En retard, per usual

Yes, I've been in France for over a month now, and am just now starting a blog! Better late than never, yes?

Ok, I'll start at the beginning: the airport. I was bid goodbye by both my father dearest and my dearest roommate, Athena. I didn't tear up until they were both gone and I sat by myself in the terminal of MSP. I switched planes in Chicago to make the final trip to Paris. There were five other assistants on the same plane as me, so I never had a chance to really be alone. While I'm not in the same area of France as them, it was nice to meet some people in the same place as me with the same anxieties.

Of course I didn't sleep on the plane, but that's to be expected. It wasn't until I got to Paris that the excitement started. I had to leave the other assistants, as I needed to get to Gare St. Lazare in Paris to catch a train to Val de Reuil where my contact person, Jacques, was going to meet me. I had two bags on rollers that weighed 50 pounds each and another bag with magazines and my laptop. All together, my bags weighed much more than me, but I had faith that I could make it. I took the Roissybus to Opera in Paris, which was the only stop I could get off at, and which was also about a 10 minute walk to the train station (or gare, in French). I looked at the map and told myself I could do it. So, here I was wearing my fleece and yoga pants with 130 pounds of luggage walking past Dior and Channel in Paris, all the while sweating and needing to stop every 30 meters to take a break. And of course I went the wrong way at first. I finally got to the gare and entered the doors, when I realized that I had 2 flights of stairs to climb with all my luggage, no escalator in sight. I dropped everything, ready to fall down and stay there forever, when a very helpful French man asked me if I wanted him to carry my bags up. I said yes right away. At that point it didn't matter to me if my bags were stolen--at least then I wouldn't have to carry them anymore!

Somehow I made it on the train and managed to get off at Val de Reuil, where Jacques was already waiting for me. And I didn't lose anything on the way, not even my sanity.

The first couple days I spent with Jacques and with Valerie (another English teacher) and her family. She has two young sons who fell in love with me, and vice versa. Clemond is just learning how to put sentences together, so much of what he said went right past me. Those first days were really about learning to listen to French spoken by real French people. At least Jacques and Valerie were both fluent in English as well, so when I was confused by something in French they could explain in English.

Fast forward. I'm now comfortably at home with Nicole and another Valerie, Nicole's daughter. I live on their third floor in Saint Aubin les Elbeuf, with a beautiful view of the countryside. They have been so helpful and absolutely wonderful. They even protest when I get up to put the dishes away. There's a cat here, too, Mimine (french for little cat). She has the strangest tail that's curled up like a pig's, and cow udders. She's sweet, though, and likes to sleep with me at night sometimes.

I've also started at Lycee Andre Maurois in Elbeuf sur Seine. The students are ages 15-20, but most of my students are in seconde, which is equivalent to 10th grade in the States. I also have primaire and terminale (11th and 12th). Surprisingly, their English is awful. They've been studying since they were 11 years old, but it's mandatory, so many could care less about learning English. I have to speak very, very slowly and repeat myself often. I try to not speak in French with them, as it would be easier for comprehension but wouldn't help them learn at all. I have them address me as Jenna, as I really don't want to be called Mademoiselle or Madame, while I have been addressed by the secretary of the lycee as Mrs. Hanson.

My job is about conversation, and that's what I plan with the students. They are very afraid to talk to me in English (not in French, however). I try to explain to them that I'm in the same situation in France, as French is not my first language but I have to speak it anyway.

As for speaking French, sometimes I hear myself and can't believe how quickly I speak. I feel like I'm not very good, but I'm speaking faster and faster, and know that I am understanding more as well. Verb tense still causes problems sometimes, but I'm learning and getting better. And overall, people are very helpful when they realize I'm not French. French people get a bad rap, but they are very good people on the whole. Sometimes difficult to read and can also be argumentative, but arguments are for the sake of arguing, never anything personal. That has been a lesson I've had to learn.

Well, I could go on and on but I'm going to stop for now. A bientot!