Computer Problems, or, La télé française

So...my computer stopped working. It was bound to happen sooner or later, since the poor thing is nearing five year old--gotta love planned obsolescence, right? *sarcasm*

 Without my little old HP Pavilion, I lost all motivation. Sad but true. And since it was during the winter holidays (February 21), I had ABSOLUTELY NO WAY of getting internet. Thus, poor little bloggy-blog suffered. At least I have my writing saved on a USB. Thank goodness for that!

To fill the void, I stared watching a lot of French TV. I have since discovered that the French have shamelessly imported all of the trashy and disgusting American reality TV programs I would never deign to watch at home. Plus, they've created their own: notably, Les Ch'tis à Las Vegas, which is basically the French Jersey Shore. A group of young people go on (often drunken) adventures in Las Vegas and experience various forms of culture shock--mostly not being able to understand English while being in the United States. I had a hard time watching a full episode, since the "stars" remind me a little too much of my students (especially the poor English skills).

"Ch'ti," for those unfamiliar, is the term for the inhabitants of the region Nord-Pas-de-Calais, near the Franco-Belgian border. The Ch'ti accent is very thick, as many Ch'ti traditionally spoke Picard, a romance language closely related to French, also spoken by the Belgian Walloon population.

Mostly I just watched the news and movies on TV, but I happened upon a show I really liked one night on France 2: Nicolas Le Floch, which is a period police drama based on novels by Jean-François Parot. The story revolves around the marquis and police commissioner Nicolas Le Floch, who works for Louis XV during the Ancien Regime (roughly 1761-1789) and swashbuckles his way into the hearts and minds of the people of Paris, including several lovely ladies. It's so fabulous--an excellent stand-in for Downton Abbey.

Nicolas Le Floch, as portrayed by Jérôme Robart

On the computer front: obviously, it is working again. I had to order a new battery and a new power adapter, which is all I can afford right now--no new computer (I wish!)--and were sent from Hong Kong in a relatively timely manner. Gotta love Amazon.com!

*Crossing fingers my computer problems are resolved*

I Can't Get No (Job) Satisfaction

To begin with, the title of this post is more an attempt at a playful bon mot  than how I actually feel about my job: from the Rolling Stones song of a similar name...

However, my job--though I'd like to retain it--is not exactly ideal. No one's is, which is a problem, but also a fact of life. I've discovered a number of things since the start of my teaching "career," and a few of them are starting to become a headache.

I'm trying to decide if I'm sick of teaching, or sick of being a teaching assistant. As a teaching assistant, my role is not taken all that seriously, by students or teachers. Then again, teaching is not taken all that seriously, either. 

Take the teacher's strike--not last week but the week before--I think it was January 31. No one told me about it before I got to school, but I ran into one of the Spanish teachers in the teacher's lounge, and she explained it to me. I think I got brownie points by being there, since the vice principle made rounds during the day to see who was actually doing their job...

Since the teachers didn't show up in protest, the students were a step ahead, willing to stay at home that day. I had two out of four, which is actually better odds than normal!! As far as I know, it was a national strike (here's some media coverage, in French) and the French do have a reputation for protest--it's like it's their national pastime!

What are they protesting, exactly? Well, higher wages for one (pretty standard) but the one that really gets me is this: the French government (and recently elected Socialist president François Hollande) wants to extend the school week from four days a week to--gasp--four and a half days a week! By the way, France is the only Western country to NOT have a five-day school week for children. (I heard this tidbit on the evening news the other night.) Currently, almost no one works on Wednesdays. A full-time teacher works 24 hours a week. I, part-time, work 12 hours a week. 

There is also the peripheral item on agenda of protection against firing of "unnecessary" teachers that has been a threat bandied about since Sarkozy's reign (circa 2007), but like I said, that's probably not a real threat. Personally, I do think it's criminal to fire someone without notice, but sometimes, some people (yes, even teachers!) don't deserve to keep their jobs. As for having to work more hours, I have this to say: suck it up, people. It's called work for a reason! 

In fact, I would like to be doing a hell of a lot more work than I am doing. I feel completely dejected, as my emails go unanswered, students do not show up to my lessons, and when they do, they sit passively, sleep in class, or otherwise act like a sack of bricks. (Thus leading my to believe that perhaps the sack of bricks has the edge on an IQ test...) 

I also have the problem of comparing everything to my previous experiences in Austria. That doesn't help matters, since I'm sure I complained just as much then. But, I'll say this: Austrian kids ARE better at English. A LOT BETTER! Maybe it's because the languages are similar? Because Austrians see a point in learning English? Because Austrians have fewer preconceived notions about Americans (or Brits)? Who knows? I've been told (by certain students embarrassed by their bad English) that the level of Spanish is much better in France than the level of English. 

