Utopia

Today a group of my students invented a new country called "Ninasland." Its main industries were bio (organic food) and "nuclear," the state religion was Buddhism, and neither censorship nor the death penalty existed. Only people who really wanted to live there and were ready to work were allowed to immigrate.

The main drawback to Ninasland was that it's forbidden for humans to marry animals. Tant pis. 

This goat better get gone before Ninaslandians go all NIMBY on it.

What did you do this weekend?

"I make zuh party wiz my fwend."
With just one other friend?
"Wiz my fwend-ZUH."

"I play zuh veedeogame."
Which game did you play?
"Collodoody."
What?
"Collodoody."
I'm not familiar with that one. Is it a French game?
"Coll...ov...doo-tee."

"I going in my muzzah."
That means you went inside your mother.
"I going in my muzzah 'ouse."

"I make zuh shopping."
One goes shopping. What's the past tense of to go?
"I make go shopping."

"I doing my 'omeworks."
Try again in past tense.
"I have do my 'omeworks."
Try again.
"..."
I did my homework. Homework is singular.
"I deed my 'omeworks."
Did you practice your English?
"Euh... no."

Where the magic happens

I realized that I've never shared with you the place where I indoctrinate young minds. Want a tour? OK!

Here's my salle, in all her glory. What's not pictured is the particularly springy leather chair that my students can't resist bouncing in like little kangaroos. Also not pictured is the secret room behind the chalkboard where I keep extra handout copies, incredible prizes for when I play games, and the carcasses of all the cell phones I've had to kill when I see my students texting on them during class.

The one teaching tool I have at my disposal is that chalkboard. And boy, is it a beaut:

It has tape stuck all over it and one inexplicable giant gouge in its upper left region. It's actually really hard to write legibly on chalkboards. Plus the kids already have a hard enough time reading my sloppy handwriting that is not at all up to French Perfect Script standards. Sorry kids.

I've been teaching for about five months now, and I feel like I'm finally getting the hang of it. I know what kinds of discussions gets them excited (stereotypes! Facebook! American high school life!) and what bores them to tears (politics! American football! racism!). My classes the last couple of weeks have been consistently good (well... there's still one class that casse-s my couilles, but the rest of them are petits anges), and, of course, highly entertaining.

One of my most amusing lessons to date has been on speed dating. I cut these pictures out of some magazines with my children's left-handed scissors and taped them to construction paper left over from my Francegiving decorations.  I don't have my camera cord on me so I had to angle my laptop's webcam over the table to take this picture. I really hope no one was spying on me when I did this, because boy was it awkward.

I asked the students to come up with a profession for their character, three of their likes and dislikes, and five qualities they're looking for in a partner. After a group of seniors had speed dated each other, I asked them to share what they had come up with. The girl who had chosen Kelly Osbourne ("Joan"), had decided that her character was a secretary looking for a man to do the cooking and cleaning. "And I 'ate chill-ren!" she said. "I 'ate zem I 'ate zem I 'ate zem!"

I now use her as  a cautionary tale in other classes as to why aspirating your "h" is so very important.

As my time here draws to a close --I only have one more month to teach them about processed foods and gun laws and private healthcare and all the other really wonderful things about America-- I've been reflecting on all the things this experience has taught me. I had a sneaking suspicion before I left that being a foreign language teacher might just be the coolest job on the planet. And guess what? I was right. I'm so grateful to all my little ninnymuggins (pronounced nee-nee-moo-gahn) for helping me distill what I want to be when I grow up.

Vous me manquerez. 

Stylish? Moi?

This morning I was mining my blog stats (because if anything gets me going in the morning, it's statistical analysis... um, I'm serious) and saw that some traffic had been sent my way by Melissa at Fashion Me French. Turns out this Lyonnaise crowned me with a Stylish Blog Award two weeks ago, and I failed to notice because I was really busy stuffing my face with gelato and breasola-grana-rucola pizza for a fortnight. Merci Melissa!

Melissa has obviously never witnessed my sartorial choices in person, or she probably would have thought twice about giving me this particular award. Fart of the Week was much more appropriate.

