la rather belle vie

It's another sunny Sunday: the weather's decided that it's spring again and so we've got the windows open. Mind, it might be France's idea of an April Fool's joke (which here is les Poissons d'avril - the fish of April). But the weather report says it will be lovely (or at least not-rainy) the rest of the week, which is excellent, as I'm off to Paris on Tuesday to visit a friend. Warm warm warm weather coming up, I hope.

Not a lot of things happened this week. We're all getting stressed and mopey about the end of school in two weeks. I've got to start sorting out my school paperwork, for one thing, and writing a letter to next year's assistant. Fortunately, the Moroccan prof said that I could stay in France and just move in with him, but I imagine his wife would be a bit cranky about that. Still, it's nice to know I'll be missed. The students had their best startled faces when I told them I was leaving forever after vacation. A lot of them I'll miss. Astrid and Virgil, my advanced students, the only ones who actually come to class (from that group) and the only ones I've had all year. Astrid and I talk about everything: her grades, how hard she works in school, how hard her brother didn't work, her life outside of school. Virgil is coming to the U.S. next year, repeating a year of high school before he applies to an American university, and he wants to badly to play or coach basketball. The passion in both of them is incredible. Then there's David, who always wanted me to come and play football (and I wish I could have), Teddy, who I always think is little and quick but who's taller than I am (and who is bright and sassy without being disruptive), and Nico, who is quiet but very thoughtful. François once came to class even though he's not in my classes anymore. The girls from seconde trois have started behaving, mostly, and it's only Vianney who needs some discipline.

I actually had the girls from seconde deux volunteering new topics for the opinion cards the other day. "I want to talk about the bureau de surveillants!" said one of them, so I let her, and she talked about how handsome Gautier is (true enough) and how funny Rudy is (I couldn't say) and it was nice to see the students' relationship to the professionals that are there to help them out. We also spent a lot of time this week talking about how cute Romain the Spanish teacher is. And it's true, he's a wonderful guy, but it's also really funny to see the dreamy looks on all their faces when they say, "I love zee Spanish! M. Delagrange ees beautiful!" And then they make up stories about how I must be dating either him or Matthias. Oh, tiny ones, thank you for assigning considerably more excitement to my life than actually exists.

It's coming up on the presidential election here and what I'm surprised about is the lack of advertising, in comparison to the U.S. elections. I've seen a few posters: mostly on one billboard on my way to school that was covered with Royale, then Sarkozy, and now Bayrou posters. None of those homegrown ads on tv, and none of the polished ones either (though we've mostly had the tv off). I hear the teachers talking about the candidates, but overall, there's a lot less frenzy. I asked Max if he was going to vote and he looked at me like I was a little bit stupid. "It's my duty," he said. "Everybody votes." It's funny to hear so little when I know it's actually a huge deal. France could have a woman president, or it could have a crazy racist president. Never underestimate the power of fear: unemployment is already a huge problem in France and a lot of people think that immigrants make it worse, so an anti-immigrant, pro-white-French stance (nos ancetres les Gaulois style) is very welcome to a lot of people. I was talking to my two boys from seconde quatre about immigration, because they're studying Ellis Island and such. I had them write a little narrative imagining they were immigrants: where they'd be from, where they'd go to, whether they'd try to keep their old traditions or really integrate. They decided to be Chinese people immigrating to the U.S. to get better jobs, but they wanted to live in a Chinese community, speak Chinese at home, and use chopsticks to eat. I pointed out that this was basically living out their old lives in a new place, and they nodded.

"So what is it to be French?" I asked. They conferred for a moment.
"To be married to a French person."
"So if I got married to a French person, I'd be French?"
They gave me the shifty eyes. "To speak French? To live in France?"
"I speak French and I've lived in France for six months. Am I French?"
More shifty eyes.
"What makes the French spirit different from the American spirit? Is there a difference?"
The bell rang while they were still thinking, but they were thinking. And that was wonderful. I gave them a little bit of my own opinion: France knows where its boundaries are. France lives inside its language and its hexagon and its fine old traditions. America always wants to discover something new, to go beyond. They nodded a little and said goodbye and left, but I kept thinking. There are so many different people in America that the identity of an American is necessarily fragmented. We eat so many different foods, we learn about so many different holidays and traditions, we're taught that diversity is the best and strongest way from the beginning. And it doesn't stop the prejudices, but maybe it helps. It doesn't mean that we get French or (much) Spanish music on the popular radio stations, but you can find bhangra in New York clubs, and African music, and all sorts. I can hear people speaking other languages on subways and street corners without feeling the need to turn and stare at the weirdos who actually know another language besides English (we've gotten stared at a lot lately for speaking English or German or Spanish). And I'm not ashamed to be an American. There are plenty of good things about America, along with the plenty of bad politics that gets us reviled by the rest of the world. Sometimes I'm ashamed of other Americans, when they forget there's more to the world, but then again America is so big and contains so much that it's almost understandable that people get wrapped up in it and neglect to notice the other countries. America is a microcosm of the world in the big cities, and the influence of the hundred different cultures filters even into the smaller towns.

In conclusion, I'm going to miss my students a lot, and perhaps reading American Gods in French all week has gotten me thinking a bit too much.