What do I say to that? Whoopee.

I feel like I've complained an awful lot on this blog, for which I apologize (to my two regular viewers who have heard it all before on monster Skype sessions, I'm sure. :) ). Anyway, I will try my best to think more positively in the future. Just think: when I was 16, I wanted to move to France forever! I'll just have to remind myself of the reasons why, I guess, and hope they still ring true.

There was a point when I really liked teaching. When was that? Please remind me. I want to believe again.

Laughter is a Bitter Pill

Here's an unexpected cultural difference for you: laughter.

My students laugh at me all the time. They laugh when they're nervous, they laugh when I say something funny. They laugh when they don't know the answer, they laugh when I try to explain something in French.

Isn't it rather cruel, or is that just teenagers?

My American kiddos were always to petrified to say anything out of turn.

My Austrian kids were always so serious, except for the one jokester (der Spassvogel). There's one in every class.

Laughter makes me nervous. Laughter makes me sad.

I wish I could laugh back at my students, but someone has to be the professional in the room.

Aux Armes?

I did a lesson on American vs. French stereotypes before the holidays, and one of the things that constantly came up was:

AMERICANS LOVE GUNS AND ALL AMERICANS OWN AT LEAST ONE.

In the aftermath of yet another gun tragedy (this time in Newtown, CT), and a renewed interest in debating gun control back home, I decided, since the stereotype is becoming all too real and evermore difficult for me to defend as...well, a stereotype and NOT TRUE, that I would like to do a lesson on gun control with my students. 

It totally plays into the subjects they expect us to prepares students for, too: gun control could fit (with or without a little maneuvering) into "Myth and Hero," or "Spaces and Exchanges," or even "Places and Forms of Power." The topics are so vague, it's not much of a stretch at all.

It doesn't really matter if the kids like it or not, anyway, but I'm betting they will. It's a hot topic right now, and it would do them some good to catch up on current events. And it's definitely more interesting for me than listening to them recount their weekends, or tell me what they ate for Christmas dinner--the lessons of the past week--why prepare for an empty crowd, after all?

In my research, I've come up with some interesting things. At first, like most Americans, I was just horrified at the school shooting, and wanted to know what happened exactly. New gun regulations was one of the first things to come up, then comparison statistics of gun violence in other countries, including the firearms ban implemented in the UK after a similar school massacre occurred in Dunblane, Scotland. But you know what?  The United States has a hella bunch of guns out in circulation: 300 million at one count, which is enough for every man, woman and child in the country to have their very own. 

Later, I started reading reactions to the news, like the "I am Adam Lanza's Mother" article and other calls to arms (sorry) for better mental health resources in the United States such as "Can You Call a 9-year-old a Psychopath?" from the New York Times. Although reading about the woman with an uncontrollable, possibly autistic teenager, and a clearly psychotic nine-year-old shoved off to a case-study sleep-away camp were fascinating, I unfortunately found them way too tough for my students. There would be so much explaining to do on a cultural level, not to mention the length, the advanced vocabulary...it gives me a headache to think about, honestly.

But are those really side issues to the gun control debate, or do they reach the heart of the matter? What comes first, limiting gun use, or limiting people who feel the need to use guns to harm others?  What comes first, the psychopath or the NRA membership? Are video games to blame? There are no easy answers. And the questions lead to even more divisive topics.

Part-time opinion writer for the New York Times and French professor at Princeton Christy Wampole wrote a piece commenting about the fact that overwhelmingly the mass shooters of America are young, white men, and opined that they feel disenfranchised, like their lives are unimportant, maybe even meaningless. They have no place in society, because women (and minorities) are taking away the "hero" status of the young man. Whereas his grandfather brought home the bacon to the wifey after a glorious stint in Normandy or the Pacific, the contemporary American young man cannot even be guaranteed that he will have a higher salary than his wife. In effect, he has nothing. Sitting alone in his basement playing World of Warcraft he is even outsmarted by his computer, because his sparring partner in Chechnya recently found himself a girlfriend--one who won't talk back, or want to do something dumb like go to college. 

This premise, not of a need to redefine masculinity in our culture--which is what I was hoping for--but of blaming women and minorities for usurping power from white men, was even weirder and scarier to me than the idea of allowing teachers to carry concealed weapons in schools to protect students from future school shootings. Although sometimes in France it feels like the world has not changed since 1950, that's not a good feeling--unless benevolent sexism comes out in my favor. My guess is either Ms. Wampole has taken too literally her francophilia, or her Texas roots are showing (she mentions in the article she grew up near Fort Worth).

