Having been told to get to school for about 9.50am, I set my alarm for 8.30am, which would give me time to get dressed and have some breakfast, as I needed to leave at 9.20am to give myself enough time to walk to the school. Bring about now, of course, the inevitable.
I rolled over the next morning, thinking I ought probably to get up, checked my phone. 9.15am. I swore, and I promise I have never moved so fast in the morning before. Within four minutes, I was dressed and had a full face of make-up on, and downstairs grabbing a glass of juice before legging it out of the front door, without even the time to put the breakfast things away. Not the impression I've been trying to make of myself, at all.
I took the slightly longer route to the school, just because it was the one of which I was most certain: I didn't want to risk getting lost and being really late. In the end it was fine, I was maybe even a couple of minutes earlier than I planned thanks to the art of powerwalking. Someone in the street asked me for directions but as I was as clueless as her, I was no help. Her parting words were, "Vous êtes anglaise?" ("Are you English?") Yes. Yes, I am. As I walked into school, a member of staff spotted me and took me to the staff room, where I spoke with a couple of teachers partly in English and partly in French. I'm surprised actually how many people have some English. I didn't think it would happen, but, for example, a sports teacher there had spent a few months in the USA and asked me some questions.
After a few minutes though, I went back to reception to wait for Fanny, who then took me to meet the headteacher. I was a little apprehensive, as the break was short and Fanny had to get back to lessons, so I spoke to the headteacher alone, but I'm pleased to announce I understood almost everything, and even managed to do some replying successfully in French, before we discovered that the French, Germans and British all have the same phrase, "to be in good hands", directly translated into each language. Fanny says he used to be a German teacher. I was then introduced to the secretaries who gave me some paperwork to fill in, bits of which had to be explained to me. We then began to tackle the mountain of papers needed for me to be paid. It was pure luck that I hadn't cleaned my bag out from the last time I used it and all my paperwork just happened to be there from the trip to the bank, but regardless I had everything necessary on me. Thankfully. Also, whilst I was completing the papers, I met the deputy head, who wore rather a swish suit. I notice suits, is all. He was also very welcoming, for which I was grateful. Subsequently, I went to the library to use the computer where I became acquainted with the librarian, and a few students who sort of stared at me in amazement even though I spoke in French. There goes my accent again, giving me away.
I'm dedicating a special section here to the whole French keyboard malarkey. Why are keyboards not international? There I was, typing away, when I suddenly noticed my words did not say what I thought they said. QWERTYUIOP? No, AZERTYUIOP. Shift key combinations for numbers and full stops? What are you thinking? The one change I did appreciate was an exclamation mark right next to the space bar. I'd be interested to know why the differences.
Moving on, it was shortly lunchtime. The French do lunchtime in a big way. I've never known a country eat so much for lunch - it's a full-on meal and it's also earlier than I'm used to, but no doubt I will adapt soon. It makes sense, after all, to eat more when you're more likely to use the energy rather than at night when you're just going to go to sleep. They like their meat, and of course their cheese; yesterday for lunch I had a kind of cheese pastry thing, soup, bread, a fish stew type thing, rice, a yoghurt (to which you have to add sugar) and a fruit compote. For lunch.
I met even more members of staff during the rest of the hour-and-a-half lunch break. I chatted to one of the English teachers who has visited the Black Country for a bit before switching into French. I get this sort of weird dread when someone wants me to speak French, but I jumped in anyway and tried to just have an ordinary kind of conversation with about four or five other teachers. I didn't think it was anything special, but they wouldn't let me end the conversation on "No I don't!" in response to "Tu parles très bien le français!" ("You speak French very well!") so that was a nice confidence boost, and I learnt some new vocabulary in the process.
After lunch, I said goodbye and meandered out to the car park where I met Leanne, another assistant who comes from Jersey and lives in Fauville-en-Caux, about fifteen minutes away from me, and we spent the afternoon shopping for flat decorations - I bought some posters and a DVD of The Prestige, although it still has the security packaging on that I can't break - and some food, picking up bits of vocabulary in Carrefour, and then chatting in her flat for a while before I returned to Fanny's for tea. So far today I've just worked on some grammar and vocabulary (getting into the habit of doing it every day) and eaten again. Tonight, I'm going to meet a teacher from my second school for dinner. She's British and comes from Stoke-on-Trent originally, so it will be interesting to see if the way her house is run is any different from Fanny's. No doubt I will let you know. It's quiet now, as I write this, which is a change from the energy the kids seem to keep finding. I don't know how they do it.
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| The view from the living room this afternoon. |
Well we Brits have stereotypes of the French that they're pompous, rude and disinterested in anything distinctly not French, but so far I don't think that's very fair. Our general courtesy in Britain (from most people) sets us up to think these things, but they're not exactly accurate. The French people I've seen are not rude, they're just not, in general, as polite as we are. And in fact some of them are! The staff I've met, on the whole, are kind, interested, and almost all of them tried out as much English as they know on me before they speak in French. (The teachers say to me that French people aren't very good at languages but almost all of the teachers have had a few words of English at least.) I'd just say that you have to speak up. My experiences suggest that in Britain if you're quiet you might be drawn into a conversation by somebody, but that won't necessarily happen in France. If you have something to say, say it. And, if you don't know the words, ask.
However, with regard to their military stereotype... Well, I just couldn't possibly comment...
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