La Toussaint

Citation.

 
   Halloween is synonymous with October 31st in most Americans' minds; to the French la Toussaint means November 1st. To the kids I'm teaching it means today is the Friday before break, so it's tough to pay attention. Unless there is candy involved. They're learning about Halloween, so as long as they play along and trick or treat they get some well traveled Reese's. Peanut butter is a strange food to French people; my students didn't complain, though.

     Toussaint is a contraction of the words tous and saint, which means "all saints." To start off my lessons this week I asked the kids why France celebrates Toussaint. Many of them had no idea. Since I grew up in southwest Louisiana, I'm quite familiar with All Saint's Day. It's a holy day of obligation in the Catholic church, and since France was once predominately Catholic the holiday is still a national day off.

     More traditional French families will gather at their family's cemetery to honor their ancestors and place chrysanthemums on their graves. Chrysanthemums signify death and remembrance in France. Usually when you go to a French person's home you bring flowers as a gift. You never bring wine, unless asked, because if you're going for dinner your host probably paired a special wine with the particular dishes being served. You should also avoid chrysanthemums it would seem.

Chrysanthemums, in case you weren't sure what they look like.  Don't buy these as a gift in France.

     In Louisiana's Cajun country many families go to cemeteries for All Saint's Day. Families leave flowers, but they will also repaint and clean the graves. In other countries, like Mexico, All Soul's Day is when you would visit the family cemetery. Since November 2nd isn't a national holiday in France, the French go with the 1st.

     La Toussaint is the first major break in the school calendar. The kiddos started school on September 4, and they now have a two week break starting today. We start school again on Monday, November 12. It's a long break! So I've worked for two weeks, and now I have two weeks off. Not a bad life.

     I'm headed to London tonight to stay with a Davidson friend who is teaching at an American school there. A day trip to bath and a Ravens v. Patriots pub session are in order this weekend. More on the rest of my break later, but until then happy Friday!

Emile Friant, La Toussaint, 1888, oil on canvas. A beautiful depiction of a family headed to the cemetery. Citation. 

Stravinsky et la danse...a little culture.

Poster from the original Stravinsky et la danse performance. Citation. 

     Last night, Elizabeth and I had our first Toulouse opera/ballet/orchestra experience. All at the same time. We watched Stravinsky et la danse on opening night, which was made more special because Elizabeth actually knew one of the dancers. Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) was an extremely influential Russian composer, and he also worked in both America and France, in the early twentieth century. His works transitioned from super modern to neoclassical, and the ballet last night was a combination of both.

     Stravinsky et la danse was performed by the various musical and artistic groups connected with the Toulouse Opera to inaugurate the new ballet director's first season. It was pretty amazing hearing the opera singers chime in with the bellowing violins and pianos of the symphony while the ballet dancers interpreted the sounds above on stage. Beautiful. Strange, but beautiful. If you're looking for those classical lovely lines you usually see in ballet, you won't find them here. Instead of pointed toes the dancers leap with flat feet, and pre-robot moves replace the gracefully uplifted arm.

     This particular interpretation of Stravinsky and the Ballet Ruses included three different ballet sets. First was Pulcinella, who is a member of the comedia dell'arte- the very specific masked character types of Italian Renaissance theatre (starting in the 16th century) that influenced the structure of theatrical performances throughout Europe for centuries- distinguished by his white outfit and long-nosed mask. His temperament is usually mean and crafty. In this version, the clown-like figure tricks his love by having various members of the community dress exactly like him. It's sad and heart-warming at the same time.

     Symphonie de Psaumes was written in 1930. Stravinsky started writing in Nice and finished in Switzerland. The piece is based on Oedipus Rex, and it was written for both a choir and orchestra. The dancers wore simple costumes and used various formation changes for emphasis. This piece was less light-hearted than the former piece; the dramatic choir voices made it sound like the start of a war scene in the Lord of the Rings. Sorry if that comparison offends anyone.

     Noces means "wedding," so this ballet is an interesting interpretation of a wedding ceremony. There are multiple brides and multiple grooms, and all of the brides are carried off stage in interesting body positions that make them look like confused mannequins. The ballet first premiered in 1923 in Paris.

     Stravinsky's musical groundbreaking followed on the heals of the Art Nouveau movement at the turn of the century in Paris. Art started going toward a less representative form of real life and leaning toward abstraction. The same happened with music and ballet.

     I first learned about Stravinsky my sophomore year in college during my two-year long Humanities program. His music is striking and strange, but I really enjoyed this performance. Toulouse has a really nice deal for anyone younger than 26, so the opera is very accessible. The cle jeune capitole and the chequier jeune allow you to access museums, the AirBus factory, cinemas, and the opera in Toulouse for 18 euros a year. The cle capitole is an additional 10 euros, but you get access to three performances in the Capitole whether they be ballet, orchestra, or theatre. If you're young and living in Toulouse, do like the brochure says and "free your couch." Buy the chequier. You won't regret it.

A view of the beautiful Theatre du Capitole from the inside. Elizabeth and I got last minute student tickets 15 minutes before the show for 10 euros. We were on the second row in the Orchestra section. Not too shabby. Citation.

   

Week 2...I'm actually teaching!

     It is the week of October 22nd. My contract with the French government began on October 1st. It only took 22 days for me to lead a class on my own. Success! What did we talk about? Halloween and the presidential elections! Both are pretty scary subjects in France in my book.

