Last Thursday, I was released into the wild (i.e. on my own in a classroom without any teacher present), to try to teach the children of Saverne about American culture and the English language. Class breakdown of my day went as follows:
Class 1: Premières. 16-17 years old. For the most part well behaved. For the most part don’t speak or understand English at all. I thought to myself, this should be interesting. Sylvie, the professor whose class this was, had given me a Harry Potter movie poster to work on with them. She gave it to me and said, “discuss”. As far as I am concerned, this does not exactly constitute a lesson plan. So, it was up to me to come up with an impromptu lesson on Harry Potter. How many kids in the class had read the books or seen the movies? One. Um, serious difficultly here. Basing a lesson plan on a book or movie that practically no one in the class has read or seen is nearly impossible. So what to do? Well, we worked on questions. Who, what, where, when, why, how. That’s right. Something you learn when you’re about 6 when learning a foreign language. However, these kids had some trouble forming sentences with these words. I have my work cut out for me.
Class 2: Nothing special. Moving on.
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| Patty Melt |
Class 3: Secondes. 15-16 years old. Very well behaved. Basically speak no English. Project for the day? Restaurant vocabulary and a typical American menu. Going through the menu, I tried to pick out the most “American” items to explain to the kids – hamburger, hot wings, onion rings, Caesar salad, Prime Rib, etc. I purposely skipped over the ones I had no idea how to explain. Case and point? The patty melt. To be honest, I don’t even know what a patty melt is. In fact, I just googled it. Essentially it’s the same thing as a hamburger (for all of you who, like me, aren’t wise in the ways of all meat and cheese creations). Seriously, America? Why is it even a different sandwich?
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| "Typical" American Menu |
Anyway, I thought that we could spend half the class going through the menu, and the other half going over typical questions you would ask your waiter, what a waiter might ask you, etc. But no, it took the full hour to go over the menu! Explaining what “hot wings” are, was incredibly difficult. Since they’re not technically wings, and actually legs, but with “chicken legs in spicy sauce” not sounding amazingly appetizing, it was tough to get the idea across. Needless to say, I don’t think any of them will be ordering hot wings upon arrival in the US. If they ever venture outside of France.
Class 4: Terminales. 17-18 years old. My objective for these classes is to prepare them for the oral part of the bac. In this class we worked on a really interesting document (see the cartoon below). Dora the Explorer, every American child’s favorite explorer, as an illegal Mexican immigrant getting her mug shot and being beat up in jail. Interesting, huh? Leave it to the French to find things that make Americans look bad. (This was a teaching “gift” from another professor) But we actually had some stimulating conversations about how this relates to what Sarkozy did in France by kicking out all the Romanians. Turns out, French kids aren't such big fans of Nicolas. Actually, as it turns out, most of France is not.  |
| Immigration "document" for class. |
Class 5: Secondes. 15-16 years old. Well behaved, spoke great English. Thank god. Subject for the day? Halloween! It was so much fun to talk about American Halloween (No one dresses up here, trick or treats, or does anything fun. Totally boring). We went around the room, saying what each of us would be for Halloween if we were going to dress up. There were witches, Frankensteins, mummies, zombies, devils, a pumpkin (the one boy in the class who wears an all-orange outfit every day, no joke), etc. When I told them that I had been a butterfly one year, Minnie Mouse another, a tsunami last year (my whole house was weather patterns…), they thought I was crazy. One kid goes, “Well, that’s not very Halloween.” Naturally I asked what he meant by that. He replied, “It’s not mean or scary.” Guess they’re totally into the sinister over here. They also couldn’t believe that kids took pillowcases out on Halloween and filled them with candy. Typical American excess!
