The Number Game

Each year around this time I start praying to the scheduling gods that be.  However, over the last few years I am starting to lose my faith that there are any.  The reason I worry is that I am the "low man" on the proverbial totem pole.  My job gets shifted and I travel to more than one school per day.  Take, for instance, this school year.  Because of school schedules, I travel to three different buildings a day.  Two is nice.  Two gives you the chance to stop and get coffee on your way to next place.  I kind of like two, but three!  Three is hectic.  It makes life crazy.  There isn't time to feel like you are a part of a school community.  There are times when it seems you are an outsider and people don't even know your name.  It makes for lonely times in the teacher's lounge.

Oh, boo hoo!  I know.  I will say that I am happy to be employed and thankful for the great students that I have, but this time of year I am always looking for things to appease the scheduling gods in hopes that they shower me with eager little French students.  Now, where's that chocolate reindeer leftover from Christmas?  I think that would go nicely on the sacrificial altar...

Les escargots

J'ADORE les escargots.  Really, I mean that.   I not only love snails for the eating, but I love how cute they are.  I have a few adorable snail tchatzkies around my classroom and one that lives in our flower garden during the spring months.  However, today, I want to tell you how much I love eating them.  It has been a LONG time since I have enjoyed this delicacy that tends to gross people out.  Our local French restaurant closed down which saddened both myself and my family.  It also tells you something about the lack of options for dining out in this town.  Green Bay and I have a love-hate relationship.  Anyway, back to les escargots.  Most people ask me if the snails are slimy.  These poor souls, bless their hearts, are extremely misinformed about the utter deliciousness of this sluggy little creature in its adorable curly shell.

First of all, it is hard for me to really explain if the texture is slimy or not, because, you see, I am usually trying to contain the drool to my mouth as I raise the delicious little morsel to my lips.  I prefer my escargot wallowing in butter, garlic and a few tantalizing green herbs.  Having escargot served in their shells in quaint and part novelty, but I LOVE eating them out of these special little ceramic dishes that have deep little wells where they stay warm and adequately swimming in butter until I am ready to savor each heavenly bite. 

Now, I do tell people that if they don't like seafood, then chances are pretty good that they won't like escargots.  It's not that they are fishy, but they have that same texture--kind of like a properly cooked shrimp.  However, I NEVER deter people from trying something new.  I really do feel MOST food deserves some kind of chance, especially anything swimming in butter.

So, with that in mind, I am going to offer my students an opportunity to try les escargots.  Since we don't have a wonderful place to go and eat them, I will bring the escargots to them.  Of course, these are of the frozen variety, but they are already prepped and stuffed back in the shell for full novelty mode.  I will report back on the out come and describe as best as I can any contortions of disgust on their faces.

The Generation Gap

Well, it's here.  I am finally feeling the generation gap between my students and myself.  I was 24 when I started my first teaching job--a mere six years older than my seniors.  In most cases teachers are somewhere in the 22 year-old range.  I was older than most, but still the gap wasn't present.  Having been an RA in college, I had a way of getting along with the younger folk.  In fact, I had to remind myself that these were now students and there were certain boundaries that needed to maintained.  They must have felt the same level of comfort, because there were many students that spoke to me in a vernacular reserved for friends.  A gentle smile and quick reminder about appropriate language got them back on track.  Occasionally, I would find my clothing to be similar to another one of my students' because we were shopping at the same stores. 

Now, those days are gone.  At 33, my students tell me that I am right around their mother's age.  They tell me that I have the mom-cut.  My clothes look like "teacher" clothes.  I am now the matronly woman.  Their "French mom", if you will.  I'm not sporting polyester, elastic waisted pants.  Nor are my shoes orthopedic in nature.  They still tell me that they like something that I am wearing, but I have yet to have that awkward feeling for sporting that same sweater as one of my darling, little co-eds.  No, tragically, I am officially OLD.  I'm not quite sure when it happened.  Probably somewhere in the middle of obtaining a mortgage and having two children.  I am certain that the birthing of my children has affected my need/desire to, or even the understanding of, texting people.  Maybe I don't have enough people!  I don't hate technology.  I'm just not co-dependant of it.  And the gap widens...(along with my waistline).

Coo, coo!

Aujourd'hui j'ai eu un étudiant qui m'a rendu visite.  Il est à l'université à Madison.  C'était une bonne surprise!  Nous avons parlé en français.  Il est très doué.  Je suis très fière de lui.

Une autre chose...mes étudiants ADORENT l'émission d'Extra.  C'est une programme très drôle et un peu bête.  Les personnages sont ridicules, mais quand même, ils parlent en français.  Mes étudiants peuvent améliorer leur compréhension.

Today, it is snowing here...A LOT.  Well, maybe not a lot, but more than the weathermen have predicted.  My 20 minute drive will turn into a 40 minute hairpulling session.  There will be people going about 20 mph on the highway along with the freaks in their 4-wheel drives going about 80 mph.  Where is the happy medium people? 

A demain!

End of the Semester Blues

So, today begins the last full week of school before semester exams.  That means that my more than proficient students are going to be hounding me for study guides and the like.  The students who really need the advanced study time won't really care about any kind of guide, except for the TV variety.  I really hate semester exams.  I think that they should be optional for students with a grade of a B or higher.  They obviously knew the material the first time around, why am I testing them on it again.  Mais, c'est la vie dans le monde d'education.  I guess I better figure out what I want to test them on, so they know what to study.  Here's a hint: EVERYTHING!  That's why it is called a SEMESTER exam.  Breathe in....breathe out...breathe in...breathe out... 

Bienvenue

Bonjour tout le monde!  Maintenant, j'ai un blog.  Vous pouvez lire les choses interessantes de la vie francaise.