     Here's my lesson plan for the week:

- I start every class off with a volunteer. One person writes the day as we would in America. In France the date is written day/month/year, and it is said, "le 23 octobre." Another volunteer draws the weather, le meteo, and everyone says something they did the day before or over the weekend. It's a warm up to get everyone in English mode and allows them to use both present and past tenses within the first five minutes.

- Halloween- I wanted to incorporate an introduction and description element to my Halloween lesson plan. I also wanted to talk about Halloween with each class, and because the levels of English are quite varied I made the lesson general and fairly simple.

Citation.

     * First, I asked the class what holiday was fast approaching in both France and America. Halloween! La Toussaint- All Saint's Day- is the French holiday, which falls on November 1st. Traditionally people visit cemeteries to lay flowers on loved ones' graves, and they pray to their patron saint. It's a Catholic tradition that is also celebrated in Mexico and other Latino countries, Dia de las Muertas. Louisianians paint tombs, clean cemeteries, and lay flowers to pay their respects as well. 

     * Next I described the history of trick or treating in America. Do you know why we wear funny costumes and ask people we don't know for candy? Halloween is actually a tradition brought to us from Ireland with the wave of Irish immigration in the 1840s. It was a pagan holiday celebrated around harvest time and the changing of the seasons, and people believed that at this particular time of year spirits roamed the Earth. All Hallow's Eve, Hallow E'en/Hallow Evening, is that witching hour of midnight on October 31st when the dead rise and grim grimmy ghosts come out to socialize. The religious holiday eventually replaced the pagan ritual, but people continued to leave offerings of food and drink outside their doors to appease the spirits. Everyone caught on to this and many decided to disguise themselves in an attempt to get some free food. Trick or treat.

     * I had to teach the kids the trick or treat poem, but I taught the non-"I'll pull down your underwear version." It goes:

Trick or treat. Trick or treat. Give me something good to eat. Give me candy, give me cake, give me something good to take.

     * Once everyone had that down, I passed out slips of paper with traditional costume names- black cat, bat, witch, ghost, vampire, werewolf, mummy, etc. We played a little game where each student had to visit "my house," recite the poem above, and then describe their costume. If I guessed what they were then in theory they got a treat. I brought Reese's along from the States, but I decided not to give them out for fear of peanut allergies. 

     * Halloween was popular in France for about ten years in the 90s, but it's lost popularity. Most of the kids had never dressed up, but I asked them to think of a costume idea anyway. A blue chicken was the most interesting response I heard.  

-Presidential Elections- We had a little time at the end of my first class to discuss the elections. Everyone knew Obama's name, but Mitt Romney was a little harder to pull from them. The French, adults, are super interested in the elections. I've read fully translated transcripts of each debate in French the morning after all three. I have yet to meet anyone who isn't a fan of Obama. They also want to know who I'll be voting for, but that I'll never tell. 

     

     As a lagniappe, in browsing for lesson plan ideas I found this gem. Scared Canadians, grown men and teenage boys for the most part, caught on hidden camera. Click here immediately. I especially like 11, 13, 20, and 28 (date night gone wrong?). Made me laugh out loud in my apartment.

Mot du Jour...and the Saints Go Marching In Part 2

     I have many words of the day for today. Attraper means to catch. Lancer means to throw. "Tu cours trop vite" means you run to fast...for me to catch you and tear of your flag football flag belt.

     Joanna went to a French flag football practice last week and graciously invited me along for tonight's practice. I wore my New Orleans Saints football shirt just to look official. The moment I arrived someone took notice of the Saints emblem, a fleur de lys, and told me how much they like the saints. They liked the Cowboys better, though. Seriously, what is it with Texas. It's a great state, but I don't get the French-Texas connection. In any case, the Saints are still number one in my heart. Coach-less season aside. It was great to hear some American football banter, and everyone loved Drew Brees which is reason enough for me to like them already.

     My brother taught me how to play football, and my dad helped out too, so I felt comfortable just jumping right in. I thought it would be pretty low key, but these guys- and one other girl who was French but definitely showed us Americans up- mean business. We ran drills, then plays, then we scrimmaged. Luckily there is no tackling because I think some of them may have once played rugby. Huge. Scary. So not what I would expect from a French person. I'm still not the best at actually catching the ball, but the coach was confident that after a few more practices I would be ready for the Super Bowl.

     The team name is Ours Toulouse (oohrs), which means the Toulouse Bears. They practice on Mondays and Thursdays, so it looks like I've found myself a hobby and a team to belong to. After doing sports for so long it feels strange to not have that team atmosphere. One of the players heard I was once a cheerleader, and he put me in contact with Toulouse's own pom pom girl squad. Apparently they're pretty new, cheerleading only just caught on in France in the last ten years, so he thought I might enjoy coaching or even participating. Cheerleading year 9. Bring it on!

     I hope this week brings you a new hobby or new friends as it has for me. A plus...

When the Saints go marching in they have nothing Toulouse.

     There is inevitably a moment on every trip I take, it seems, when the world serendipitously has me cross paths with some shimmer of home. By home I mean Louisiana, but it's surprising how many times New Iberia has become the center of the world while I'm away.

     Sunday is market day in France. Most things are closed, but everyone makes their groceries for the week with fresh veggies, fruit, would you like you chicken with eyeballs and feathers intact or just a piece-type of meat, and gorgeous French bread. It's a great experience because locals have their favorite vendor, and the vendors throw air kisses toward old friends and call customers by name. The colors and smells are intoxicating as well.

