Episode VIII

FEUILLES FRANÇAISES EPISODE VIII ~ January 18, 2010

Dear Friends,

It’s hard to believe that the first two weeks of the second half of my trip are in the books.

As I mentioned last round, school started back up on January 4, but I have been far from busy these last two weeks (scholastically speaking). My teachers keep cancelling classes for various reasons. It is very frustrating for me when they do this. I am here to teach, not to sit around. I understand illness, but I don’t understand why I am not allowed to take the whole class! Especially now that I am officially a certified teacher (I got my certificate for Maine, finally!), but that does not seem to make any difference, so these past two weeks have been a little rough. Sorry for the ranting, but I am very frustrated at the moment.

One of my completed quilt projects. This one was begun in Barre, VT by my late Step-Grandmother Martha, the one who helped teach me French, so it is only fitting that this quilt should be (partially) Made In France. No pictures of the other one, as it is a surprise for a blog-reader. :o)

Though, these past few weeks have been blessed by a sewing machine! Marie-Paule had an old Singer in the attic that we got working again, so with all the canceled classes, I have been able to do some sewing. The trouble is, I have had a lot more free time than I counted on, so of the three projects I brought back over with me, two are already done. Oops. Sadly, the French do not do much sewing it seems, because quilt fabric is hard to come by and very expensive, so I guess I am going to have to find another outlet for my free time if the class cancellations continue.

Thankfully, my tradition of Monday night suppers with Gina and Viola survived Christmas break. We bounce back and forth between the two residences (Gina and Viola are roommates in a teacher apartment at one of the schools) and have dinner together as a “Hey, we survived Monday,” sort of thing. I am really lucky to be in Bourges with 12 other assistants, they really are the best part about living in this town (not to say that the town is a total bummer, but my friends are really awesome!). With we dozen foreigners, there is always someone to hang out with, and it is always cool to try new foods, hear new perspectives, and pick up little words and phrases. I love our Monday suppers because it is also a great time to decompress and to talk about our problems and successes with school.

However, cooking in France is, as ever, and adventure. There is a ton of great food here, and usually the ingredients are superb. But it is very hard to have to re-learn how to make dishes I know very well. For example, I wanted to make tacos the other week, which is fine, I planned ahead and brought over a spice packet from the US, but then there was the problem of taco cheese. Shaw's taco cheese, or even shredded Jack cannot be found here. Same with making lasagna, We always make it with Provolone, which was hard to find, and once found, was incredibly expensive. I know, I know, I am in the land of haut cuisine, and I am eating tacos, but hey, sometimes you just need a little comfort food with guacamole!

Bye James! (with his bike in the huge box).

Seeing off my Friend from Down Under

Speaking of friends, I am down one, at least here in town: James has gone home to Australia. :o( James was one of the first people I met over here, and he, Gina, and I had our little Anglophone family away from home. He’s gone back to start “Uni.” James did something kind of cool, that I wish was more practical in the US. James took a “gap year.” Basically he took a year off between high school and college, which some people in the US do, but it seems to be a lot more prevalent in Australia. Exactly how James ended up in Bourges is still somewhat of a mystery, but he spent the better part of the last year here working on his French, traveling Europe, and working when he could. I think that a lot of adolescents in the US would benefit from a year to get their heads on straight before moving on to higher education. Unfortunately, it is not a practical option back home: usually you get kicked off your parents’ insurance, and then have to justify to admissions what you did in your time out of school. So a fond farewell to my favorite Aussie, though he assures me that I am not quite shot of him, he plans to study abroad in Michigan in the fall of 2011, so I am sure he will be making a stop by New England (apparently I got him addicted to Thanksgiving).

A week and a half ago, I turned 25, so back in the states, I am finally a total legal adult, I can rent a car, and my insurance went down. Interestingly enough, I became a full-on adult in the US, but in France, I became a spinster. Apparently there is a law that states that in France, an unmarried woman over the age of 25 is a spinster, and if a French citizen, she is entitled to money from the government. Apparently now, in France, it is a tradition on November 25, the Feast of St. Catherine (who is the patron saint of spinsters), for all women who are over 25 (and unmarried) to make a crazy hat and go out on the town (almost like a bachelorette party, but flaunting spinsterhood). It’s almost too bad that I will not be here for St. Catherine’s next year, it sounds like a lot of fun. For my Birthday, Viola was kind enough to make me a cake, complete with candles (not 25, because that is fire hazard territory), and Marie-Paule invited me to dinner and there was a candle in my crepe for dessert (not to mention a recipe book full of wonderful French desserts). So despite being on the other side of the world, I still had a special birthday.

