Bonjour la Classe

As far as I know, the law of gravity still exists. So, no: I did not fall off the face of the Earth. Rather, I just happened to have started work and have been incorporating that into my schedule, and I didn't realize how long it had been since I posted a blog update. So, here you are.

The main thing I want to speak about is my job: teaching. Well, a teaching assistant. Ok, not really "teaching"...but rather a "language assistant" is what I'm called. I'm here to go to high school English classes to speak with the students and better their English by allowing them to speak to and hear a native speaker. It also gives them a way to ask questions and learn about American culture, education, etc. In addition, I will work with small groups in the classes and run through activities with them, dialogue with them on fictitious scenarios, and speak to them about business practices in America. (Some of the students are "BTS" - brevet de technicien supérieur - that is to say, they are high school graduates (post-baccalauréat) working on an advanced degree.)

My school has many, many English classes. I only work 12 hours a week. You do the math. They are wanting to me to see so many students, that I've been to a new class almost every single time for the past three weeks. This wouldn't be so bad if I was doing something engaging or actually working with the students. However, as anyone would be wont to do upon their first encounter with someone, the majority of my classes have been "Introduce Yourself" classes, with me speaking about myself and my life, and the students asking me questions. There are a few reasons why this is embêtant to me:

1 - Most of the students are often a) shy, b) nervous to speak English to someone who speaks it fluently, or c) too "cool" to participate in class. Which leads to many awkward silences when they aren't asking questions and their teachers are trying to prod them along.

2 - I basically get the same questions in every single class. From "How old are you?" to "Do you like French food?" - all the basics you could imagine. And when you've answered the same questions in 15 different classes, you get quite bored of yourself.

3 - On the rare occasion where there is a more interesting question, I am limited to how I can respond due to their (non)comprehension of the English language. For example, it's enough of a struggle to explain (in vocabulary that they will understand) their "universal healthcare" versus the American private system. So when they ask me how much it costs to go to a doctor, all I can say is "Pick a number between 0 and 100,000. Voila, someone has paid that much before." How can I explain copays and deductibles and in/out-of-network and HMOs and etc in a way that they'd understand? Hell, in America we have entire college courses - majors, even - dedicated to understanding that.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining...much. It's a pretty sweet set up I have here - only teaching 12 hours per week (albeit for a less-than desirable pay, but it's something at least), and the rest of the time I'm left on my own to live la vie française. I've just grown tired of hearing my own voice talking about myself in the most boring fashion possible (to my ears, at least).

At first, I likened these "introduction" classes to continuously watching the most boring autobiographical film ever about yourself. Over and over again. However, I'd like to make a slightly better analogy. Consider the facts:

• The students themselves are different in each class
• They sometimes ask different questions, but the same "core" questions are always there
• These "core" questions consist of a cursory look into my background, where I'm from, what I studied, my likes/dislikes, etc
• There are perpetual awkward silences
• Both parties are trying to fill the silent voids with something - anything - to help the time pass

Yes, ladies and gentleman, I think the better analogy would be to compare it to a string of unending, awkward first dates. Where you can tell neither of you is that interested, and you're just trying to get through the date. Look back over my list and you'll see that I'm correct. The only thing missing is that I don't have to pay the bill for a dinner.

Santé! Scentez! Sans thé!

Am I perfect? Yes.

(Do I lie? Yes.)

So accept - and laugh at - my imperfection in the following tale:

I have a decent comprehension of the French language - from grammar to vocabulary to speaking it to hearing it. However, I do make the occasional mistake. (And I'm very loosely defining "occasional" - it's impinging on "often")

Much like in English (and probably every other spoken language), French has homophones. Words that sound the same, but have a different meaning. For example: bear/bare, to/too/two, and rays/raise/raze/rase/rehs/reis/res. Even picture/pitcher (depending on who you're talking to, Doug).

I have made homophonic comprehension mistakes in my conversations since I have been in Limoges, but none come as readily or hilariously to mind as the one that occurred during my last trip to France in 2008.

I was at a dinner party with my host family: eating, chatting and enjoying the evening on their rooftop terrace. Someone opened a bottle of wine, filled up our glasses, and then lifted his glass to the company - a nod and a smile were his toast to all. My host-mother then turned to me, proffered her glass and said, "Santé!" Which means "health," or in this situation, a toast "to your health." Seems innocuous and straightforward enough. Well...

Here's what you need to know. The word "santé" is pronounced "sawn-tay" (at least, that's the best approximation I can give for a non-French speaking pronunciation). Do you know what else is pronounced sawn-tay? The verb scenter (and it's imperative 2nd person conjugation scentez). Scenter means "to smell," and thus scentez is the command "smell!" or "smell this!" Do you see where I'm taking this?

So she extended her glass to me and said, "Santé!" But I heard "Scentez!" - "Smell!" So I did. I leaned forward and sniffed her wine glass. I assumed she just wanted me to better appreciate the wine or get my opinion on it. However, the look on her face indicated that I couldn't have been further from the truth. A quick "Um...didn't you say smell?" and a "No, I said to your health, as a toast!" later and she started busting out laughing. I don't blame her - I would have laughed at me, too. It was quite an amusing situation (in retrospect), and one of my favorite tales to tell of my trip.

So there you are. A tale of warning. Learn from my mistakes. If you ever hear something that doesn't make much sense/since/cents, you might want to take a second to stop and ponder it's homophones before acting on what you thought you heard. It could save you an embarrassing situation, but it also might cost you a funny story. Your choice.

(Having no bearing on this story, but interesting: there is a third homophone of santé that I thought of - sans thé which means "without tea." That would have made no sense in the situation, but if I thought that's what she had said, the reaction I would have given would have been less embarrassing - a puzzled look as to what she had said as opposed to me inhaling at the rim of her glass.)

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Finally, for your viewing pleasure: a German immigrant who attempts to make sense of American idioms. His name is Flula, and once you watch one video, you will watch them all. Hilarious.