A postcard of the original Marche des Carmes. From this site.

Veggie stall outside. There is both an indoor and outdoor component to the market today. Most Frenchies will tell you  that you should only buy veggies and fruit at a market; the supermarket stuff is pretty rough looking.

Cheese stall!

     I guess every good blogger needs some pictures of food eventually, but I couldn't bring myself to whip out a camera and take artsy photos of veggies. It's just way too touristy. Plus, I didn't have any form of camera that morning. 

    Oh that I had, though. My friend and fellow assistant, Joanna, and I went to an Anglican mass Sunday morning and made a few British and Scottish friends along the way. We also decided to check out the market. The second we surfaced from the metro the sweet sweet sounds of Louisiana wafted through the air. Jazz!! Jacques-Imo and When the Saints Go Marching In blasted out of a tuba painted like a lime green serpent, a big trombone, drums, and what I think was a clarinet. The American teacher from T.L. happened to be there swaying along as well. Spontaneous swing dancing started around the periphery that had formed near the band. Kiddos tried their best at dancing and giggled and smiled when once they failed and fell. 

     While I was standing there listening, singing, and dancing along, tears welled up in my eyes and that stinging sensation you feel when you fight back tears sat in my throat. It was a moment of lagniappe to the max. I didn't want to cry lest someone think it was because I didn't like the music. Or that I was some crazy American having a moment. 

     I have missed home more than usual since everything has gone so contrary to plan. However, my roots are so firmly grounded in my heritage and family in Louisiana that I almost have more room to grow because of them. Home is home, and it is always waiting. Even in the most unexpected places. The Carmes market in Toulouse on a random Sunday, for example.   

      It turns out the jazz group, Les Roger's, is headed to New Orleans sometime in February. If you're in the area, Sehrt family, you should definitely seek them out. Here's a description in French, and my translation below, if you're interested. 

"Les Roger's est une équipe de musiciens toulousains passionnés par les musiques de la Nouvelle-Orléans. Après plusieurs voyages en Louisiane et à New York, ils décident de créer cet ensemble afin de revenir aux racines du jazz. De Louis Armstrong et Sydney Bechet, jusqu'aux musiques du fameux "Mardi Gras" de la tradition des Black Indians, les Roger's jouent avec générosité et énergie ces standards connus ou inconnus du public. Musiques de fêtes mais aussi musiques de processions funéraires, leur répertoire ne manque pas de lyrisme porteur d'espoir.     

The Roger's is a group of Toulousan musicians who love New Orleans-style music. After numerous trips to Louisiana and New York, they decided to create this ensemble to return to those jazz roots. From Louis Armstrong to Sydney Bechet, to the famous Mardi Gras music tradition of the Black Indians (we say Mardi Gras Indians), les Roger's play known and unknown jazz classics with generosity (for free at Sunday markets for example) and energy for the public. From party music and jazz funeral music as well, their repertoire is both lyrical and full of hope."

     
     

College Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Day 1

     Yesterday, Friday, marked another first in my teaching career. Toulouse-Lautrec is in a neighborhood just north of Toulouse. It takes me about twenty minutes to get there by metro. The school is only about three years old, and it was beautifully designed.

     Henri Mari Raymond de Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa was a French painter famous for his cariacature-esque scenes depicting can-can dancers at the Moulin Rouge in Paris. He painted around the turn of the century in Paris' Montmartre neighborhood where bohemian France, absinthe, and frivolity combined to inspire many an artist and writer to produce groundbreaking works. Gertrude Stein, John Steinbeck, Ernest Hemingway, Picasso, Dali, and others all congregated around this little slice of Parisian life. His style is post-impressionistic mixed with art nouveau. Some examples:

T.L. painted numerous posters advertising bars, restaurants, clubs, and certain dancers like Jane Avril. He loved to hang out in the opera and the seedier burlesque clubs trying to capture peoples' movements and dress. This is on of my favorites. the image is from this site. 

T.L. painted this in 1890, and it shows a dancer at the Moulin Rouge amongst a more high-brow crowd. It is currently displayed in Philadelphia. This image is from wikipaintings.

     One of the first things I noticed upon arriving at this school was the emphasis on art inside. Each classroom has a number, but they are subtle. The real identifier for each classroom is the Toulouse-Lautrec painting posted next to the door. Numerous student paintings, projects, and collages also line the halls. 

     T.L is my main administrative school, which means that they've been dealing with my paperwork and making sure that I get paid. Everyone that I've met within the administration is very nice and they've helped me to adjust to my Friday schedule at this school just fine. The director told me an interesting tid bit about his job within the school system; administrators are in charge of the physical integrity of their schools after hours, so most schools have subsidized housing either on or near the campus for the director, the equivalent to a vice principal, secretary, and head chef. The secretary's main job after school hours is to make sure the campus is secure. How interesting. 

     I will work with four different teachers here. One is from America, one is a former Yugoslavian, and the others are French. I just observed on my first day, and did the same kind of question and answer introduction as I did in A.L. Most of the kids seemed genuinely interested in having me around. Some of the better questions of the day included: Do you know Michael Jordan? Have you been to Montana (I was surprised he even knew where that was)? Do you eat hamburgers every day? There was more talk of Texas as well. 

