Monday, 31 October 2011

Pictures.

 Since its been the school holidays this week, and I've been in England for some of it anyway, there's not a lot to report. Since I've been back I've tried to take a few more pictures though, so here they are!
Late night tram rides





Hipster underground (quite literally) DJ sets

No, seriously, he played a saxophone to drum and bass.

Andernos-les-bain.

The beach on the 30th October.



The sun setting over the Atlantic Ocean is one of the best things I've ever seen.


Monday, 17 October 2011

And Another Thing.

I know I already talked about teeth and all that, but its been a long and entertaining day. Here are some of my favourite occurrences:
  1. When I got in the car to drive to work this morning at the fresh faced hour of 7.15am, the radio came on and I can't remember whether it was NRG or the interestingly named 'blackbox', Bordeaux's hip-hop radio station, but some DJ out there had chosen that precise moment to play Blue - All Rise and Monsieur le DJ I think I have you to thank for waking me up and reminding me to drive on the right in between making some stellar (albeit seatbelt-restrained) shapes.
  2. During a lesson on Halloween, in which I had stuck flashcards of various Halloween characters - a witch, a skeleton, a monster, etc etc - on the board, I whipped out some flashcards of other Halloween related items and asked the children to tell me who each item belonged to. The pitchfork went to the devil, the sarcophagus to the mummy, and finally I held up a picture of a broomstick. There was by this point quite a lot of raucous behaviour going on since I'd divided the class in half and made it into a race - if you don't have any sugar to hand this is a surefire way to make an 8 year old go mental - and so, in order to make himself heard, one overenthusiastic individual shouted over the chaos "GIVE [it to] THE BITCH!!' Perfect. Perfect.
  3. Driving in stationary traffic along the rocade, the M25's less well organised cousin, I heard a siren behind me. The French drivers of Bordeaux, not renowned for their empathy or their driving skills, clearly had no interest in helping this mysterious emergency vehicle in reaching its destination, but with a lot of revving and huffing (and undoubtedly a good few 'putains'), we all managed to clear a path down the middle of the two lanes for it to use. Imagine my surprise when rather than a nice shiny ambulance or police car, along zoomed a car which could only be described as 'a banger' with an apparently magnetic flashing light clinging perilously to the roof above the driver's head and blaring at full volume a siren which may or may not have been coming from what I can only assume was a cassette deck. Either Starsky and Hutch have some Gallic counterparts who were on their way to save the day or, as I am inclined to believe, one frustrated commuter had reached out to eBay after a particularly long day. Whichever was the case, it was très amusant. 

The Basics.

Every class that I've been into so far, I've tried to teach, or reinforce, 'the basics' first, before heading onwards and upwards to the heady heights of colours, breakfast stuffs and the contents of a pencil case. This consists of a list of everyday classroom requests that I think will be important if, as Aquitaine's Inspector of Education so greatly desires, I am to communicate with these primary school children purely in English. 

Having decided on this plan, I set about spending a good 5 or 10 minutes coming up with the definitive list of classroom phrases, and this is what I produced:

  • Good Morning/Good Afternoon
  • How are you today?
  • Listen!
  • Be Quiet!
  • Stand up
  • Sit down
  • Raise your hand
  • I'll say a word, and then you repeat it
  • What's this?
  • Point to the...
  • Who can tell me...?
  • Is there anybody here who...?
  • We're going to play a game
  • Goodbye
  • See you soon/See you next week
A fairly comprehensive list? Yes, I thought so too, but oh, how naïve I was.

Soon to be added to the list were:
  • Stop doing that!
  • No, I said "in English"
  • Pay attention.
  • What are you doing?
  • Take your pencil away from her face.
  • Yes, I saw you.
  • And that means *insert french word and hope there are no hidden microphones*.
Next, came the requests for translations from keen young children who had clearly listened when I told them that their classroom was to be an English-only zone and wanted to ask the following things:
  • Please can I go to the toilet?
  • Please can I get a tissue?
  • Why do you have a mosquito bite on your arm?
  • Why are you here?
  • Do you like the Queen?
  • Do English people live in houses?
  • Do English people drive cars?
  • What do English people drink?
  • Do you have towns in England?
  • Do you want to be the Queen?
  • Can French people be the King of England? - a controversial topic, but one I thought I'd leave for today.
However, my absolute favourite has to be the following:
  • Help! My tooth has fallen out.
Unusual, you may think? No, not at all. The first time this happened, I thought it was quite sweet and a little nostalgic. The second time was a much more bloody affair, and the sentence had to undergo a little conjugation to become 'Help! His tooth has fallen out and now he's bleeding all over my books'. The third time, I wondered whether I was under some sort of curse. But after some reflection, I realised that no, I was stupid not to have thought of it first. 

