February 4, 2005

Well, got to speak to Granny and Grandpa last night (maternal grandparents—the one who sent me the package) and they were fine. We had a nice little conversation. Then I gave Dad a call at one of his many different telephone numbers (I swear I have nine numbers. I always try to guess the right one and I am always wrong). Anyway, I was wrong this time too. The guy at the other end tried to find Dad’s current number and asked who I was. I explained that I was the elder daughter and that I was calling from France, at which point the guy said, “Oh. Actually, his office is just across the hall. Why don’t I just go get him?” Yes, please do. So I had a nice conversation with my Dad. He just got back from Japan and was pretty tired still. We talked about cats and relatives (but not actually in that order) and I told him that one of my options for the future was getting a Masters in TESOL from Salisbury University. I bemoaned the fact that I would have to write an admissions essay, something that I had managed to avoid up to now. Dad suggested that I just print off my ‘blog and send it to them. Yeah, a sixty page admissions essay. Then again, the idea does have certain merits—my avoiding any actual work being the main one. But I think that this ‘blog would do more damage than good, especially when read in connection with an application for a TEACHING degree involving the ENGLISH LANGUAGE. (That language which I have managed to mangle countless times in said ‘blog.) But hell, I may send it to them anyway, just for shits and giggles.

Anyway, I was calling last night from the Butter girl’s room, so when folks asked questions about her I was unable to answer. As I said in my last ‘blog (or, as I think I said, being as how I am too lazy to scroll up and check) things are calmed down between us. This being her decision, not mine. I have been the same steady, slightly obnoxious, French mangeler. She is the one who has been all friendly. Anyway, I don’t know if it will last or not. Probably not. It does seem to help that we both have more work to do at the IUFM. It also makes us allies against a common enemy (though I’m slightly uncomfortable with that. Not that I think she’s a back stabber, but I know for sure that she will automatically look out for number one if worse comes to worse).

Anyway, the SUV photo contest is over. I don’t know who won, I will figure it out later. I gave my class and convinced the students that SUVs are evil (which they knew) and that a lot of Americans drive SUVs (which they knew) and that SUVs are ugly (which, again, they knew). So I was pretty much just a useless blathering fixture in the front of the classroom. It’s always nice to feel needed.

Oh! I forgot to write about the boring people! So, anyway, for the conversation hours I usually just speak with people about whatever (makes since, right? I mean, it’s a con-ver-sa-tion hour). These two girls always come together and it is always just them. Their English is not really good, but it is really no worse than some of the other students’. The main difference is that these girls don’t even attempt to speak. In the first five minutes with them I asked them about movies. They don’t really watch movies. Ok, what about books? Had they read Harry Potter? No. And they don’t really read much. Hmm, music. What type of music do they like? Well, they don’t really listen to music either. Art! This being France, the self-designated center of all things cultural, surely they have an opinion on art. Um, no. They don’t like art or museums. Fine. What about travel? Where have they gone? After all, things in Europe are pretty close together and travel can be very inexpensive. And of course, neither of them has traveled. In fact, neither of them has even been in an airplane. Fuck. At this point I am five minutes into the hour and ready to claw my eyes out in desperation. I tried to explain to them that conversation is a two-way process here, that this is not an hour of Deirdre monologue, but that had no effect. Nada. Rien. Fine. I have decided that next time I see them (next week. Yea.) I am going to make them play games. Conversation games. The lamer, the better. I’ll make ‘em talk.

Ok, so I am definitely NOT sending this ‘blog to Salisbury. After that last paragraph, they would be convinced beyond a doubt that I am unsuitable for teacher-hood. In fact, they would probably put me on the teacher blacklist, along with the homosexuals, atheists, and liberals. Blah.