Coup de Grasse

It's over.

My last day of teaching was April 20th. I'm sorry that my entries have been rather few and far between recently, but I'm not sorry for all the day trips, dinners, vacations, lesson plans (had to mention those somewhere in here), and screenwriting sessions I've been too busy enjoying to write down. Here are links to a few photo albums, to help fill the gaps:

Krakow (My last spring break stop after Budapest, which was very un-cosmopolitan, very historic, and thus very cool. Also, incredibly reasonably priced and full of more good, hearty, meat-and-potatoes kind of food. Also, though you won't find the pictures in the album, I visited Auschwitz.)

Tende (A small town near the French/Italian border (check it out) reached by the aptly named Train des Merveilles ('Train of Marvels'). Erika and I did a day trip up here and found some terrific hikes, cool winding walkways in town, and a terrific lunch at the lovely husband-and-wife restaurant Le Gourmand.)

I also spent a whirlwind week showing my buddy David Adler around Paris and the Riviera. And I just got back from 4 days in Bologna, Italia, where I got to spend time with the wonderful Giulia Petruzzelli.

I would be lying if I said that the end of my teaching wasn't emotional, and I'd be a liar-liar-pants-on-fire (I wonder how you say that in French...) if I didn't mention the outpouring of affection I got from the kids and my fellow teachers. But first, a few general sound bytes to shamelessly build suspense.

Andy: "Do you like pizza?"
Kid: "I love you, pizza!"

Andy: "How are you?"
Other Kid: "I am hot and happy!"

I worked at three schools, and two of them gave me wonderful sendoffs... The first gave me a huge box of local specialty food products (first photo in this oddball album) and came pouring into one of the classes I was teaching to throw me a going-away party with Orangina, cookies, candy (including chocolates from favorite chain Jeff de Bruges), and a lot of adorable, tearful young children.

The other school finished off my unit on food in the best way possible. American breakfast for my three classes. And there were t-shirts. I can't describe them, and a photo won't do them justice. Ask me in person sometime, and if I can, I'll show you.

It was wonderful. Nice to know I'll be missed and that I did okay at the job that had be quaking in my sneakers last September. I'll take that as an exit from Grasse.

Oh, that's right... the teaching is over, but the blog is not. A few other things.

I'm living in Cannes now (for the month) because my folks are coming over to Europe at the end of May to do some quality traveling (there's a cruise... and fjords).

But until then, I'm just looking forward to attending the Cannes Film Festival. I was awarded a pass to attend screenings at a few of the theatres (not the big ones, since I'm not a professional, although word is you can beg tickets off people if you look good and they have extras). I'm pretty pumped about it... I get free access to lots of (hopefully great) movies and I'll be surrounded by film industry. Sweet. It runs from May 16-27.

I'll try to blog a bit about Cannes if I can (pun!), but I predict those days will be a bit hectic, and I'm not sure what internet will be like on the boat. So, for reference, I'm in Cannes until May 29, traveling until June 15th, and chilling in DC for two whole days before starting work at the 'Center for Talented Youth' at Johns Hopkins on June 18 (through August 7). No idea if they're gonna' renew my contract for next year, and -- hooray for France -- they're almost certainly not gonna' tell me before July. I'm not too worried, though.

I'm too busy thinking about movies.

-Andy

A Fable

Just as a side note, it has occurred to me since I first heard the real version of this story -- well before seeing Charlie Wilson's War -- that the zen master could be either very zen, or a neurotic who never gives up. Food for (nervous) thought.

There was once a zen master, a young man who knew well how to ride the frequently oscillating currents of life. This zen master also wrote screenplays, kept a blog, and (occasionally) taught adorable little French kids to speak English.

One day, the administration told the zen master he would be teaching all by himself. His neighbor consoled him for the hardship, but the zen master simply said:

"Well, we'll see."

It turned out his life was much simpler without having to coordinate unnecessarily with several teachers. "This is wonderful," his neighbor said. The zen master replied, "Well, we'll see."

Then, one day, the zen master's fellow teachers asked him to give his students evaluations, since no one else could. Everyone consoled the zen master, but again he replied, "Well, we'll see."

After grading tests for several hours, camera close by, the zen master returned them to students. He also posted several dozen photos of their funniest mistakes for friends and family to enjoy. "This is wonderful," the neighbor gushed, "These photos are great!"

