I'm on Strike!

Today is a national day of strike where all the major labor unions decided to cooperate (which is rare it seems) allowing all the different sectors to strike on the same day. Goal: Tell Sarkozy that they can bring the country to its knees whenever they say the word?? In fact each sector has their own list of demands that they are sending to the government. The public schools demand that the government stop laying off teachers and support personnel. I'm actually a little unclear if as an American citizen I can officially go on strike in France but I didn't feel like working today and the few students who weren't on strike certainly didn't feel like working either. So there you have it. Now I'm going out to enjoy the sunshine.

This and that

It’s not exactly that nothing interesting has happened over the course of the last month and a half that I have not shared anymore French exploits. On the contrary, during my winter vacation, I spent a week with some of my dearest Missourians bumming around Northern France then another few days kicking around Marseille in the South. Back to school brought (and frankly is still bringing) some of my most intense boredom to date. The week school started up again, I came to school on Monday (not a long walk, I live in the school remember) and worked my one hour. I was finished for the day by 9 am. Then, the region was racked by a blizzard and ice storm (translation: about 1 inch of snow that got compacted into some icy spots on some of the roads.) In fact, this maybe more than anything else reminded me of my Missouri roots. Just like home, they cancelled school for the rest of the week. I didn’t get the chance to go to the supermarket, but I can only imagine (and hope against hope) that there were long lines of French men and women going into survival mode, fighting for the last jar of foie gras on the shelves.

What have I learned about myself so far during this little voyage? Probably the most important of all revelations is that when you put a dozen 15 year olders together in a room, even if they are probably really decent people in real life, they collectively take on the maturity level of 2nd graders. Personal interpretation of observation: just say no to ever teaching in high school. Consequently, my favorite part of my week is when I get to work with the teachers who are trying to improve their level of spoken English so as to be able to teach classes in their respective subjects to the students in English in years to come. Not only is it nice to talk to people who don’t act upon every impulse that pops into their brain, but I also can talk to them about things that are a little interesting to me. Example, I made the assertion the other day to a group of teachers that in English, we have a wealth of redundant words – often one word having a latin root and another with an anglo-saxon origin. I said this because sometimes French people sound a little bit overly formal when they speak English because they will logically know and choose the English word with a latin root which is almost always exactly the same as a French equivalent. The effect, though, makes them sound a little stiff, like a dry university professor who has been locked away in a tower of learning for too many years without listening to real people talk. Interestingly, though, it’s contagious. My speaking French here has started influencing my English in the same way. I catch myself always just a bit too late. Realizing that these days I am “recounting” stories instead of “telling” them and “regarding” instead of “watching/ looking at”. What!?