Class 6: Terminales. Miserable human beings. They were so badly behaved; I almost kicked a girl out! And they’re mostly 17. I mean honestly, you are no longer a child at this age, you know how to behave. And let me tell you, I can be mean, mean, mean when someone misbehaves in my class. I have one rule - don’t talk while I’m talking (typical teacher rule). This girl spent the ENTIRE class talking, and flirting, and being disruptive. Again let me say, teachers, I do not envy that you have to deal with this day in, day out, for years on end. If she comes back, best believe I will whip her into shape! In this class we worked on a Nicorette advertisement, which none of them really seemed to understand. Why quit smoking? It’s fun! Needless to say, my views are somewhat different…
Friday was an equally long day. I got up at the crack of dawn to visit the bank and post office before I hopped the tram and train to work. Dear post office, my mom sent me a package in the mail 3 weeks ago, may I please have it? Sorry, we have no record of your package and we are too busy to look for it. Leave your name, and we might potentially find the time to look, and if we so feel like it, we will call you and let you know if it is here. Never going to happen. Better question: why haven’t I been getting my mail? Because France is in a state of complete and total disaster right now. Perhaps I should explain.
Oh wait, I did explain didn’t I? In my last blog, if you care to look. Well yes, the protests about raising the retirement age a measly 2 years are still going on. I haven’t gotten my mail in 3 weeks, or my trash collected in about the same time. We haven’t had normal train or tram schedules, and many students and teachers are on strike. Basically it is incredibly difficult to get anything accomplished. So on Friday morning, after visiting the post office and the bank (to FINALLY get a credit card after 5 weeks of living in France, ugh), I was on my way to the train in plenty of time. Or so I thought. Because most the tram employees are protesting, essentially less than half of the Strasbourg trams are running. Including those to the train station. I waited, and waited, and waited for a tram. Eventually one came, but I got to the train station 2 minutes after my train to school had left. The next train – canceled. And the one after that, also canceled. I waited at the train station from 9am until 11am, when I could finally get a train out to Saverne. I missed two of my morning classes. For anyone who knows me and my type A personality, you know I was apoplectic at missing two classes this early into my job. I frantically emailed the professors whose classes I was missing, and called the school. Only the woman at the school got my message wrong, and told all of the teachers I wouldn’t be there for the whole day. What a mess. I eventually got to school in time for my free period. Perfect timing. After lunch, I observed a class of Seconds, studying detective stories, and was lucky enough to follow that by teaching the worst class of all time.
Class 4: Premières. 16-17 years old. I had a really interesting lesson planned, based on American advertisements. Too bad one boy wrought complete and total havoc. Until I put him in his place, that is. Remember how I said I could be mean? Well, talking throughout my class just really doesn’t fly. I can’t hear myself think when others are loud and disruptive. And he was. So, I yelled. And then I gave him the evil eye multiple times until he shut up. Then he was the last to be able to pick out his ad, and that was the end of my problems. In the second half of my class, he was actually the one to answer the most questions and speak up the most. Ha! What a disciplinarian I can be. Care to know something interesting? Well, as I said, this class was based all on American advertisements. I had brought 15 ads with me to school that I had ripped from People magazine, Sports Illustrated, National Geographic, or something along those lines. I set the ads out on the table, and said that the students could come up one by one and pick out the ad they wanted to study for their project. The first one chosen? McDonalds. I was not at all surprised. It’s so typical. In fact, as I write this, I am sitting in the McDonalds in downtown Mulhouse (southern Alsace), staring out the window onto the giant protest going on below. Oh, how I love France. (“McDo” has free wifi, people.)
I have to admit, I was incredibly tempted to buy a Big Mac today. One of my classes asked me to do a little experiment. They wanted me to go to a McDonalds here and see if the Big Mac tastes the same as it does at home. Small problem – I have never in my life had a Big Mac in the US. So, why not do it in the reverse order? I’ll eat one here, and then go home and eat one, and tell them what I think when I come back. Standing in line, I was seriously thinking about it. So what did I choose in the end? What am I having as I write this? Diet coke. I couldn’t break down just yet…especially since I already had fast food once this week. But I’ll explain that later.
I have to admit, I was incredibly tempted to buy a Big Mac today. One of my classes asked me to do a little experiment. They wanted me to go to a McDonalds here and see if the Big Mac tastes the same as it does at home. Small problem – I have never in my life had a Big Mac in the US. So, why not do it in the reverse order? I’ll eat one here, and then go home and eat one, and tell them what I think when I come back. Standing in line, I was seriously thinking about it. So what did I choose in the end? What am I having as I write this? Diet coke. I couldn’t break down just yet…especially since I already had fast food once this week. But I’ll explain that later.