"Yeah," the zen master replied, "They're freaking hilarious."

A Case of the Randoms

I promise you that, one day, my entries will go back to having some sort of organizing principle.

Today, however, is not that day.

...

Last week, I had my oldest kids playing "Point-To," which is about as simple as it sounds. I put a bunch of flashcards on the board, two kids come up, I say "Point to... 'Raining'!" (or "sunny" or "foggy" or "flunderstorming"). First kid to point to the right answer wins. They love it. Before we started on this particular day, I realized there were exactly 16 kids in the class.

OH SNAP IT'S TOURNAMENT TIME.

'Cause I know y'all just can't wait to see how this ends...

Final round, folks... place your bets.

Ta-da...!

...

A few of my classes had ski lessons scheduled for this week, where they would leave school as a class and go on a bus up to the mountains for their P.E. Those lessons were all cancelled because of unsafe driving conditions on snowy roads.

Ski lessons. Cancelled on account of snow. So French! SO FREAKING FRENCH!

...

This is a brick of peanuts. I bought it. And yes, a brick.

...

A dear friend of mine from back home, one David Adler, is coming to visit from April 21st-29th. It's gonna' be rockin' awesome. If you're reading this and likely to still be in Paris/Riviera during any of that time, let me know.

...

Andy: "What do we say when... *ah-CHOO*?"
Kids: "Bless you!"
Andy: "Good! And what do we say when... *cough*, *cough*?"
Kid: "Not bless you!"

...

G'night, folks.

-Andy

A Disconnected Mess of an Entry

First and foremost:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=edYHlnhxyOI

Now that your day has been brightened, hopefully you won't be as cross that I've got almost no governing principle behind this entry, other than a desperate desire to catch up with the present. Accept my apologies and (forthcoming) stories about adorable little French kids. Also, if you like, check out my updated photo album.



Since starting up again in January, I've introduced the weather as a unit of study. I had a lot of really good classes on it (although I'm getting the sense I need to either change my methods or move on to new material). I even dabbled in arts and crafts this time around, having them make more attractive versions of this thing:

Okay, so it's been riding around in my backpack a while.

But it's fun. They get to draw, they get to write the names of the weather, they have it as a study guide for the test I'll give in three weeks, and they get to turn it to whatever the weather is.

Speaking of weather... Beautiful for about 3 weeks. Then, today:

I had my first snow day in five years... which was fantastic. I want to take a minute to share my flatmate Erika's particularly French story about hers. She goes in, and half the teachers are on strike, half the students are missing because the buses are on strike, and then at 10:30 they close the school for a snow day even though there's no snow on the ground (yet).

French kids? French kids!

...

One day, one of the boys comes in with "an English song" on his flash drive that he wants to listen to it in class. "Oh, cool!" I think. Maybe this is like the kid in my oldest class who had lyrics and dance moves for 'Hello, Goodbye'. "This kid's really getting into English class, and maybe this is something I can use!" I take this kid's flash drive and look for the song. I find the song.

"Party Rock Anthem" by LMFAO.

...

Andy: "Today, it is chilly!"
Class: "Today, it is chully!"
Andy: "Chilly!"
Class: "Chully!"

...

Andy: "Hot and cold are opposites! Now, how is the weather today?"
Boy: "Today, it is opposite."

...

Andy (to one girl): "Chilly!"
Girl: "Chilly!"
Andy (to the girl): "What is your name?"
Girl: "Chilly! Uh, non..."

...

There's a little kid in the CP (ages 4-6) class who always goes to the bathroom around 9:55. I know because, on his way to and from, he spends a minute or two standing and watching from the hall just outside the space where I teach. Maybe it's me he finds different, but I rather suspect that that's how I looked when I was that age watching the bigger kids do what they do.

...

That's all I got for now.

Also, two good restaurants (mostly for pizza) that I've stumbled across in recent weeks (told you this entry was all over the place). Chez Xavier (in Cannes... more specifically, here) makes really good, reasonably priced wood-fire pizza in a charming setting that's secretly really close to everything. Second is Pizzeria Vesuvio, way over east in Menton (here) and thus close enough to Italy that any Italian dish you order will be good (same goes for the complimentary limoncello they served us after). Friendly service, too.