     Nothing went wrong yesterday! It was a first. Since things went pretty smoothly in both of my school this week, it looks like I will be given small groups of 5 to 8 students this coming week. I'm supposed to talk with them and work on conversation skills that pertain to the vocabulary they're learning in class. Since next week is the last before the big Toussaint break, I'll explain the holiday later, I figured it would be a good time to go over Halloween and, if we have time, the presidential election. If there any past middle school teachers in the crowd, I'm always open to suggestions and ideas. 

     Have a lovely fin de la semaine! 

P.S. There are also some Lagniappe Livin' readers from Poland and Belgium. Welcome, Bienvenu 

     

Who reads this blog?

     I was curious as to who was interested enough in my life to follow along with my adventures, besides my parents, and I was surprised by the answer.

     I have readers from the U.S., France, Great Britain, Germany, Austria, Russia, and South Korea (Lauren?!). Russia was totally unexpected, but so cool to see. I would just like to say thank you to everyone for keeping up with this roller coaster that has been teaching in France. I have lots more to say, so stay tuned...

La Fin de Semaine...Boston Getaway for Labor Day

     I didn't swoon for Boston immediately like I did for New York. I guess that's the way it goes; you either love New York City or you love Boston. You can't have both.

     After spending Labor Day weekend in Bean-town, which was my third trip, I beg to differ. It is possible to love the City and Boston, but you may need to pick a side when it comes to baseball. Sorry, I still side with the Yanks.

     Everyone always talks about the rich historical past still present in Boston as one of its most charming aspects. I agree of course. Who doesn't love a good battle ground, colonial cemetery, and tracing Paul Rever and William Dawes's Midnight Ride to save our burgeoning young country from the threat of Redcoats? History majors, like myself, live for Boston's historically preserved patriotic side.

     This history major discovered a completely different side of Boston. The Big Dig rerouted Boston's main highway- Interstate 93- underground into a tunnel. What was left above ground in 2007 when the project finally closed? A lovely park, an unobstructed view of the city from Boston Harbor, Saturday afternoon markets, and awesome food trucks. The Cookie Monstah is worth tracking down for their chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich. Ugh too good. Pants too tight.

     Boston protects and loves its history, but its also full of energy and new growth/construction. If you want to see the city's history, walk the Freedom Trail, go to Bunker Hill and visit the free museum across the street-you can walk to the top for free as well, and visit the USS Constitution. Just not on Labor Day weekend because historical sights are super crowded.

Here are a few highlights from the weekend:

      Tapas! It happened to be the last night of Boston's Restaurant Week when I arrived, so of course we had to take advantage of the awesome meal deals. Toro is in Boston's South End neighborhood, and it's a happening spot. Try the bacon wrapped dates, charcuterie, and whatever sounds good because it all is. Usually seating is on a first come first serve basis, but for restaurant week we were able to make a reservation. It's worth a wait, in my opinion, and it happens to be right next door to my next highlight point...

      Mike's Diner- If you're in the South End, which you should visit to see blocks and blocks of beautiful old brown stones and quaint neighborhood parks, you need to go to Mike's. There's even a dog park if you need a puppy to make you happy. If you're not in the South End, find a way to get there. This diner was featured one of my favorite shows, Diners Drive-Ins and Dives. The portions are more than generous, and the food is just plain good. Some of the dishes have medical themes since the Boston Medical Center is so close. A breakfast plate with "heart attack" in the title seems like a good idea with so many med students in your near vicinity, right? Get there early, though, because the lines get long.

      Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum- Did we just visit Venice? You may think so after a visit to this woman's private collection of Renaissance art, Asian/Middle Eastern art, and scattering of mid-twentieth century American art within a palatial rendition of a fifteenth century Venetian palace and a courtyard worthy of mention among the best European cloisters. Each painting in the collection hangs exactly where the heiress hung them. There were even a number of thefts in the museum, and those paintings that were not recovered are easy to spot due to the blank wall space they left behind. We didn't got to the tea room, but the administrative offices, reading library, and restaurant look like a great place to spend a rainy afternoon.

     Wineaux weekend!!- Mike knows me well, so he booked a wine tour with City Wine Tours. The tour itself was pretty good, but the highlight was walking around the Italian North End and discovering the Wine Bottega. The Bottega carries wines from smaller vineyards around the world, and the descriptions are hilarious. Small hand-written cards sit under the wine bottles with headings like: You know you want me! and Saucy! You can sign up for their wine club, and they will deliver a basket to your door each month or you can pick it up in store. There are also free tastings on Fridays. Yes please.

      In the North End we also got to see lots of older Italian men playing bacci ball. There was Italian flying through the air along with bacci balls. Fists were shaken. Smiles and grumpy looks were exchanged. I loved watching and plan to return just to listen one day.

     Neptune- This restaurant was our last stop on our North End tour. Our wine tour ended around 5:30, and we headed straight to Neptune to reserve a spot thereafter. They don't take reservations until the day of, so get there early in the evening to leave your number. We got the call that our table was ready around 7:30. Within seconds of arriving we were seated at the bar of this small, cozy, swanky, and strikingly French oyster restaurant. I've never been a huge fan of oysters, but I love to watch the pros shuck 'em. I had an amazing dinner of scallops, brussel sprouts, and bacon. This place is awesome and worthy of the name- Neptune/Poseidon was the god of the seas, and thus seafood, afterall!

I now refer you back to my Provincetown post because we started off our weekend there.

This gem is actually from Provincetown, but it's too good to omit.

Boston Commons' famous pond and swan boats.

Some random guy who posed for a picture. He's pretty cute, though, so I kept him around. This is on the way to the Bunker Hill monument.