Lets just think this through. I'm teaching 5-10 year olds in 2 different schools. I see every single child in each school. Each school has about 150 pupils. That's 300 children. Each child has 20 baby teeth. That's 6000 teeth.
6000 teeth ready to drop at any moment. Really, it should have come before 'Good Morning'.

Friday, 14 October 2011

Maurice.

Another thing:

I also have a new room mate called Maurice. That's 'Maureece' as they say en français.

He is a mosquito.

He likes to sleep in my wardrobe during the day so that I can't catch him and then come out at night just after I have switched off the light and sing me to sleep before he has a good old nibble on whichever limb happens to be emerging from my duvet. If no limbs are available he also enjoys my ears and my neck. But he is sneaky. He knows that I will kill him if we ever actually meet so as soon as the light goes on he creeps back inside the wardrobe.

Whilst at first he was annoying, if not infuriating, I appear to be exhibiting symptoms of Stokholm syndrome. Now I actually greet him when I hear his dulcet tones and I think he sometimes even may even be attempting to sing Coldplay.

So, Maurice, if you read this, and I feel like maybe its you who drains my laptop battery while I'm out, I have a message: Please not the face. 

Update.

First of all, I can't believe its been a whole week since I last wrote one of these. Whereas the first week that I was here seemed to last for years, this one has gone past in a flash. Work is coming along ok. If anything, lesson two turned out to be harder than lesson one, because with 'what's your name?' ''how old are you?' and 'where do you live?' out of the way I've actually had to do some genuine teaching malarky. The first lesson of this week - and I really do feel like my life is moving along in a collection of 'life lessons' (often related to my second greatest pastime, 'awkward moments') - was that before you enter a primary school you really do have to leave any inhibitions or insecurities at the door. One common demand has been 'OK, now sing,' to which mumbling '..err I don't really d..' is received with a standard French shrug. In terms of student participation, the clear winner this week was 'heads, shoulders, knees and toes', although I do fear that the children considered it some sort of tribal chant rather than English. I felt particularly pleased with myself when the first class I taught it to really took it on board and sung along with gusto, but when I congratulated them on their linguistic prowess they all looked blank. 'What do you mean?' one boy asked. 'You just sang in English so see, you can speak some English now,' I replied, only to be met with raucous laughter. 'That wasn't English!' he said, 'this is English: Hello.' So I fear the embarrassing song singing may not have been quite as successful as I'd hoped. Another key part of teaching is that you have to constantly think on your feet. The expression 'never flog a dead horse' was written somewhere in the British Council's advice leaflet, and I think its the most important by far. There is nothing worse than sitting in front of a class full of blank expressions as you try to explain something that is never going to catch on. I think the feeling must be similar to that of a standup comedian who's punchline has just been met with silence, but the most important thing is not to panic. Just pretend it never happened and change tack immediately. As well as the apparently obligatory singing, dancing and acting, and the constant possibility of deathly silence, obstacles have included 'That One Kid'. If you've ever been in a classroom, either as a teacher or a pupil, you'll know this particular individual. He (and I'm sorry to say that he is, without fail, a boy) either sits right at the front or right at the back. His desk is normally separated from the others a little, and he usually has a whole load of extra things on top of it like his whole pencil case emptied out, a few twigs or pebbles from the playground, and other contraband that the teacher has long ago given up confiscating. I don't know why the the British Council didn't dedicate a page of their booklet to him, maybe its not politically correct, I don't know, but by the third classroom of the week I knew to keep an eye out. My favourite 'That One' was called Maxim and ran laps around the classroom for almost an entire lesson without anyone batting an eyelid. There was also Guillaume who, whether out of boredom or political protest in the form of subversion of the expected, sat on the floor holding his chair above his head. Another had apparently confused English and Japanese culture and so stood up and bowed to me every time I asked him a question or in fact made eye contact. Ideal. There is no way to stop them, so you just have to nod and smile and then carry on with reciting the colours or something. 
Obstacles aside, I really have enjoyed most of my lessons this week. The kids are attentive and so so long as you have a plan B (and a plan C) for when your first plan doesn't really go so well, they are really keen to learn. I have also enjoyed hanging out in the staffroom, where I've found that for the first time I can genuinely (and with more than a little pride) use the line 'no, no, don't worry, we'll speak in French,' as my French is better than most of the teacher's English. Conversation tends to be around our children (I smile and laugh appropriately), our in-laws (more smiling and a little gasping), our 'That One Kid's (laughing and/or gasping) and the questionable parenting skills of some of the parents of kids at the school. On the whole, I try to eat my lunch and not do anything to embarrass myself, but since it takes them 2 whole hours to eat this is obviously quite an ask. A less than fabulous moment occurred when having sat for about half an hour smiling and gasping I reached for something and managed to catapult spaghetti bolognese onto my own face. Not ideal. I thought the following damage control had gone fairly smoothly until the teacher sat next to me turned, saw me picking spaghetti off my neck and screamed. Perfect. Other than that though, things have gone ok.
Supermarket shopping is another experience, but there is a definite skill to it. At first, it seemed as though food in France was much more expensive than in England, but the main thing I've learnt is that this is only true if you try to stubbornly stick to your English shopping list. The ingredients for a stir fry will inevitably cost more than 10€, but paté is less than 1€. Shopping like a French person is hard, but I'm slowly picking it up. 
There is no shortage of evening entertainment, and so far we've sampled many (but still only the tip of the iceberg) of Bordeaux's bars and restaurants, the fun fair that is currently set up in the centre of town, and even tried our hand at a pub quiz (didn't go that well). Now that the summer weather is back we may even get to go back to the beach or out to a vineyard this weekend. I definitely feel like I've earned a reward after the first week of actual work I've ever done!
Pictures to come, I promise!!