So, I put in to renew my contract for next year. Same region, unless they honor my request to transfer to Lyon (unlikely), but different town than Grasse, unless I don't have the final say in that matter (certain). I like being in France, working with the kids, having writing time (very productive, even if this blog doesn't show it), and riding out the storm of a tough job market back in the States. To my friends braving said hurricane, I wish you bon courage.

But I'm also doing it because I've learned a good deal of things, mostly from my students. Like this: next time you see lightning and hear rumbling afterward, don't be afraid, even if thunder usually scares you. Because, according to one of my kids, that's not a thunderstorm.

It's a flunderstorm.

-Andy

Only Lyon

So... my screenplay ate my blog. For a while: I met my draft deadline on that last Friday, so now I get to play more catch-up here. Which is nice, 'cause I missed this. Just to give you an idea of how far behind I am, this entry will recount the results of a brilliant last-minute decision I made. I booked train tickets, snagged a hotel room space, and spent the weekend of December 9-11 in Lyon for the annual Fête des Lumières ("Festival of Lights"). I am so glad I didn't miss it.

Yeah. I'm that far behind.

I almost didn't go, but thanks to some last minute cancellations (both mine and another assistant's), I snagged a spot in a hotel room and joined a few assistants from the Toulon area. Toulon is the big city in the 'Var' region of France, which is right next to the 'Alpes-Maritimes' region I inhabit. Regions are somewhere in between the sizes of America's counties and states. Both A-M and the Var are grouped together in the same administrative school zone, that's called an Académie, and that sense of nervous confusion you feel in trying to keep all this straight is just a taste of what it's like when I try to figure out exactly which organization I answer to as an English teacher.

Anyway, I booked tickets and hopped on the train on Friday afternoon, and spent most of the ride grading the tests I discussed (and photographed) at length last time. I got into Lyon around 7 and walked around a few hours before meeting the others back at the station, at which time we walked around some more.

In my walking-around time, I was immediately taken with just how cool this whole thing was. I don't know what you envision when you think of a festival of lights, but the Fête des Lumières is almost more like an art festival than anything else, but with exhibits based on light, color, and sometimes music. Artists with a range of renown do the installations, which you can find on event maps all over the city - in parks, in the middle of a particular sidewalk, by the river, and projected onto the walls of important public buildings.

Here are the photos. They are probably the most important part of this entry.

The festival runs that weekend in December every year, from the Thursday to the Sunday. I'm told the first and last nights are the best, and that includes a local opinion. That probably has something to do with the four million people pouring into the city to partake, mostly coming on Friday and leaving Sunday during the day. There were two times when we all got stuck in a jostling crowd of people so thick that we were packed together and literally could not move apart from the general flow of humans surrounding us, and hardly then. I can't help but think: that's what molecules of Nutella must feel like all the time.

The festival actually began as - and technically still is - a religious celebration in honor of the Virgin Mary (which is why it said "Merci Marie" in lights on the hilltop next to St. Mary's Basilica). The festival of lights began as Lyon citizens (called "Lyonnais") lighting candles in their windows all over the city. I'm told this still happens on the Thursday, but there was a lot of buzz this year about many Lyonnais boycotting that tradition as a protest against how commercial the festival has become. I kind of get that. But at the same time, the festival as I encountered it was pretty sweet. At the very least, you're generating a lot of money for the local economy, and you're doing that via a thriving creative endeavor. That last part isn't so easy...!

While the city was far too busy for us to get a table at a "bouchon," a traditional style of Lyon restaurant, we did eventually find a good dinner at Farfalla Caffè, a stylish little Italian place without throngs of tourists (like us!). Excellent stumble-upon. If you're in Lyon, try to get to one of the bouchons, but if you find yourself in the same position we did, the address is here.

Basically, we spent the weekend walking around. Lyon's a beautiful city, both during the day and during the festival, so we had good old touristy fun. Highlights included the center of town with its quaint shops and restaurants, Saint Mary's Basilica high on top of a hill with a stellar view of the whole city, vin chaud (hot, spiced wine) in the streets at night, and general marveling. We all had a good time and I plan to visit again when the weather gets warmer.

Also, I was just teaching my littlest kids, and one of them spent a good five minutes meditating while the others colored.