     I'm actually headed back to Boston in a week, I promised a certain someone a visit, so I should have more to share then. Until then, have a lovely weekend! Do something fun! 

     

College Alphonse de Lamartine (hereafter known as A.L.) Day 2

     Was anyone wondering if I would throw my hands up and just say to Hades with France and this whirlwind adventure? Oh, maybe that was just me.

     Well, I'm giving it the old college try...the old post-college try and the old French college try as it were... putting on my big girl pants, strapping on my boots, tying my scarf and heading into the dark vast jungle that is France's public education system.

     This morning I arrived promptly at 8:00. For a class that started at 9. Just to be sure. Did something go awry? Is the pope Catholic?

     One of the English teachers stopped in the teacher's lounge to make a copy, and he found me reading quietly in the corner. "Oh, we have a problem. Hasn't anyone told you?" To which I answered, "Problems are just an everyday occurrence for me, so you'll have to specify."Not really, but that's what I was thinking.

     This was the least problematic problem yet. There was a slight schedule change two weeks ago, so two of the classes he had scheduled me for were at slightly different times. Whew. No big deal.

     This afternoon I attended a class from 10-11 with the English teacher was there to facilitate questions while I introduced myself. We did the same routine from 3-4. Some of my favorite questions include:

-Are you from Texas and do you have a cow?

-Do you have guns (except he said huns, to which I said "huh?")? Of course. 7. Do I shoot them? Yes. I've been practicing for years. Big eyes stared back at me. I think I got their attention with that one. Don't mess with Texas.

-Do alligators eat chocolate? Interesting question. I'll have to experiment the next time I'm home with our pond pet. He does like marshmellows. They also insisted that I name the Gulotta family alligator, and I suppose we should because right now he's affectionately called The Alligator. It's hard to feel too warm and fuzzy about something with that many teeth.

     I know I've only been in the French college setting for a total of three hours in the past two days, but I think it's safe to say that middle schoolers are just angsty and rowdy here as they are in the U.S. French children must grow out of their cadre, or frame, pretty early on. On the whole they're good kids who just have too many hormones and sugar rushing though their veins to sit still for too long.

     The teachers are great, and they've been my saving grace at these schools. The woman I worked with this afternoon has offered to kind of take me under her wing, introduce me to her family, correct my French, and she even invited me to dinner tonight. Things are looking up, so I'm going to give this job my best and see what happens.

     Bon mardi!

   

 

College Alphonse de Lamartine...Teaching Day 1

     Alphonse de Lamartine (1790-1869) was a writer, poet, and politician who helped to define the makeup of France's Second Republic, and he was given the privilege of officially announcing the Republic's reign on the Hotel de Ville's balcony in Paris. In other words, he was super important to the development of modern day France's system of government. Today's government is the Fifth Republic.

     Since I started working at College de Lamartine today, something had to go wrong. It just seems like that's the way things are lately. I arrived about thirty minutes early just to make sure I knew where to go and who to meet. While waiting in the teacher's lounge, another teacher handed me the morning paper and told me to read the front page. She said it would explain why today would be such a tough day in the school.

     Late at night this past Saturday evening two young boys, ages 10 and 14, were riding their bikes in a Toulouse neighborhood. The 14 year old was killed within minutes after colliding with a car, and the 10 year old is still in critical condition. The older of the two was once a student at College de Lamartine, and he was a close friend to many in the school.

     Needless to say, today was a rough first day. I only had one class this morning from 11 to 12, but I can already tell it's going to be a tough few months. Four kids in the front of class were reading through the morning news, obvious friends of the deceased, and my numerous attempts at separating them and/or engaging them in other ways only made them angry. Questions like: why are we here? who are you? and do you know what happened? came from the front row with fury.

     As a 22 year old teacher, I already have less authority than most of my colleagues. Plus, I'm not French and I don't know much slang. I was an intruder this morning. I couldn't possibly understand.

     Loosing someone so young and so unexpectedly is tragic and heartbreaking. I was surprised to learn that classes were still planned to go on as usual, honestly. I started teaching a classroom full of kids who's minds were anywhere but with me and the lesson this morning, and to make matters worse I was completely unprepared. Fifty minutes seemed like an eternity.

     The teacher I was working with today asked me to come prepared with a personal introduction, and she would leave time open for questions afterward. Instead, I was given a classroom of my own and half of the English teacher's class and asked to work on introductions.

     The levels of English are varying, but most of them at least know the alphabet and numbers. Some can say their name, where they're from, and describe a few likes and dislikes, while others had no idea what I was talking about.

     I have three more classes at the same school tomorrow, but with different kids. I hope things go better tomorrow, but I have my doubts. I still have yet to hear about my schedule from another school. The saga continues...

     On a lighter note I'm headed to Paris tomorrow night to see my Aunt Rez and Uncle Joe, and I'll be there until Thursday morning. Aunt Rez and Uncle Joe made it to the other side of the pond for a visit to Normandy and the City of Lights. Paris is always a good idea, and it's even better when you can share it with family.

Le mot du jour

Because it's Monday and mot means word, it's time for another word of the day. 

Le crapaud /krapo/ means toad. In a similar vein, une grenouille, or ououaron in Cadien, is a frog. I'm not too sure why toad is a masculine noun and frog is a feminine noun, but sometimes you just have to learn the words and not question the French language's logic. 

Happy Monday! 

What I've learned about French children thus far.

Image from the LA Times article, Tiger Moms vs. Bebe Moms.