Nevertheless, my duties as a "Stylish Blogger" are to tell you seven things about myself and then to pass the honor on to another worthy blogger. Without further ado, here are seven tidbits you always knew you never needed to know about Neenuh:

1. I have developed an appreciation for cured pork products. Before coming to France I was a very good Jew and abstained from pigs aside from the extremely sporadic piece of bacon. But les cochons are a bit more difficult to avoid here in Franceland. Lardons, little flavorful cubes of delicious bacon, are freaking everywhere, in boeuf bourguignon, tartiflette, and oeufs en meurette, to name but a few of my favorite local dishes. Lardons were my gateway drug. Now I'm eating... (you're going to want to cover your eyes, Tribesters)...  saucisse sèche with delightful noisettes sprinkled throughout. It's like kosher salami but better. The thought of eating a pork chop or any big chunks of nitrate-free pork still makes me gag, so that means I won't be smite-d with a lightening bolt, right?

2. I watched a lot of crime shows growing up, and as a result I spent much of my childhood free time practicing going up and down our creaky stairs without making a noise. This skill has come in handy exactly twice. I also make a point to leave a good set of fingerprints whenever I'm in a car just in case the driver decides to abduct me.

3. Sometimes I dance like this:

4. My parents sent me a box of sundry items this fall that contained glasses I stopped wearing my sophomore year of college, Twilight fan magazines and posters, and a tube of Gold Bond medicated foot cream. Thanks Ma and Pa!

5. I miss things about Portland, OR every day of my life, including but not limited to: the man who would play his bagpipes while unicycling outside of the Saturday farmers market; the bike racks around which someone knitted a bike rack sock; the thick plastic glasses, ironic haircuts and all the plaid; our pink velour pullout couch that wasn't all that comfortable but I really liked having a pink velour couch; getting shamed for not frequenting my local independent video store and not using organic laundry detergent and not composting and actually bathing every day; Dingo the Clown Wizard and his open mic nights. But what I miss most of all is the fat cat that hung out around our apartment and always tried to sneak in through an open window while I was sleeping.

6. I'm constantly worried about the Dude getting lost. On our last day in Paris he told me he was going to meet me at the front doors to the Centre Pompidou at 3:00. I got there at 2:50. At 3:15 I figured he had been transfixed by the vulgar paintings on the second floor. At 3:30 I thought he must have found someone really interesting to talk to who was actually a witch in disguise, and he was powerless to leave of his own accord. At 3:45 I was convinced that the plexiglass tubes on the outside of the building had transformed into suctionators and he was being Augustus Glooped to lord-knows-where. At 4:00, I vowed that if I ever saw him again I was going to kill him, but then reneged when he finally arrived at 4:05 and I got lost in his pretty blue eyes.

7. Yesterday I asked my students to tell me what they did during their vacations. One told me, "I stolen seengs." I thought perhaps I had misheard, and asked, "T'as volé quelque chose? T'es un voleur?" I pantomimed snatching something. He affirmed. "What did you steal?" I asked him. "Zuh shooing-gum." "But why? Don't you have money?" "Si, j'ai des sous," he said, "boot ay no want pay foh zuh shooing-gum." This is the same student, by the by, who when I asked for New Years resolutions told me he wanted to, "fook more my wayf." I guess that's not really something about me, aside from the fact that nothing gives me more joy than transliterating the accents of my students.

I now pass the Stylish baton to my girl Emily of Emily in the Glass, who writes so beautifully it hurts. Plus I know for a fact that she is indeed a very stylish lady, and is the owner of a wool coat with the fanciest silk lining I've ever seen.

The correct response is, "Who is Robert Pattinson?"

Today I played a trivia game with some sophomores. One of the questions asked the students to name the British actor who starred in two of the decade's most successful fantasy franchises: Harry Potter and Twilight.

The students whose turn it was were absolutely stumped. "Euh...vampire?" they asked. "Yes, he played a vampire. But what was the actor's name?" Other students tried to help them out by calling out the names of the French versions of the Twilight books.

"Fascination!"

"Hésitation!"

"Tentation!"

And then one student yelled, "Pénétration!"

I probably should have punished him. I definitely shouldn't have started giggling. But dang, that was clever.