Friday, 7 October 2011

Update.

Ok so I've been here a while now and I have to say its starting to feel more like home. That may be because its started raining though, I'm not sure. I also finally persuaded Southampton's vpn to let me watch Spooks so that might have something to do with it too. Anyway, tasks which a week ago were absolutely terrifying are now only mildly worrying, and some have even become quite enjoyable. If you work at SFR I'm not talking about you. Monday's information day was nothing if not French, since we effectively managed to spend 6 hours filling out one form and turning down extra health insurance, being told the exact same information at least 4 times by a man who clearly thought the women running the day were there to make coffee and needed their speeches to be translated into more emphatic language just in case we hadn't realised that wandering out of a school and leaving a class of seven year olds unattended was not okay. He also felt the need to reassure us that if we ever needed to see a gynaecologist, they could help us out. However, French lunacy aside, it was great to finally find all the other assistants who are lurking around this city. Everyone is really friendly and really open and although I know we are here to speak French I feel a hundred times more comfortable knowing that there will always be the option of a glass of wine and a moan in our mother tongues. Don't get me wrong, I love speaking French, but sometimes a person just needs diphthongs and transgender nouns. Having said that, I've had two really good nights out with my French colocatrice and her friends, who have kindly taken me under their wing a little, and I've actually been amazed at how much I have understood and been able to participate. So, Dad, you can relax. Just daily household conversations are becoming much easier to conduct too, I no longer have to decide on a sentence before I say it, I just speak and all this French falls out. This has pros and cons - conversations are less tiring now, but it does mean that for about the first hour of the morning I only speak in infinitive verbs.