     It's very hard for me to go through the summer without a summer reading list; I've had one since middle school, including freshman year of college, so now I make my own. This summer I finished the Hunger Games series, Life of Pi, Cutting for Stone, and Bringing Up Bebe. After graduation I wasn't looking for anything too academic, so the latter was my feeble attempt at studying French child rearing from an American perspective. Here's what I learned:

1. The French seem endlessly patient. They wait hours for their check after supper and even longer to see the president's house the few times a year the Palais Elysee is open. They study paintings, books, and movies with an academic eye. The same goes with raising children, apparently. Parents pause for a minute or two when a child cries to make sure that their intervention is necessary. The pause helps parents get to know a child's rhythms and allows children time to self-soothe. 

2. Meals are served at 8 am, noon, and 8 pm. There is no snacking in between for adults, but children may have a little gouter, or taste of something, around 4 pm. This explains why Frenchies are so skinny. More on that later.

3. Speaking of meals, children have to at least try a bite of everything placed in front of them. My host in Tours applied the same rule on my meal time. Varying tastes, textures, and smells are presented to children early on and reintroduced multiple times so children develop varied palates. Children's menus are few and far between. They eat what you eat.

4. I learned helpful little phrases like, sois sage, or "be wise," in this book. Tu n'as pas le droit de faire ca. You don't have the right to do that- hit someone or talk back to an adult for instance. Hopefully they come in handy tomorrow when I have my first class. 

5. At home, children live within a strict framework of parental authority, but within that framework kids have a lot of freedom. A child may have to be in their room at 8 pm for bed, but once they're in their room they are at liberty to do what they like. This idea of le cadre, or the frame, is an old one. Next on my reading list is Emile ou de l'education, published by philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau in 1762, because this work is still the basis for France's ideas about children and education.

6. Public education is meant to mold children into good French citizens who are aware of their own humanity and that of others. It is also the unspoken duty of French parents to teach their children patience and empathy so they too can be productive members of French society in due time. Coloring outside of the lines isn't an expression of individualism. It is incorrect. 2+2=5 won't be heralded as a good try in a French classroom. That answer will be scolded and corrected. 

All of this does not go to say that French parents and teachers expect children to be completely submissive and void of personality. The idea is that children can live within strict limits that are explained to them and regularly enforced because they learn to relay on themselves as individuals, and within their family's framework they can grow into self-aware Frenchies. 

Interesting things I've observed on the streets of France:

-Papa is almost always the one pushing the stroller and holding his child's hand in the museum. Maman isn't far away enjoying time to herself. Hovering is the last thing on her mind.

-Parents speak to their children like they would to another adult. Baby voices aren't used past the newborn stage.

-A little boy fell while walking on a small ledge. His dad explained that if you don't watch where you're going that's what happens. He cried for a minute. Everyone moved on. 

-French children are not perfect, but man are their accents are adorable. 

-I've overheard middle schoolers refer to school as prison multiple times. Yikes. I hope they don't feel like that in my class. 

I wanted to write this post before I actually start teaching, which will be tomorrow. These are things that I've read and observed so far, but I'm about to have a much more intimate introduction to French children. More to follow on that as well. Happy Sunday! 

My favorite day of the year.

     Today is my favorite day of the year. This special day doesn't always fall on the same date, but it's always in mid-October and it's always tasty.

     It's the Gumbo Cookoff! The Cookoff takes place in downtown New Iberia, and since I was a child it's grown into a huge event that spills from Bouligny Plaza into Main Street and beyond. The Gumbo Cookoff is such a fun event that really brings New Iberia together, and I love it so much that I've introduced college friends and family to the concept.

     The mood is always festive. The temperature is usually hot, and the gumbo is even hotter. More than 85 "teams," ranging from restaurants to churches, school groups, and even gastronomically inclined families, compete for the revered title of finalist and/or champion.

     This blog's namesake, lagniappe, is a word, but it was also an amazing restaurant in downtown New Iberia. I still hold true to my belief that Ms. Elaine's chicken and sausage gumbo is the best in the world. Everyone else felt the same, I guess, because she has always been a judge at the Cookoff.

     For those of you who don't hail from southwest Louisiana, gumbo is a roux- mixture of flour and oil that must be diligently stirred until it turns a dark golden brown color- based concoction. Once you make your roux you can add in the holy trinity- celery, onions, and bell peppers- and your choice of meat. Pull out a bowl. Boil some rice. Top with gumbo. Mmm. My favorite food.

     Traditional gumbos are either chicken and sausage (andouille) or seafood. At the gumbo cookoff you may find alligator gumbo, turduckin, fried chicken, shrimp and okra, rabbit, venison, and others I've probably never heard or thought of. Each booth has take away cups so you can try multiple variations on this Louisiana favorite. Bring a bag. Your eyes will definitely be bigger than your stomach.

     If gumbo isn't your thing- to which I say, why in heaven's name not?- it is worth going to the Cookoff just to observe gumbo culture. Families meet and share their favorites. Cajun bands crank out chanky chanky, and those familiar tunes keep everyone's feet moving and hips swaying. I was lucky enough to share in the fun tonight when I Skyped home. Cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, my brother, and friends were all at my house cooling off and enjoying the day. I'm so happy I got to see them on my favorite day, and I'm even more happy that it may just be one of their favorite days too.

     The Gumbo Cookoff is, in my mind, a throwback to that old French mentality of joie de vivre. French blood must run deep because the Cajuns adopted their own expression laissez les bons temps rouler, let the good times roll, to add to that joy of living idea.