The most adorable two hours of my week

I ran into one of the English teachers from the local middle school at the cantine a few weeks ago, and he requested that I come into some of his classes of sixièmes (10- and 11-year-olds) to talk about about what life was like for their compatriots across the pond.

After enlisting the help of fabulous Texas middle school teacher Aberdeen, who was also in my French classes of yore at the U of M, I compiled answers to the teacher's list of questions: How long is the school day? Do the students wear uniforms? What kinds of clubs are available? What food do they have in the cafeteria? Etc. (Thanks Aberdeen! Now everyone go read her blog.)

I got to the classroom a bit early, and the students were crowding around the door, waiting for their teacher. They. Were. Adorable. Some of them seemed barely 3 feet high, and they just had the cutest little French faces. Once they discovered that I was The American talking to them that day they encircled me and chirped, "'Ello! Good afternoon! 'Ow ah yoo!"

When the teacher came he unlocked the door and they filed in, each repeating, "Good afternoon!" before going to their desk. They all stood politely beside their chairs until they were told to sit down. They started the class by practicing their questions. The teacher would prompt them in French, telling them to ask me things like whether I had any brothers or sisters. Those who knew the sentence structure would point their index finger in the air and moan, "Mister! Mister!" when they wanted to be called upon. Some of the questions I was asked included:

Do yoo lahk flowers? Do yoo lahk Michael Jackson?* What ees your address mail? Haff yoo got a boyfriend? Do yoo spek Portuguese? Do yoo spek...attend...c'est quoi le mot...Chinese? What ees your telephone numbah? Do yoo beleef in Fazzer Christmas? Do yoo lahk leesen zuh blues? What your muzzer do for job? Do yoo lahk your fiancé? Do yoo sink Barack Obama ees good president? Do yoo haff an animal pet? 'Ow old ah yoo?

For the latter I told them 25, and they whispered among themselves trying to decide what that translated to in French (numbers in another language are always so hard). One of them announced, "Elle a trente-sept ans! (She's 37 years old!)"

After my interrogation was over, I told them about life in America. They were envious that students there get out of school at around 2:30 or 3:00--here they have school until 6:00--but astonished that Americans have to go to school all day on Wednesdays. Elementary students here have Wednesdays off, and everyone else only goes to school till noon. They were similarly incensed that the kids only had about a half hour for lunch. Here they get two hours.

The Duluth Public Schools lunch menu was another source of envy. Several clutched their chests and smacked their lips when I told them their friends overseas enjoyed chicken nuggets for lunch last Friday. They also thought Rotini Hotdish sounded divine, which means I did not explain it correctly. Turkey hot dogs, however, did not sound as appetizing to them. They were impressed at the number of sports available for students, and that if you're a member of a high school team you practice your sport every day after school. Jaws literally dropped.

I offered to teach them the "We've got spirit, s-p-i-r-i-t spirit" cheer, which is always a big hit. They were amazed at the complicated clapping that accompanies it, and when I finished I got a deafening round of applause. When the bell rung the teacher told them all to thank me, and I got a chorus of adorable gratitude.

One student, who still hasn't mastered his "th" sound, beamed and yelled, "F**k yoo!"

*Fun fact: The school has a Michael Jackson club.

Those Puritan Hearts Will Go On

Today I played an American trivia version of Jeopardy with some seniors.

A: This is the name of the ship that brought the Pilgrims to New England in 1620. 

Q: What is... Titanic?

From the mouths of babes

Last evening it started blizzarding in Digoin, and didn't quit until this morning.  I thought for sure classes would be canceled since the buses weren't running anywhere in the Saone-et-Loire department, but apparently they're obligated to have classes, even if the only people who are able to show up are those who live in the dormitory.

I had tiny numbers in all my classes, and not a soul showed up to my 10:00 one. I had only three students in my last class of the day, and decided to use my Chat Pack in lieu of a real lesson. The Chat Pack consists of hundreds of questions intended to get a conversation started, everything from, "If you won $1 million, what are the first three things you would do or buy?" to "If you could be anywhere in the world on New Year's Eve, where would you be and why?"

Luckily the three kids in the class were real characters, and gave the following amusing answers to the Chat Pack's scintillating questions:

Q: If you could uninvent any invention, what would it be?
A: Crazy people.