-Andy

Finals

We're all just going to pretend I wrote this two weeks ago. Cool? Cool.

It feels, in some ways, like I'm still in college. I spend a lot of my time hanging out with cool people my age, I spend overall very little time at school, there's some French in there somewhere, and I still have that good (bad) old end-of-semester crunch. The only difference now is that I'm the one making, giving, and grading the tests instead of simply studying for and taking them.

So, yes, I had to take care of everything involved with giving each of my 8 sections a test. There was a lot of overlap in subject matter... most everybody had to label basic parts of the body and a few had to match feelings to drawings (like sleepy or happy, which they often pronounce "appy"). My more advanced classes did days of the week, directions (N, S, E, W, etc.) with U.S. cities, and American money (e.g., "A penny is worth one cent."). There was an oral exam as well... My oldest class had to (one at a time) make small sums with actual American coins. Everyone else had to come out into the hallway (one at a time) and answer the four questions:

1.) Why is this night different from all other nights?
2.) Why do we have to eat matzoh for the next week solid?
3.) What are bitter herbs?
4.) Should we use blue pen, black pen, grey pencil, or colored pencil, and should we write in cursive or print?

Ha. Not really. But they actually ask me permutations of #4 all the time. For more details, go back to this entry.

They actually had to answer:

1.) What is your name?
2.) How old are you?
3.) Where do you live?
4.) How are you?

My oldest class had to use actual American coins to make a few small sums (6 cents, 35 cents, etc.).

...The results were pretty widespread, which made me more than a little nervous about my teaching ability, the merit of my tests, and other such things. But a handful of kids did very well, and one or two teachers told me the results were consistent with their expectations.

I should also note that grades in France don't necessarily follow the same expectations as grades in the States. In the U.S., the goal is generally 100%, because unless your teacher is a jerk (or makes the test unclear/too long), everything on the test has theoretically been covered in class. In France, however, the assumption is less strict. I've heard that, to some teachers in France, kids who get a C (or equivalent) are doing just fine.

Another example: before I started taking French university classes two years ago, I was told that, to get 18, 19, or 20 (out of 20), you basically had to be smarter than the professor, and they had to admit it.

I hope that's the case. My French is good now, but I started at age 5 and I sucked at it for a good ten or twelve years. So, I hope the grades aren't as big a thing, 'cause learning a foreign language takes a long time even with good teachers like mine.

The other heartening part of this whole testing thing was the wonderful new batch of English mistakes. Of these, the greatest hits can be found here.

So, all in all the whole process went well, even if it's the reason I'm so behind on blogging. I think I'll try motivating myself to test them more often this time so I can focus on just one or two subjects per test. I'd also like for their trimester grades to depend on more than just one exam. I'm still learning their 150+ names, though, so we'll see how that goes.

Happy 2012, everyone. With any luck, there shall be many more French adventures ("adFRENCHures?") to come.

-Andy

Close Enough For Government Work

Some of the kids call me "Teacher."

I would say that I don't know why, but that would mean I haven't noticed the very structured (this coming from me) and adult-revering educational system in which these children find themselves. Let me say it more sensationally.

I have discovered the source of French bureaucracy.

Until a week or two ago, my classes consisted almost entirely of oral exercises. We'd sing songs, drill words and structures, or play games. The procedure was clear and simple, they followed it, and nothing struck me as out-of-the-ordinary.

Then I added more written work. A sentence or two on the board for them to copy down in their notebooks. A direction to copy today's date and the days of the week on printer paper because that was the paper I found.

"Teacher? Teacher? What color pen should we use?"

"Teacher? Teacher? What page of the notebook do we write it on?"

And one from a kid in the class that got printer paper. This one's my favorite:

"Teacher? There are no lines on this paper."

Starting from a wee little age, French kids are taught to take notes and follow instructions just so. One color of pen(cil) for one sort of exercise/notes, another for the next, and a particular format to follow and style of cursive to be upheld. I can't tell you the number of times my 10-year-olds painstakingly write on the board in perfect cursive (boys included), only to even more painstakingly erase one or two letters to rewrite them the proper way, even though said letters were already perfectly legible (key word being "perfectly"). You should see how eager these kids are to hold up their copying and show me as I'm walking around just to make sure everyone's on task.