So back to Friday. My last class was amazing. I had a class of Terminales with a “Euro” concentration, which means they are very internationally minded, and want to explore and travel, and study other countries. Just like me 5 years ago. And for the record, NOT typical French, if you wanted to know. They were so interested in what daily life is like in the US, in what my hobbies are, in what my friends are like, if the boys are cuter in the US, what French food I liked, etc, that we spent the whole class just chatting. I left the classroom laughing and smiling – it was a good way to end week 3 of work.
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| Ebru, Yildiz, and Me |
I got home, quickly changed, and rushed back out to a friend’s for a dinner party. My responsibility was to bring the wine. Normally expensive in the US, right? Well, I volunteer to bring wine over in France. Why? Bottles of wine are 1 euro. ONE EURO. It is amazing. And it tastes better than most of what we have in the US, to be perfectly honest. First on my list of “Pros” for living in France. Jen, my friend who was hosting the dinner party, has a pretty nice set up. She lives in Neudorf, a residential suburb of Strasbourg, in a house with 3 really nice girls, Ebru, Yildiz, and Barbara. Remember them from my last blog? Anyway, Jen, who is from LA, but whose family is from Louisiana, decided she would do some down home cooking for
dinner. The menu? Slightly absurd and not even really “down home”, but here goes: chips and guacamole for an appetizer, bruschetta for appetizer number 2, followed by a 3-cheese macaroni and cheese, then a pasta dish with grilled chicken and vegetables. That’s right – macaroni and cheese and THEN pasta. Like most southern cooking, everything was made with copious amounts of butter, cheese, and in this case, crème fraiche. I tasted each item on her menu, and almost died of instant heart attack. After dinner I was so full I couldn’t move, and I swear I probably clogged half of my arteries. Note to self: must go on 5 runs to make up for what I ate. I was so full that I couldn’t even roll myself home. I spent the night at their house, and made my way home Saturday morning.
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| Looks gross, but it was so good. |
Saturday. MOVING DAY. For those of you who don’t already know. I moved. Two days ago. I used to live in an apartment by the University of Strasbourg. Now I live in a village outside Mulhouse. Remember Saint Amarin, where I visited last weekend? Well I live here now. Population: 250. And it really is incredible! I moved for multiple reasons, but a huge push for the move was the money that I will be saving while living in this tiny town. The rent is less than a third of what I paid in Strasbourg, with all utilities included. I have always said that I wanted to find a job and living situation that would allow me to travel while I am here, and now I have it! I’m living with my Irish friend, Aoife. We have a nice 4-bedroom apartment to ourselves, and I must admit, I quite like country living. Yesterday I went to the grocery store, which is about a 15-minute walk from our apartment, to get a bunch of stuff I needed. Since I knew I would be moving, I hadn’t bought groceries in weeks, and this was to be a big shop. After I got through the line and loaded up my giant bag full of stuff (and heavy stuff, at that), I knew my walk home would not be fun. The bag was heavy. I was struggling up the hill outside Simply, our store, when a nice old man stopped his car, asked me where I was going, and asked if he could give me a lift. I gladly accepted (And no, I’m not stupid. He was 80, I knew I could overpower him if he tried to kidnap me). He asked if I was planning to go all the way to Saint Amarin with my heavy bag. I said yes. He said, “Oh no, no. That just won’t do.” I hopped in the car, and we got to chatting. In fact, he spent most of the ride back giving me a recipe for choucroutte, a Alsacian regional specialty (sausage and saurkraut cooked in lard from what I gather, yum). He dropped me off and said that he looked forward to seeing me back at the store so I could give him news on what I was up to. What a nice man. This NEVER would have happened in Strasbourg. One point for small town life.
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| Don't judge. |
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| Have you ever seen a bucket in real life? It's huge. |
One more week of school and vacation starts on Friday! Off to Paris and then Ireland…more news soon!
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