     Today in New Iberia I'm sure the good times were rolling as everyone took time to celebrate food, family, and the Cajun lifestyle. It's not just something that happens once a year back home. It happens all the time. The same thing happens in France.

     Sunday is a day of repose and family gatherings in France. Young families carry flowers away from the local market, probably on their way to grandmere's for Sunday brunch, and storefronts are closed. We went to the Saint Aubin market in Toulouse this morning. That same love of food and camaraderie that I see at New Iberia's Gumbo Cookoff was present at the market. So even though I couldn't have gumbo on my favorite day, I was able to go the market, eat an empanada, drink some wine, see the boys at La Fiancee, and watch Stade Toulousain- Toulouse's rugby team- trudge their way to victory in the company of friends. What more could a girl ask for?

Ferraris, casinos, and beautiful people...La Fin de Semaine a Monte Carlo, Monaco

I have another new installment to try out on everyone. I kind of started with the Provincetown post, but I'll try to make this a regular post to describe my present and past adventures.

When you talk about your weekend in France you say le weekend, but in Cajun we say la fin de semaine, "the end of the week." The Cajun saying is actually the way a French person would've asked about your weekend in the eighteenth century. I like the expression, so my series of weekend adventures will go under the title La Fin de Semaine. 

Let's start off in one of the richest countries in the world. Where is this enchanted land filled with Ferraris, casinos, and beautiful people? Here's a hint: America's princess once reigned supreme here, and 007 makes an appearance from time to time. 

That's right, Monaco. Even the name sounds rich. Even though Monaco is only about 500 acres in length, it packs an economic punch. The country is divided into 5 administrative districts, with Monte-Carlo being the crown jewel. 

I met my parents there for the weekend at the end of September since the Toulouse assistants were having a soiree d'acceuil- welcome party- so we could get to know each other. I've been lucky enough to find a couple of assistant friends who studied abroad in Toulouse. Thanks to Joanna and Elizabeth for showing me the way. 

Getting to Monaco is supposed to be difficult. So I've heard. I had a great experience getting there, however. 

I've become a fair weather talker on flights. You have to feel out the situation when you sit next to your neighbor and decided from there. Will this person next to me talk incessantly then want to stay in contact forever? Are they over plane talking? Could they be interesting and/or helpful?

The flight from Toulouse to Nice was delayed almost an hour, so I went for the casual chat with both of my seat mates. The woman on my left once lived in Nice, so she pointed out the highlights of the French Rivera as we coasted in over the Mediterranean. The man on my right was from New Caledonia, a French-speaking country near Australia, and he was rugby referee on his way to Corsica for the weekend with his family. Super interesting, and I got an invited to watch rugby in New Caledonia. If I ever I'm "in the neighborhood." Sure, I'll just pirogue on over.

From Nice I got a two-way ticket, aller-retour en francais, from the airport to Monte-Carlo. The bus actually takes you straight to the door of your hotel. So fancy! This time my seat mate chatted me up. He was a well-aged elderly gent around 80. Monsieur was a retired surgeon from Germany who wintered just outside of Monaco at the French beach just adjacent to Monte-Carlo. Also fancy. 

I knew Monaco was going to be beautiful, but it is shockingly so. I think all of the great modern architects in Europe were stolen by Monaco and forced to build beautiful edifices and immensely decadent interiors. For those history buffs out there, Monaco is a principality who's royal family has retained the same name- Grimaldi- since the 13th century. 

Francois Grimaldi took the Monaco fortress by storm one night in 1297, disguised as a monk, and claimed the land in the name of the Pope. In 1604 Lord Honore II ascended the throne, but he decided to rename himself Prince Honore II. Since then Monaco's ruler is given the title prince. During the French Revolution, 1789, Monaco was annexed by France, but in 1814 Napoleon restored Monaco to the Grimaldi's care. Prince Charles III started the tradition of gambling and tourism as Monaco's main source of income in 1863 by establishing hotels, restaurants, and a casino in the Monte-Carlo district. Today, Prince Albert II- Princess Grace Kelly's son- is the reigning monarch.  

As if over 700 years of Grimaldi reign isn't remarkable enough, our hotel was unbelievable- stunning views, an indoor/outdoor pool with a sandy bottom and cozy cabanas littered around the edge, multiple restaurants, more MacLarens, Bentlys, Audis, and Ferraris parked outside than I've ever seen or will see, and a little perch of a bench on our balcony so you can admire all of the above. I love a good perch. 

We witnessed a yacht wedding while eating cheese and drinking wine, overlooking the city's yacht bay, and watching the sun set behind the prince's palace in the background. We also saw a captain parallel park what I can only assume was an 80 ft. yacht. Pro. 

In front of the big Casino et Hotel Louis XIV.

View from our hotel. The sky really was that color.

Where we watched the wedding. 

Rock stars/Celebrities/My parents. Aren't they cute?

I wish I could say something that might make this country seem less like Disney World and more like a real place, but it's all true. Only one thing didn't go our way; we didn't get to throw our two cents into the beautiful black hole that is the Monte Carlo Casino. The night we had planned on putting on the ritz, the Casino was overrun with peacocks. Not really. The sparkling jewels, 6 inch heels, polished cars, and tailored tuxes had the same effect, though. I guess we'll just have to go back!  

P.S. Unless I've noted otherwise, the photos are all mine. Please cite them before reusing. Thanks!