Q: What movie had the biggest emotional impact on you?
A: La Rafle (a film about the horrors of the Holocaust). And Titanic.

Q: Who is the most famous person you've ever met in real life?
A: My boyfriend (one of the two other students in the room).
Q: Where is your boyfriend famous?
A: Everywhere in France.
Q: What is he famous for?
A: Being handsome.

Q: If you were to die tomorrow, what trait would you want your friends to remember you for?
A: That I'm lucky.
Q: Do you mean that you're lucky to have your friends in your life?
A: No. I'm lucky in games.

Q: If you were to write an autobiography, what would the title be?
A: My Horrible Life.

Father Thanksgiving

Me: What's a subject you'd like to discuss when we have our classes together?
Student: Sanksgeefink!
Me: Tell me what you know about Thanksgiving.
Student: Fazzer Chreesmas come and gif everyone muhnee.
Me: Um... Are you thinking of Christmas? Father Christmas waits until Christmas to come. He doesn't come on Thanksgiving.
Student: But yes! Fazzer Chreesmas come and gif zuh muhnee and zuh geefts.
Me: I promise you, there is no Father Christmas on Thanksgiving. There's a big meal and people spend time with their families. No presents.
Student: But I saw eet on zuh Seempsons!

Lycée Camille Claudel, Home to the Purple and Blue Cows

I finally started teaching yesterday after several weeks of introducing myself and observing. My first class was with the "Euro" seniors-- a designation for advanced students like AP or IB-- and I prepared a lesson for them about the use of attack ads in American elections. I showed them McCain's "celebrity" ad on Obama, and used an Obama ad where he compared McCain to Bush. I asked them to think about how they used images and music to manipulate the viewers. I did the same with Tarryl Clark/Michele Bachmann ads, and asked them which they found most convincing and why.

It was pretty successful, forcing the students to think critically. I was brimming with confidence going into my next class, with seniors who have specialized in English. I brought them a video the Duluth tourist office made about the city, thinking the kids would be excited to see where I come from. I'm in a really tiny room with nowhere to put my laptop, so I had to awkwardly hold it aloft so they could see. If you've never seen "Fresh Duluth," it's about 30 minutes worth of Lake Superior porn, cut with interviews with locals. Many of them zoned out, so I kept pausing it to say, "Pauline, what just happened?" "Euh... eye don' kno'." "Is that because you weren't paying attention?" "....yis." It was somewhat of a disaster.

Today I had two groups of sophomores, and I prepared a lesson for them about school spirit. The kids here go to school from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., and they don't have any extra-curriculars. No sports teams. No music ensembles. No assemblies. No mascot. No school colors. I brought in my Duluth East High School yearbook and tried to explain these foreign concepts.

Next I taught them some cheers from my high school. They really got into the clapping and stomping as they chanted:

"Oo rocks zuh 'ouse?
Zuh grey'ounds rock zuh 'ouse
And when zuh grey'ounds rock zuh 'ouse
Zey rock eet all zuh way down."

Another favorite:

"One! We ar' zuh grey'ounds!
Two! A leetle beet loudahr!
Sree! Ay steel can't 'ear yoo!
Foh! Moh! Moh! Moh!"

As an activity I had them choose a mascot and school colors for their own high school, Lycée Camille Claudel. The mascot had to share an attribute with the students. I told them we were the greyhounds because greyhounds are fast and always win the race, just like East High School athletes. I used escargots as an example, since it's a specialty of the region. But it's not a particularly fierce or fast animal, so they probably wouldn't want to choose it, I said.

"Les gazelles!" someone suggested. That was eventually shot down because they didn't think their classmates were elegant enough to qualify. "Les grenouilles (frogs)!" said another. Not too much enthusiasm for that one either.

"Les vaches!" said a girl who had been really into the cheers. "Cows?" I asked. "Why would you want to be the cows?" "Becooz, euh, zuh coos, zey talk a lot. And zuh studahnts, zey talk mooch az well. So we are zuh coos." Everyone nodded in agreement. And your colors? I asked. Blue and violet was the consensus. Why? "Becooz zey ah' well wiz each ozzer."

I asked the students to use their 10-day Toussaint vacation to create their own cheer for Camille Claudel. I can't wait to see what zey cohm oop wiz.