My Gallette, which, I must say, was pretty darn near perfect, if I do say so myself!

Again, but it was so perfect I have to torture you with two pictures!

One of the figurines from inside a store-bought Gallette, its the Magic Mirror from Shrek! I have my own little collection!


Gina, the youngest at the Gallette party hides under the table to assign pieces of cake.

Over the weekend I had a little party, sort of a combination birthday and epiphany party (which sounds a little egotistical). Here in France, being a mostly Catholic country, they celebrate the Epiphany. Now, the Epiphany is when the three kings arrived in Bethlehem to visit the baby Jesus, and they arrive on January 6 (which happens to be the 12th day of Christmas). The French celebrate this event by eating la Gallette des Rois (King Cake), which happens to be one of my FAVROTIE things on the planet! I first discovered it when I arrived in France in 2006, just after the Epiphany (they eat it any time during the month of January, really). The cake is more of a pastry, in terms of American thinking. Two circles of puff pastry filled with an almond cream made of: powdered almonds, butter, sugar, egg yolks, vanilla, and rum. Hidden inside is a little porcelain figurine, some are traditional: farm animals, some are modern: Harry Potter and Shrek. Many people collect the figurines (apparently most families do not make their own Gallette, they buy it from one of the pastry shops, but I am a purist). So the figurine is baked into the cake, and when the cake is served, the youngest person in attendance sits under the table and tells the server which piece goes to whom (so if the figurine can be seen, it cannot be intentionally given to someone). Whoever finds the figurine in their piece of cake, gets to wear a crown and be the king for the rest of the evening. I love this tradition, and I have done it a couple of times in the states. Though, I will be somewhat glad when January is over, because I am not sure how much more gallette my waistline can handle, but it is just SO good!

Les Soldes, all the windows in town look something like this in varying degrees of brightness and obnoxiousness.

You too can save 30! No 40! 50! Even 70% on select merchandise!


SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!!

But, should my waistline expand too much, I am lucky, because the month of January is “Les Soldes” (The Sales)! In France, stores are really not allowed to have sales. You know how in the US, Kohl’s is ALWAYS having some sort of sale? That does not happen here, it’s not allowed, except for twice a year. In January and again in June (or maybe July) all stores in France are permitted to, and required to have massive sales for about a month. So right now, everything in France is on sale, literally, except, of course, for the new collections. It is crazy to try to go shopping right now, it is like every day is Black Friday, and there are just so many people around. I’ve done a bit of shopping, but not very much, but shopping has never really been my thing. So if you love to shop, the time to visit France is definitely during les Soldes.

On the subject of cultural differences: the mail. Here the mail comes in three separate increments daily. Usually one person, on a bicycle delivers the junk mail: fliers, advertisements, etc. You actually can write on your mailbox the French equivalent of: no junk mail (pas de pub SVP) and not receive any. Then another person, usually also on a bike, comes around with the regular mail: letters, bills, and medium-sized packages. Then, later on, a truck comes around with the larger packages. So triple the chances to be happy for getting mail, or triple the disappointment, depending on how you look at it.

Traveling the rails with Viola and Gina (who always look so much more stylish and put together than I do even on my best day)

The only recognition that Vichy ever had anything to do with WWII or the deportation of Jews. I have seen bigger headstones for Joe Schmoe.

The spring which cures arthritis. But the water that comes out of it is so gross looking and brown that it probably does not cure the arthritis, but just makes you feel so disgusted that you forget the pain in your joints.