Erika corroborated this with her own observations from her high school exchange experience. When these kids grow up, their class notes are works of art. Paragraph form, color-coded by subject matter, impeccably formatted and indented. I take good notes, but even I use a little shorthand, and I know full well that a lone mechanical pencil is unsurpassed in utility: quick, eraseable, and fit for almost any handwritten task. But the trade-off is that my notes don't look professional. They're "close enough for government work," as my folks always say. Just, perhaps not close enough for this government's work.

It is little wonder, then, that an adult paperwork system with so many precise procedures thrives here... in a country where even 8-year-olds take notes just so, constantly checking with the teacher that they've got it exactly right.

...

So, what have I been doing with these kids, anyway? Most of them are still on basic stuff, but I've moved on to feelings ("I am happy," "I am thirsty," "I am angry," etc.) and days of the week. For my oldest class, I made up a worksheet to teach them directions (north, south, etc.), which doubled as a geography lesson about the United States. I've got a sheet about American money all ready to go for next week. That will be somewhat of a review: we've played "store" already with the American cash I had on me when I arrived and the various electronic devices I keep on me every day. Just to give you a better idea of what I'm up to, here's a peek inside my oldest class:

The kids are mostly getting it and they seem pretty enthusiastic still. I have the impression that my novelty is wearing off, as they're getting more comfortable (that's French for "rowdy") around me these days. I'm focusing now on varying the sorts of activities I do, so they don't write off English class as the place where they just do drills all the time. But even my most challenging class had a relatively good day on Tuesday. I'm content.

Let's see... other good moments recently...

Andy (the example question): "How old are you?"
Andy (the example answer): "I am 7 years old."
Student (to herself): "Uh... no."

Andy: "How are you?"
Student 1: "I am happy!"
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 2: "I am sleepy."
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 3: "I am slappy."

Let's end with a game of "Caption This Photo":

All Hallows

Forget Halloween as you experience it. Teenagers "trick-or-treating" without a costume and/or TP'ing your house (if you're Larry David and don't give them candy), adult parties where the costumes are basically polyester pick-up lines, or your and your friends' real costumes, which are variously clever, abstract, elaborate, inside jokes, gory, and/or downright genius. No, no - scratch all that. Think of all the most basic elements and images of Halloween. Ghost costumes, kids carrying cute little bags of candy, going door to door with smiles once a year...

That distilled version of Halloween? The one they (and I) teach in elementary school? That's Halloween in France.

I had asked a teacher (who was instrumental in the construction of my costume) at one of my schools if her kids were going trick-or-treating. Oh yes, she said (in French): a skeleton, a devil, a ghost, and she was going to be a witch. These were pretty much the same costumes I saw on kids who were running around the center of town on the afternoon of the Monday in question. It was pretty adorable. But it struck me that, as far as celebrating is concerned, they really don't spring for the theatrical over here. No Halloween specialty stores (perhaps for the better, but who knows), no fake blood on sale to complete your vampire costume, and unless you already dress like Jack Sparrow, good luck pulling off anything that ambitious. Over here on Halloween, it seems like they're grinning (or shrugging) and bearing it because everybody else in the world seems so into it.

As for Halloween At The Assistants'?

Well...

Creative? Perhaps not. Appropriate? Absolutely.

Ella and Katie joined us for dinner, which was a nice treat. Erika's delicious pumpkin soup and pie went nicely with a bottle of wine and my homemade... candy... I still can't cook.

...

I came back to work Thursday. Same as before, really. The kids all come running up shouting "Hello!" (often several times) and I say "Hello!" back in as many different voices as I can think of. They all pay oddly close attention during my largely repetition-based lessons on "How old are you?", "Where are you from?" - this week we added feelings and "How are you?"... Just like before the break, They seem to love it (and mostly get it), and just like before the break, I feel like things can't keep going this well without Karma getting steamed.

Before break, I mentioned my Halloween lessons, where I mini-mohawk-ed my hair to demonstrate my Tintin costume and gave out little caramel bars at the end of class when the kids would come up and say "Trick or Treat!" and "Happy Halloween!".

What I don't think I mentioned: one of my kids gave me a picture of a jack-o'-lantern he colored in (rather neatly). Just... for me to have. Another student left me with these exact words:

"Andy, you are my favorite teacher in English."