Are you actually teaching English? What happened with that?

The title of this post is a question I feel many of you may have after the whole Graulhet incident.

A note on France's education system: College, I don't have accents but there is one on the first e, is what we would call a middle school or junior high. College is pronounced coh-ledge in French.

That being said, after a rough start in Graulhet I am now teaching in three colleges in Toulouse proper. So. Much. Better. I can walk to one, and the other two are accessible by metro. I still haven't taught anyone English. I did teach someone French in Graulhet, though. France moves slowly, but I think I may teach someone something yet. 

By Monday of next week I should have a class of my own. I will take small groups of students aside during their usual English period for conversation, games, and cultural lessons. My job is to act as an assistant to the English teachers in each college. 

I found this super helpful chart on Wikipedia. Clink on the picture to enlarge. It's an outline of the French public school system's grade ranges, grades are called niveau here, and the age groups are included in the left-hand column.  

The green section is my domain. Originally I was working in the ecole elementaire, which is in the primary education sector. Now I'm a secondary teacher. I'll let you know if middle schoolers are just as angsty and self-conscious as they seem to be in the U.S. I would assume it's just a rough age everywhere. The thought of an awkward French person at any age is hard to wrap my mind around, though.

The first big difference I've noticed between schools in France and those in the States is the lack of distraction. There are no posters yelling, "You're a star!", in bright neon bubble letters. The halls have coat racks, and that's the only decoration. Classrooms have the good old black board with chalk, some have projectors, maps, and if the kids are really young you may have the alphabet taped above the board. Students sit in rows looking straight ahead, and if the kids get too rowdy sometimes a stern look and big eyes are enough to quiet them. 

Another difference I've noticed as far as the administration goes: in primary school there is a directeur/directrice who acts as the school's head administrator and teaches on the side. In college the directeur does not teach, but today when I visited one of the schools he gave one student a bandage for her foot. He explained to me that he has a lot of interaction with the students, and he is obliged to move around France to new schools every five-ish years. 

The constant movement seems to go for teachers as well. Younger teachers are usually sent to the Parisian banlieux, which are notoriously dangerous. The closest thing in America would be an inner-ctiy school setting.  Once you have a few years under your belt then you can move to another region. 

The last big difference is the food. I would say the majority of kids eat in the school cafeteria. The meals are gourmet. I kid you not. Lunch lasts for two hours, and everyone stays inside to eat for almost that entire period. The lunch period is seen as just another part of the kids' education; it's a time to learn good manners, conversation, and to taste the flavors of France. For teachers it's a time to relax with colleagues and drink some coffee. 

Once I start working for real I can describe my schools- College Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, College Nicolas Vauquelin, and College Alphonse de Lamartine- in more detail. Until then, bonne continuation. 

The most fabulous city in America...in more ways than one.

Provincetown, MA may be one of my favorite new places. It is at the very tip of Cape Cod, which is about 7 hours from Boston by train. By speed boat, however, the trip is only 2 hours. 

Mike and fled Boston on September 1st when students return en masse for the new school year. The sky was clear, the weather was warm, and everyone in Provincetown was smiling. 

Provincetown has been home to one of America's largest concentrations of homosexuals since the turn of the century, the last century that is. It's rural character, at the time, appealed to artists and writers, and it continues to do so today with over 80 art galleries serving a population of just over 3,000. The gay community has been firmly rooted in P-town's tourism industry since the 1970's. 

Why was everyone smiling when we stepped off the boat and breathed in that salty sea air? They felt safe. Accepted. It doesn't matter where you're from, who you're with, or what you believe. To truly enjoy Provincetown you have to check that personal baggage at the door and enjoy the moment. 

The architecture is what I imagined in a New England seaside village. The slatted cottage-style houses are dressed in hues of gray-blue to match the Atlantic, and flower gardens, high-end boutiques, and stylish restaurants abound. I even found a painter who received a Masters in Journalism from LSU. Geaux Tigers! 

We started the day off with a stroll down Commercial Street. It's basically Main Street. We got some breakfast, bought some memento paintings from the LSU grad, walked to the far end of the city, stopped to enjoy the sea, and did some more walking. 

You could really just spend the whole day eating, drinking, and walking it off. Of course we did all three, and we even found a margarita. 

So here was our day in moveable feasts:

Joe's Coffee and Cafe- A necessary stop on Commercial St. There was a line out the door. Worth the wait? If you need coffee hells yes. 

Bubala's by the Bay- Lunch! The margarita was pretty tasty here. I went for strawberry to mix things up. Mike insisted that I try steamers/clams. Once was enough. Other than my picky seafood palate the food was great, and you can sit outside and people/dog watch. There are so many dogs.  

The Red Inn- Happy Hour on the deck admiring the ocean and watching the White Party parade go by. Since you can't wear white after Labor Day P-town makes sure you get that one last hurrah out of your summer whites. This was my favorite stop of the day!

Relish- A bakery and sandwich shop. It's a good walk from the center of town, but their motto, "Hey Cupcake!" should be reason enough. Must try- the vanilla cupcake with pistachio frosting.

Sal's Place- A cute Italian place nestled away with a great wine bar and scrumptious cheese tray. Everyone next to us at the bar got jealous of our cheese and ordered the same. 

I have more pictures to post, since it was a gorgeous day and I just couldn't stop the photo frenzy, but the internet is being testy. Needless to say, I highly recommend a day in Provincetown for wonderful food, views, and company.