Last weekend, I took a day trip to Vichy with Gina and Viola. Vichy was the center of Occupied France under the Nazis. The government installed there was responsible for governing all of northern France. I was very interested in visiting a town with such a torrid history, but was HUGELY disappointed upon arriving. Vichy seems to pretend that the events between 1940 and 1944 never happened. There are no museums, no explanations save for a little (and by European standards this is tiny) marker as a memorial to those deported to the death camps under the Nazi regime. Otherwise, not a shred of recognition that Vichy was ever of any historical significance. I found this a little offensive, honestly. In Germany, today, you can walk the path of the Berlin Wall. In Poland, you can tour Auschwitz. In the United States, you can read and learn about slavery. I got the impression that Vichy tries to hide its history, and as an historian, that offends me. Not all history is pretty, but I think it needs to be acknowledged to be remembered and learned from. So, shame on Vichy. Vichy now is just known as a pretty spa town. Granted, since Gallo-Roman times, Vichy has been known for its thermal springs which allegedly have healing powers, even one has a certificate from a Parisian hospital saying that it cures arthritis. I think Vichy could be a very pretty town in the summer, with all the gardens and green spaces, but overall, I was not impressed, and the lack of historical disclosure left a very bad taste in my mouth.

This week, at Littre, I have no school. All of my troisiemes (thirds: the last year of “middle school) are doing job shadows. This is really cool. Every student in the third year has one week off from school, and they are required to do a job shadow in a field of their choice. I have some students who are shadowing lawyers, veterinarians, teachers, fire fighters, restauranteurs, etc. It is a chance for them to start exploring their career options at the age of 14. However, in France, this is necessary, my troisiemes will have to start choosing their career path at the end of this year (willing they receive their middle school diploma). When they enter lycee (high school) they need to start preparing for the baccalauréat, the scary end-of-lycee exam that determines whether or not you graduate high school and whether or not you can go to University. Le bac (as the kids call it) is the diploma you receive, and unlike in the US, these diplomas are more specific. There are three different areas of the bac: science, social and economic, literature (arts, languages, etc). Whichever bac you possess, does hold some bearing on your future. You CAN go from having a science bac to being a journalist, but it is a lot harder to go from a literature bac to being a doctor. So by the time they pick their classes for next fall, some of my students will have to be certain what direction they want to take in their professional lives. Also, some of my students are not destined for the general bac, and at the end of this year, will be excluded from higher education. Students placed in professional to technical tracks will not be going on to college, and some of these decisions have already been made. I have some students who have already been written off by their teachers as destined for “lycee professionel,” do not pass go, do not go to college. In my mind, that is totally unfair. To count a kid out at the age of 15? Not ok with me. I had friends in high school who did a fair bit of messing around and got mediocre grades, but the switch flipped Junior year and they got their act together so as to be able to get into college. That is not an option in France. I think the thing that bothers me the most is, France preaches equality across the board, the classes are all heterogeneous (mixed abilities), and tracking is outlawed. But then they start playing “the Giver” and choosing students’ career paths before they are properly through puberty. Granted, not everyone can be a brain surgeon, but no one should be counted out at the age of 15.

This week at Jean Renoir, I am switching classes. Starting this week, I have almost all sixeme (sixths, the first year of “middle school), and I am very nervous. These kids have only just begun to learn English. So this should be interesting, since I am supposed to get them to talk and expose them to the natural accent, but they only really know how to tell me what their name is, and say how they are today. This is going to be an interesting challenge, probably a lot like teaching very little kids, which, as many of you know, is NOT my specialty, I am much happier in a High School classroom, but live and learn, and I did come here for some experience after all.

Not much else to report for the moment. I have been battling a cold on and off since I got back from the states. This week I am trying to keep myself busy while my students are off doing their job shadows. I am starting to prepare for the job hunt for next fall (so if anyone hears of any openings anywhere in New England for a Social Studies teacher, please let me know post haste). I have purchased my tickets to come home (May 5, if you want to show up at Logan with flowers and balloons), and also booked my trip to Greece to see an old friend (leaving February 5!!!!!!). I am headed to Limoges on Friday with Viola.

Sorry that this was not the most interesting issue of Feuilles, but I suppose I am storing up my exciting blogs for my upcoming February Adventures!

Until next time, I remain your eyes, ears, nose, tastebuds, and finger tips to the Francophone world,

~Monica