Thank goodness someone with more sense also wrote an opinion piece I found on Gawker: "The Unbearable Invisibility of White Masculinity," by David Leonard, I found much more to the point. In it, Mr. Leonard argues that portraying a mass killer as a victim just because he is or was white (he cites the Wampole article as well) is inexcusable, and a privilege that apparently comes with being white. One of the underlying reasons, he argues, that people are so shocked over the Newtown killings, and the movie theater shooting in Aurora, CO, over the summer, is partly due to the fact that they occurred in mostly white, suburban neighborhoods that are supposed to be safe--as opposed to the south side of Chicago, which is mostly black and obviously unsafe. People expect to be murdered out there.

Obviously, I'm just expressing my own opinions and frustrations now, since those pieces are way too tough for my students, too. I found a much simpler article from US News & World Report complete with gun pictures (I honestly had no idea what an AK-47 or an M16 looked like before I read the article); that should start them off--from there, I'll drop a few gun stats and ask some probing questions. That will fill an hour, and maybe even give the kids some food for thought.

Keeping it Vrai

I've been a little down on my experience in France in these last couple of posts, so I think switching gears to something more positive is in order.

Recently I've come to a conclusion: all young women in their prime should live, even if briefly, in the south of France. The French attitude toward women is a blend of benevolent sexism and objectification, with a smattering of misogyny. So...why am I then recommending an experience here? Have I lost my feminist bearings?

Let's think about it. If you are a cute girl, you can skip the line at the post office. You can talk your way out of your bar tab. You are more likely to get the last piece of cheesecake at the restaurant not because you ordered it first, but because the waiter likes you better...and then you're also more likely to get the waiter's card or telephone number at the end of your meal, but you shouldn't feel obligated to call unless you think he's cute, too...

The plain and harsh truth, ladies, is that after you hit the peak of your attractiveness (for most around age 25) you have only a few years before you start to look your age--if not older--and, as your grandmother warned you, things can go downhill really fast. Now that I'm 26, I guess the prospect has become more real to me, having transcended that "magical" chronological number.

The take-away message is, get in that flirting while you can. Bask in a couple of compliments, even if mislaid, because there will come a time when you will not get compliments anymore no matter how hard you try. Unless you are someone like Demi Moore or Nicole Kidman and can afford expensive anti-aging treatments, botox, a personal trainer, etc., you probably won't get wolf-whistled at by construction workers when you're 45.

If you live in Wisconsin, it is even less likely you will be complimented on your shapely legs by a man old enough to be your grandfather who sips his espresso at the table of an outdoor cafe, walking cane propped up against an adjacent chair, no matter your own age or personal attractiveness. A puritanical sense of decorum, lack of outdoor cafes, and a general disregard for the sex lives of people over 70 sees to it that such a situation just wouldn't arise, and if it did, you'd call the police.

In the south of France, however, you do not call the police. You have two options: 1) ignore Grandpa or sleazy construction worker, or 2) say "thank you" for the compliment and move on. Option #2 may get you more attention next time, so you're going to have to decide if it's worth it to you. Personally, like with the waiter, I would gauge the other party's attitude (and personal attractiveness). Flirting is supposed to be fun--something the French seem to have mastered--and if it's not, be brief without being rude. You don't want to have an angry stalker on your hands.

Another point: although the French are getting better about issues that affect women, such as rape and sexual harassment in the workplace, and are (as far as I can tell) better about such things than their neighbors in Italy, they are by no means as cognizant of such issues as people are in the United States. There is not much recourse for women who feel they have been harassed or discriminated against at work--and a woman earns 60 cents to every Euro a man makes.

That's called the plafond de verre, people, and it is one of the (many) reasons I do not recommend packing up and moving permanently to the south of France. For most, I'm sure a visit will suffice.

Let sleeping teenagers lie...

...in their beds while you wake up at six for class at eight.

This will be a fruitless action because no one else will be there at five to eight when you open the classroom door, and neither will they be there at five after eight, so you will have forty-five to kill waiting for the next class who may or may not show up as well. In which case, it's recommended to bring a good book, since you might be sitting alone in a room for the better part of a day. A really, thick, concussion-causing book like Anna Karenina in hardcover, or the Collected Works of Shakespeare will do the trick.

Don't throw your back out carrying it to and from school, now. You don't have a "real" social security number in France, so you'll be SOL if some sort of health problem should arise, not to mention sick days--HA! You think you get those?!

Not as a penniless teaching assistant you don't. Unless you come down with something like tuberculosis, in which case you'll get one sick day: the day they deport you for "medical reasons." The French government has a whole ministry devoted to weeding out people with faulty immigration statuses and infectious diseases.

Lucky you to be chosen, out of so many, to represent your country and culture for a school year in France!

Lessons Learned?

