Sorry for the delay in postings, but this has been a very busy, stressful and rainy few days. On Thursday afternoon I went to my school for a meeting of English teachers. My prof picked me up and drove me over at 3:30. We first met the principal (who is new this year) and the assistant principal who chatted for a bit. Then my prof had a run in with a student who was mad at her for not being around to sign a paper for him. She chewed him out for being rude, and when he found her later to get the signature, he was totally submissive. It was kind of funny…
I was also introduced to the student counselors who will control discipline if I need help and some other profs in the teacher’s lounge. We finally made it to the meeting where she laid out a spread of cookies, chocolates, and marshmallows to accompany the tea. The English teachers filtered in, speaking in both French and English to me. The ‘meeting’ never really got started, however, because everyone just gossiped, especially when the new principal and the assistant principal showed up and turned it into a joking contest… While it was nice to see people informally like this, I was also anxious to discuss what I am supposed to do this year!
At the end, after two or three hours (I don’t remember anymore), it was just me, my prof Catherine and another English teacher Letiticia and we actually made some plans. I’m going to work three hours for four days a week—Tuesday through Friday. I will rotate groups of six from their English classes for oral practice, where I will be expected to use the grammar and vocab they are learning in class and also incorporate American cultural lessons and games. If anyone gives me a problem, I send them directly to the disciplinarians, and they are cut from my services. There are over 1,000 students in the school, so each trimester I focus on a different group—seconds (second grade here is equivalent to 10
th in the US because they count down not up—these are kids in their first of three years at high school), then firsts, the ‘
terminals’ who will have me right before they take their big final English exams. That is all I know now.
Then Catherine took me to a few of the buildings. The school has some boarding students during the week, so we saw them at dinner in the cafeteria. She introduced me to staff and groups of students at random; one group had some deaf kids in it who were confused at what she was saying, so to help out, I signed my name! In elementary school, a bunch of my friends and I learned the sign language alphabet in order to ‘talk’ during class, but I only remember the letters of my name now. So that was mildly impressive, I suppose… Historical note here: “Interestingly, however, American Sign Language shares many vocabulary terms with Old French Sign Language (LSF) because a French Deaf man, Laurent Clerc, was one of the first teachers of the Deaf in the U.S. in the nineteenth century. So if you know ASL, you're better off taking a vacation in France than in England!” (Source:
http://www.deaflibrary.org/asl.html)
Catherine led me to the infirmary and we ended up at the retirement party of one of the nurses! So I got introduced to all kinds of teachers and staff and got handed a glass of champagne. We did not leave until 8:10! And I had invited some assistants to PA’s apartment for a game night with French people that started at 8, so I was getting nervous about them showing up to a party without a host! Luckily, I arrived right when Seth and Caely did.
The party was fun—five of PA’s friends and two assistants showed up. We had drinks and snacks to share! Just as we were getting ready to play
De Pommes A Pommes—the Apples to Apples game that PA translated—the power went out in just our apartment! After lots of confusion and fears that it had been cut off for not paying the electric bill, PA managed to flip a switch in the stairway and save the party! We played
De Pommes A Pommes and Time’s Up, a version of charades. Everyone writes down a few names of real or fictive people and throws them in a bowl. The first round, you can use words to make people guess the names; round two, you can only use one word (usually referring to jokes made in round one); and in round three, you have to act out the person. The game is fun, except when there are too many French references that I don’t know. Luckily, this time I had two other Americans to sympathize with me!
And all that was only Thursday! Here is how Friday went…
I went to the school again to meet Catherine at 10:20 in the teacher’s lounge. She was late, so I talked a bit with a few of the English profs I had already met. They all did British English, so it is even a bit bizarre to talk to them in English sometimes. Catherine then took me around to some of the professional studios (because, remember, this is a professional high school, not a traditional college prep one). I saw future electricians at work and the audiovisual work space where a class on setting up the lights and sound for big events was taking place. It was all very impressive. I was introduced to tons of groups of students and profs again!
From there, I went to Catherine’s English class of seconds, who are already pretty decent at speaking basic English phrases. They asked me questions about where I was from and what high schools were like there. It helped me understand how to talk with them and help them learn at their level.
Before I left, I gave the principal’s secretary the name and number of my apartment agent because he was supposed to negotiate with her on a “Financial Guarantor” that I do not have. Apparently, in France, young people with no or low salaries need to have a Financial Guarantor to support their rent payments if necessary—and this person has to be French so that they could be taken to court in France if it comes to that. Since I have no family or close friends with a salary in France, I have no guarantor. I had assumed at this point that the school had found a way around this, or at least had found someone willing to do it for me. This was not to be the case…
I went to the agency after lunch, thinking I would be getting my keys and moving in to my apartment yesterday. At first, the keys weren’t there because the inspector still had them—I was to come back in an hour. I went and bought cleaning supplies for the place. I go to get my keys after an hour and mention that my school should call about the guarantor, and the agent said that I cannot have the keys until she knows who the guarantor is. She calls the principal directly who says he will call her back in a bit. I am instructed to come back in another hour.
Let me note that it is pouring down rain, and I am carrying heavy bags of cleaning supplies. I was so angry that this paperwork issue was getting in my way.
After another hour, the agent says she has no good news. The principal has nothing for me. She called the apartment owner, but he will take nothing less than a guarantor. I have until Monday to find one, or I’m out.
So my family is tracking down all leads to France at the moment. To be a guarantor, you have to send in salary and tax info, so it is a bit invasive. Yet, there will never be a problem because I and my parents will take care of the rent. It is all so frustrating to have no legal standing as a foreigner in this matter and have no one to help me.
This is where I am now—on the brink of losing my dream apartment because I need a French name on the books. We investigating other options like paying more up front or using an insurance program (if I can qualify). We shall see come Monday.
For today, I have Deepa, a friend from middle school who is an assistant in Rouen, coming to visit. I actually need to go pick her up from the train station in a bit, so I will sign off here.
Au revoir!
