whirlwind of a day in his home (Briancon) only to wake our asses up at dawn, pack up his car and drive 6 hours to Montbeliard. After projectile vomiting on the side of a mountain (TMI? I think we had food poisoning or really bad jet lag or a combination of both in addition to the constant winding roads that you must take to exit his mountain town), and braving torrential down pours, I made it to Montbeliard like a little rat dog- shaky and soaking. But I met my coordinator, Veronique, who was instantly warm and helpful. She showed me a little bit of the school but most importantly la salle des profs (teacher’s room) and then showed me to my room. Aside from the strong pickle smell coming from my pipes, the tiny shared fridge in our kitchen and the semi broken tiny shower, it’s really quite nice. I have a decently sized room to myself, a kitchen and bathroom just for me and two other assistants- Ilka, from Germany and Diego, from Mexico, a great location for my job (the school is a courtyard away), and close proxemitiy to le centre ville. And I only pay 80 euros a month! Tough to beat. Every time that I get irritated with the pickle stench that greets me as I enter my room, I remind myself that this room is helping me with a trip to Prague, a weekend in Besancon and many more adventures to come.

Bienvenue a Montbeliard

In an effort to not rant too much more (I have French paperwork calling my name), I will try to summarize my experiences here. Montbeliard is beautiful. It’s bigger than I expected but the ‘night life’ is smaller than I expected, as in non-existent…..as in not even restaurants are open on a Friday night. Ok there are a few, but it’s scarce. Maybe I have yet to explore the right areas of Montbeliard…but it’s not that big. We have a beautiful chateau, an old city center, a plethora of vibrant flowers (we’re a four flower city…apparently that’s the highest flower rating a city can get- it’s a weird French thing), beautiful rolling hills and lots of fog and rain. I have returned to New England. There are a few key differences though. It seems as though you can have multiple seasons all in one day. The morning usually starts off foggy and cold and turns into a full fledged summer or spring day by the late afternoon. And supposedly the seasons don’t last forever. Fall exists until early November and snow stays only for a month or two- not SIX!! Sorry. Still a little bitter about being robbed of spring for the last 6 years. I hope it’s different here….

Well of course it’s different here and so far I’m loving it. There are times when it can be overwhelming  not to know the language, but I’ve been surprised at my abilities to carry on a conversation or accomplish important tasks entirely in French. Living with roomies who communicate in French is also very helpful. Working in a highschool and speaking French with the teachers is beneficial as well. I’m working at two different schools- with 9 English professors in one and 3 in another. So far, I’ve only been observing the classes for the past 2 weeks. I start the teaching process next week which is both scary and exciting. I will have to write a different post entirely on the french school system, the teachers and the students because there is far too much to say. In so many words- France = relaxed and high school students aren’t scary but hilarious and adorable.

For now, that’s it. But this is only the beginning….