The kids have been showing up regularly the past two weeks -- wahoo! Though it is only Tuesday...I have faith they'll be good from now on. There have been stragglers and no-shows, but not entire groups like before: me sitting in an empty room wondering why I got out of bed that morning to come sit in an empty room for three hours. Progress!

At the middle school, I'm in the classroom with the teacher, so that is virtually no problem. I've had to prepare more for these lessons, simplifying mostly, and switching topics every ten minutes (as opposed to every fifteen) for the lower level of the students. Teaching, it occurs to me, is sort of like trying to hit the sweet spot between what the students actually know and the magical test-level knowledge they are expected to acquire. It's like one of those crazy Venn diagrams used by stock traders.

I haven't been preparing much at the high school, since I only see each group once every four weeks. In fact, I've only done two lessons so far: the Introduction and Stereotypes. Interspersed with those, I've done itty bitty grammar lessons, like the use of adverbs (always, often, sometimes, rarely, never) showing habitual action, and past tense (and goodness, they could use the practice). I generally ask them how their weekend was.

This is all A2 level, so nothing ridiculously hard. Unfortunately, I'm finding myself using A LOT more French in class here than I used German in class while I was in Austria. Technically, we're supposed to be doing immersion with them, but if I'm talking slowly (like a snail) and repeating myself three or four times, I'm sorry--switching over! It's not like I can get in trouble. I have the kids in small groups, so there's no teacher, and who's going to rat me out? The kids? HA! I can't get fired anyway, so it's a moot point. I can basically do whatever I like, and what I like is to help them. It's really only a word here or there that I translate, either from a word I've already said in English, or a word they're searching for. If they ask me and not their friend, all the better. Because you know they'll chatter away with the friend about something completely unrelated, but I'll steer the topic back.

The one thing that has made me reconsider using French in the classroom at all is the other day when we did stereotypes. It was a group I'd already had (stereotypes is my lesson #2 in the arsenal) and we were talking about baguettes versus "American" bread, i.e. sliced bread. I tried to explain it six differed ways, but they didn't get it. "What don't you get?" I asked.

"Slice. What is 'slice'?"

"Slice is tranche in English."

"What?"

"Tranche"

Ensue torrent of giggles. Apparently I pronounced it wrong.

May I, in my defense, state that I have a cold? Nevertheless, I think their punishment will be TOTAL immersion from now on.

Kids Today

My students have not been showing up to their scheduled meeting times.

Let me explain the system: I, unassuming language assistant, i.e. "the American" am expected to take a group of 5-10 students from various classes once per week per class to fill 10 hours of "English study." I have 10 different classes once a week. Basically, all I have to do is talk to the kids in English for an hour, they shuffle in, shuffle out and are somehow better prepared for their bac at the end of the year.

That is, if they bother to show up.

Since my hour with them is supposed to be an extra hour of English, in addition to the two that they get in regular English class (three total per week), I have not taught any English classes. I am not in the classroom with them, but in my own, separate classroom to meet with the small groups of students during gaps in their schedules, or what used to be their free time.

Some of them still think it is their free time.

I hope sincerely this will change by the end of the week. I was told it should not be a problem at all, but I am still having a hard time believing 16- to 18-year-olds will willingly wake up at 8AM to come and speak a language they're not very good at (and in every likely scenario despise) to a complete stranger who also happens to be a native speaker of that dreaded language, and is probably fat, boorish and inane like all of the stereotypes of her country suggest.

I hope this is not the case--that this is what French teenagers thing of me and my country. But, I can only guess what they think. Since so few of them have decided to put in the effort of even meeting me, what else can I think?

What's in a Name? Part II

The name a person goes by seems to be a perennial topic for me, and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it's an existential thing. Who are we? Who am I? Who are you? A lot of how we see ourselves resides in what we call ourselves.

Here in France, there is a different naming culture and naming tradition than in other parts of the world. In the 19th century, Napoleonic law dictated that children born in France could only be named from a list of 20 or so names he personally chose--most of them religious--and spelled "correctly" by a priest or other notary public. This had been common in Europe since the middle ages, but Napoleon was among the first European rulers to mandate the practice into law. To differentiate, people gave their children multiple first names. This is why the French are so keen on hyphenated names to this day. Claude-André, Anne-Mireille, and the classic Jean-Pierre, to name a few...

One thing I've noticed is that, since I have my list of students' names before I get to meet the actual students, there is a gender difference between the United States and France. There is also a heavy Italian and North African  influence in this area.

Here are some common boy's names I thought were girl's:

Andrea
Alexis
Camille
Jules-Antoine
Maxime
Morgan
Yanisse

And some common girl's names I thought were boy's:

Dorine
Laurence
Marion
Patrice
Sandy
Siwar
Valentine

I'll get the hang of it some day soon. Maybe by the end of the year.