Mercredi: 4 fevrier
As of 3h00 I have officially been away from home for one week. I miss the other AFS students that I met, because I probably will never see most of them again. Actually that’s not true, because there’s the going away orientation. So, I will see the,. Okay, I don’t feel so bad anymore.
Thomas et moi bonded over internet flash games (Flash, as in the animation program). As it turns out though, I’m pretty good as Captain Falcon. And not too shabby with MetaKnight. Like two people are going to get those sentences, oh well. That was to David anyway (Gandleforf is on the out, switch him with Steve-O and I’ll be golden). I like that table idea for the schedule, it simplifies things and makes it look like I wrote more.
Time Class Comments
8h30 - 10h30 Devoir This is a time slot reserved for doing homework, but Thomas had another test so he went to school at 8h30, and I didn’t go until later. Actually this is a story in and of itself, so we’ll save that for later.
10h30 - 11h30 Histoire - Geo Geo is for géographie. Groups presented their projects today. The first group’s presentation was about the US, and I got to participate…by explaining to the class what a “doggy bag” was (yeah, whatever you don‘t eat in a restaurant in France gets thrown away, it‘s not tomorrow’s lunch), explaining the productivity of American agriculture, and providing a counterexample of the US’s weight problem.
11h30 - 13h30 Français Woo, talk about a class losing it’s novelty. Actually, that is what I’ll do. This class has totally lost all novelty and coolness because it was about theatre. Apparently none of the students like it. In fact, there was a class groan when the homework was assigned. I doodled. I could only copy a little of what was written and what was written was only a little of what was said. The reason for not being able to copy down what was written: the teacher’s illegible handwriting. Apparently everyone in France insists on writing in a stylized cursive, fitting for the language, but incredibly hard to read. Even for the French, considering a few students had to ask the teacher what she had written. Everyone except for Gregoire though, he sits next to me in Math and I can actually read his writing so he lets me copy his notes, also he lived in the US for a few years I guess, and his English is pretty good so he helps me understand things too.
Oh yeah, every Wednesday is a half day. It’s a double bonus that it started late for me too. Oh man, I have to tell that story now, don’t I? I’m proud, because I can tell this story in French. Well, kind of. It’s fractured broken French, but I ended up telling it enough times and got corrected enough times where I have it pretty good I think. Anyways, I’m going to tell it in english now. So, Phillippe drove Thomas to school in the morning, then Magdeleine drove Quentin et moi to our respective schools. I get to the school at about 9h30 but my first class doesn’t start until 10h30. So I’m like, “poop. What am I going to do now?” So I went to the library, but it was locked and closed and lights off, so I decided to just wait in the room. However the room is also locked and closed and lights off. So I whipped out my schedule (which is the same as Thomas’) and decided that I couldn’t just sit in the halls, so I’ll go find Thomas. Problem: My first class and the secteur I was in was D1. Thomas was in A5. I have never been in C secteur, let alone B ou A. So, being the responsible-minded individual I am, I decided to roam the halls in the area I could navigate about and ask someone for help instead of inevitably getting lost on one the four floors (I think it may be higher in some places. And I think the whole thing is shaped in a big square U). Eventually I found a group of teachers and I tried my best to ask simply where the class I was looking for was. Then they started with all sorts of fun questions: Why? Are you a student here? Yes, we figured you’re from the States. Who are you with? Why aren’t you in class? Tu aime l’omelette du frommage? Et cetera. They took my to the head principal guy, who called a guy, who took my to another guy, and that last guy was a guy that I knew from before. I think he’s the French equivalent to the Vice Principal or the Dean of Students. He’s like: Are you lost? Where are you going? I’ll help you find where you’re going. Let’s go to the library. And once we get to the library, he discovers with unsettling surprised that it is in fact locked and closed and lights off. He then recalls that, Oh yeah: the library is closed on Wednesday. Every Wednesday. And today is Wednesday. So he takes me to my class, and I wait there for the remaining half of my hour, somewhat relieved I didn’t have to spend the whole thing bored and sitting. Of course, I was also worried that I may have gotten Thomas in trouble, but I don’t think I did…
Well, Wednesday isn’t actually over yet, and I have to do my homework. For English, the class had to summarize Obama’s inauguration speech in English. Since that would be too easy for me, the teacher decided she’d help me learn my French by making summarize it in French. I haven’t done this yet. It’s due tomorrow (but was assigned yesterday). So I have to go do that now. Then I’ll probably eat around 21h00 - 22h00 again, which I don’t really mind considering I won’t be hungry until then. Realistically, I won’t even be hungry then, but at least it’s enough time to ward off an exploding stomach.
Yay, Thomas helped me! But he did too much, and I feel that I didn’t gain anything out of that experience. Well, maybe I gained not having to worry about that assignment, but now I’m worrying that the teacher will think my French is better than it really is.
For dinner I had pâté du lapin. Which is pretty much blended rabbit. Rabbit sausage stuff. I kept thinking about Hazel and Fiver, Thumper, Bugs and Babs, thinking about how wrong it was for me to feasting on such a substance that was once a hoppy little bunny. The absolute worst part is that it tasted good…
I suppose sitting here, waiting for the bathroom to open so I can go to bed provides a good opportunity for me to write. Oh, I went to the supermarché avec Phillippe aujourd-hui. Actually, I come to find out, it was a hypermarché, because it’s bigger than a certain number of square meters. Man, I need to get a better memory.
I’ve packed my love in special wrappings of hugs and sent them out to all of you! (It’s a metaphor, as in you’re not getting real mail).
Taylor en France
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