Back in Aix for school, Bradie and I spotted each other on the little sidestreet by school and grinned and cracked up. It was strange how odd it was to spend the week without seeing each other. She agreed. We recounted tales from our trips...her friend from home came to visit and they went to Paris and Lyon. But after being here only a month, she said, she couldn't believe how different she felt, as a person. When she was with her friend, Sara, she could sort of see and feel what she used to be like, which she enjoyed, but she felt like she was different now too. It's a hard thing to explain because no one can detect it from the outside. I told her I've been experiencing the same thing. It's too hard to describe to anyone who hasn't gone through it, and when she started telling me about it, I was excited to have someone who understood the feeling and could try to decipher it with me. You don't feel the change happening, and no one notices it on you either. It's entirely internal and mental, but it's so huge. I wish I could explain it here, and maybe I will be able to articulate it better later, but right now, while I'm still trying to understand it myself, I'm pretty worthless at describing.
Teaching. For me right now that is a synonym for 'most of the reasons I might remain childless'. Today I had to teach English to a 4th grade class. This is going to be an hour-each-week experience...possibly fatal. I have a partner named Mandie, and today we met our class for the first time and taught for the first time. Before starting all we knew was that the children would be 10 and 11 years old and that they would know a fair amount of English from their previous years of elementary school. We were expected to teach about the United States culture, but in English so the students could practice the language they've been learning.
Here is a description of our lesson plan:
1. Introduce ourselves with photographs. This is my house, this is my school, this is my family, etc. (Mandie this week, Pam next week)
2. Establish a rule of 'we will only speak English to you' (We found out that this leaves a mystery for the students as to how much french we 'really' know so that they don't think they can get away with saying things we don't understand. And it also keeps them from laughing at our accents and feeling superior)
3. Make name 'tents' out of craft paper to identify each child and they could draw one or two pictures of something they liked. While they are working we can go around to help with vocabulary and maybe ask for volunteers to share what they like.
4. Pass out a piece of paper where each child writes 2 things that they want to know about the United States.
5. Pass out a map of the United States where we could talk about where to find important cities or talk about vocabulary of land, if we have more time than we expect..."Ocean, desert, forest...what can you find in a forest? Animals, plants, etc.)
So we got into the class. It was small, and maybe thirty students. I already wanted to leave. But Mandie pulled out her pictures and began introducing herself and passing her photos around. The kids loved it. "Do you have questions for Mandie?" I asked. "How old are you?" one kid raised his hand and asked. "The name of your dog?" they used the phrases that they knew.
Then Mandie established the 'only english' rule, which sounded a little like this: "Well, now that you know who we are, we just kind of wanted to let you know that in terms of language in the classroom and everything, we're only going to be speaking English with you guys."
The kids looked at her, baffled.
I looked at her, baffled.
They started to murmur and I said "Do you understand Mandie?" and they shook their heads. So I said slowly "We will speak only English in class, okay? Do you understand?" a few shook their heads yes...
So we passed out the construction paper for making the name tents. The kids fought over colors...blue being the gem. Mandie demonstrated how to fold the paper in thirds, which about five children succeeded at. The rest we had to go around and help. When they wrote their names, they had problems too. One went up to Mandie worrying about what he should do when he spelled his name wrong. She folded the tent inside out and he was amazed at her ingenuity. Another girl came up to me wondering what she should do because she had written her name so small. I said she could cross it out and write on another side, but I might as well have told her to step on a baby bunny. The French are not okay with cross-outs.
We told them to write or draw something they like by their names. No one really did anything, so I explained in French, but still none of them really did anything, they kind of just talked amongst themselves. I started calling on students to show me what they drew and say what they liked, and so then they started drawing and writing. But now that they knew I spoke French, they were constantly asking me questions in French. I had broken my own rule. So I just continued to break it, because especially on this first day they seemed entirely freaked out by the English. Some kids didn't seem like they knew any at all. And it was a guilty pleasure to be the comforting teacher, the one they liked better. Shame on me.
But they kept talking, even after we would say "quiet!" (which we have been assured they know very well) and so Mandie said "you all need to stop talking because it's disrespectful to your neighbors". Later she told me that she knew that had been effective because she saw one boy look at her in amazement and so he knew she was serious.
""Or maybe he looked at you bewildered because he didn't understand what you said, seeing as how they don't know what we meant when we said "write two questions about the United States"
"Maybe" she replied.
Yes, that's the next thing. When the name tent fiasco was finished (if you could call it finished) I showed them how to unfold the tent and write on the other side. "Write two questions about the United States," I said, and I remembered how in French class they often say the same thing in two or three phrases in case you can catch on in one way and not another so then I said, with many hand motions, "write two things you like or do not like about the United States. The subject is the United States". No one knew what was going on, so I explained in French, and I said "you can write in French if you want." It took the kids a while to start writing anything at all. But when they did, they wrote it all in perfect English, so I really can't tell what their proficiency level is. I think they've had lots of writing instruction and not speaking/listening.
When class was over, we collected their papers and said good-bye.
This is going to happen nine more times this semester. Hopefully this was our 'learning experience' and the rest will be our teaching experiences.
Of course, I don't remember fourth grade being like that, though I'm sure it was. I always remember having to listen to the teacher and follow different activities, but that's because the teacher had better control of the classroom than me. School is so much different on the other side of the desk. I'm glad I didn't follow through with that whole 'being an English teacher' idea. As graduation nears, I wonder how Shannon's dad feels about year-round help on the farm. Actually, a friend I met here who loves to write and is actually professionally-good at photography started convincing me that I could do something really great for a career, like travel-writing. We started collaborating on travel-writing books. It won't pan out, of course, but it's fun to pretend like I could do that for a living. Enough self-talk! On to Colette's house...
When I got home from that class, Colette was finishing up mending a coat for a friend of hers. The friend came over a little while later and Colette introduced us and we had a little aperitif (none for me...I'm actually much happier without that rich sweet licquor). We started talking and I had this sort of out-of-body experience. I was listening to myself speak French, and it was just flowing from my mouth like, like, I don't know...like vomit. Like beautiful, perfect, gramatically-correct vocabulary-rich vomit. I didn't know I could speak french like that. The friend told me I spoke really good French and I tried to assure her that this was an anomaly, just ask Colette, but Colette was of course way too kind to admit my faults. We talked for an hour, and I kept thinking...why couldn't I have been this good at French when I was meeting French people my age at that little military ball a few weeks ago? Why couldn't I have been a little less embarassing then? The same person that said "I follow Pam" a few weeks ago was now saying "Quite the contrary, I find that many Americans hold their European ancestry very important to them. Notably the Irish and Italians."
I also found out tonight that the first of Colette's students had anorexia/bulemia. But I've learned from the past that when I try to say something light-hearted in response to something like that, such as "now I see why you feed me so much!" It only ends in complete embarassment because she doesn't respond light-heartedly and instead gets all serious and I feel so awkward. So I gravely nodded, consoled, and finished my meal.
