Mes Eleves et Mes Etudiants.
I started working last November in Moulins. It is an agriculture Lycee, so my students ranged from Middle School to "Vo-Tech" level. I am not sure of the actually numbers, but it seems that a good 80% of my students were boys, which made the experience even more interesting. Also, I picked up a job working for the Universite Blaise Pascal teaching the "senior" undergraduates English as well. Across the board, I have enjoyed my time with them.
"What's your phone number?" or "Do you have a boyfriend?" or "Do you want to go to B-Box with me?" were the questions I was plagued with at the beginning of the semester. For each new class that I taught, I would have to answer a series of questions about my life in the U.S. Sometimes they were jealous of American life (how easy it is to get a drivers license) and sometimes they were disgusted by it (what do you mean, you don't have Saucisson?)
I remember the time that a boy in class tried to take a picture of me underneath his desk. He was just your normal troublesome boy, so I laughed. He gave me the most desperate look, "Please don't tell the teacher." I merely shook my head and pointed at him sharply to say, "If you do it again, I will set her loose on you." Then there was the boy who asked me at the end of class if I liked honey. I said 'Yes' of course, and he handed me the most adorable little bottle of honey that had been harvested at the school. Such friendliness is rarely found in the adults of this country, and to me, these students will always be the ones who brought me in.
They were really the ones who taught me to speak French. I can write it, no problem. But in that moment where you are alone staring at 20 students who are completely confused, you have to try your best to spit something out to explain it. I always enjoyed the surprised looks on there faces when I spoke French, as if they thought I'd lived in this country without even trying to speak it. At the same time, I sort of had done that. Living among International Students where English is the most commonly shared language meant that my French speaking practice was limited to class. But with my students, it was necessary.
And the teachers were such a help as well. They offered me coffee every hour, food every month, cheese after lunch, wine, etc. They would be so patient with me when I spoke French, and they helped me with my homework more than once. They never patronized me. They smiled at me and invited me to lunch, to sit with them, and share in a little conversation.
I will never forget the Christmas meal cooked for me by my professor, and the Spring lunch cooked for me by my BTS students. From oysters to Foie Gras to pear pie, these delicious kindnesses have made my time here feel valuable. And for that, I will always be grateful.
"What's your phone number?" or "Do you have a boyfriend?" or "Do you want to go to B-Box with me?" were the questions I was plagued with at the beginning of the semester. For each new class that I taught, I would have to answer a series of questions about my life in the U.S. Sometimes they were jealous of American life (how easy it is to get a drivers license) and sometimes they were disgusted by it (what do you mean, you don't have Saucisson?)
I remember the time that a boy in class tried to take a picture of me underneath his desk. He was just your normal troublesome boy, so I laughed. He gave me the most desperate look, "Please don't tell the teacher." I merely shook my head and pointed at him sharply to say, "If you do it again, I will set her loose on you." Then there was the boy who asked me at the end of class if I liked honey. I said 'Yes' of course, and he handed me the most adorable little bottle of honey that had been harvested at the school. Such friendliness is rarely found in the adults of this country, and to me, these students will always be the ones who brought me in.
They were really the ones who taught me to speak French. I can write it, no problem. But in that moment where you are alone staring at 20 students who are completely confused, you have to try your best to spit something out to explain it. I always enjoyed the surprised looks on there faces when I spoke French, as if they thought I'd lived in this country without even trying to speak it. At the same time, I sort of had done that. Living among International Students where English is the most commonly shared language meant that my French speaking practice was limited to class. But with my students, it was necessary.
And the teachers were such a help as well. They offered me coffee every hour, food every month, cheese after lunch, wine, etc. They would be so patient with me when I spoke French, and they helped me with my homework more than once. They never patronized me. They smiled at me and invited me to lunch, to sit with them, and share in a little conversation.
I will never forget the Christmas meal cooked for me by my professor, and the Spring lunch cooked for me by my BTS students. From oysters to Foie Gras to pear pie, these delicious kindnesses have made my time here feel valuable. And for that, I will always be grateful.
posted by Jesi E. at 11:16 AM
1 Comments:
Hi Jesi,
Barb here. I hope you are well, my friend. Long time since we have communicated. These small kindnesses of which you speak are the most precious moments in life, especaially when away from home. As I hear it, you are returning soon. I hope to see you and have you visit when you can. You are always welcome at our home. And, if you like, you may speak French just for fun, if you like. :)
love you,
barb
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