This week I've been to the two schools I will be teaching in and met all the staff who are lovely and who remind me of the staff at Ford House. We all 'tutoie' each other and everyone is really helpful and accommodating. I have just spent today having meetings with each of the teachers I will be helping and worked out a vague plan for the year so I can start to prepare games and things to do with the children which is exciting but also a little daunting. I hadn't realised (although I probably should have) just how dependent they are going to be on me because though I am here as an 'assistant' at least 3 of the 6 teachers I spoke to today have hardly any English at all. Meeting all the kids has been so much fun, especially since now that I have been round the classrooms to present myself - which has made the top ten scariest moments of my life to date - they all love to shout to me when they see me walking around the school. On my mentor teacher's advice I told them all that I don't speak any French at all (only aged 7 would you fail to realise that I speak in French with their teachers when we are deciding what to do..) and so if they try to speak to me in French I make this over exaggerated face of confusion until they cave and speak in English and then run away giggling. I really like how proud they all are of the English that they have, if they say something which I understand they beam and try to say something else. Amongst the younger ones this is a little misguided though, when I asked a class of 6 year olds if anybody could tell me what their name was one tiny girl threw her arm into the air like Nadal serving a tennis ball but when I picked her and she stood up she proudly answered 'onetwothreefourfiiiive'. There might be work to be done but they have an enthusiasm which makes you want to do it, so now I can't wait to start properly. 


What else, what else? Ok, so lets talk about driving. I know I may have turned left at a roundabout today but it was a very small one so it could have been a crossroads and there were no other cars around so its really fine. On the whole, my driving is going well, though I say so myself. Parallel parking is coming along fine, yesterday I managed to do it without tearing up a little so that's a success and I've sort of narrowed it down from approximately 30 adjustments to between 10 and 15 so its going well. A few days ago Kathy and I saw a man reverse into a minuscule space at light speed and do some sort of handbrake turn into it so that his car was perfectly parked in less than 10 seconds and this is now one of my life goals. Not going so well, however, is the old motorway driving. I know that stereotypes are on the whole ignorant and unnecessary but I have found one exception and that is that the French do not know how to drive. Bordeaux's ring road is a duel carriageway which is big enough to be a motorway and has motorway-style slip roads. Ok, so two lanes, then a slip road, like this ll\. So far, at least five times (this isn't even an exaggeration I've counted them), I have been coming down the slip road indicating left with a car driving along slower than the speed limit in the first lane exactly parallel or about half a car's length behind me. I can't slow down, because there's someone behind. I can't pull out, because I'll crash into them, I can't accelerate, because there is no more slip road. I look over to their car to see what they are playing at and see that the whole left hand lane is empty. Just what, what are they doing? I think that I am going to have to install wacky races style flame throwers to my hubcaps because its making me so angry. I'm considering asking Tony Campbell if I can change my year abroad project title to 'The French: Why are they so bad at driving? An ethnological study' and then maybe install sirens to my car's roof so that I can pull these people over and interview them. I'm not sure what sort of health and safety risks would be involved but I genuinely what to know what they are thinking. 


Anyway, I think that's all the news to report for this week. When I find the cable which connects my camera to my computer I may even put up some pictures. Don't hold your breath though I need to take some first. 


A toute à l'heure and all that. 

Whoops.

Turned left at a roundabout today.
Don't worry, nobody saw. 

Sunday, 2 October 2011

Progress.

I drank my coffee black this morning. Mainly because there was no milk left. I'm turning more français by the minute. I don't think you can really get taken seriously here if you put milk in your hot drinks. Next stop, black tea. And then to take over the Academie Française. 

Success.

After an unexpected 1am knock on my door, I found myself in Bordeaux's answer to Jesters. No matter what nationality, it seems students the world over can bond over sticky floors, questionable dj-ing skills and sketchy older men lurking in corners. Parfait.

Saturday, 1 October 2011

Year Abroad Problem Post.


  1. This one way system. 
  2. Swimwear for the over 50s is apparently not available on the beaches of Bordeaux.
  3. Insect bites.
  4. Online banking in English is hard. Online banking in French is impossible. 
  5. Currently BBC iPlayer TV programmes are available to play in the UK only, but all BBC iPlayer Radio programmes are available to you.
  6. Nobody uses indicators.
  7. The distinctions between 'cold' 'hot' 'frigid' and 'horny' are too vague for my liking.
That being said, tout va bien.