It has now been two weeks since I took up residency in the new studio. Moving out was an adventure. There was one last battle with my former landlady. Voices were raised and a door was slammed. I ended up shaking with rage and temporarily storing all my luggage at a friend's house. Luckily, LP is a wonderful friend and was very understanding and helpful throughout the situation.
Moving into the studio was also an adventure. My predecessor had apparently let some fish go bad in the refrigerator and I've been waging an unsuccessful battle against the odor ever since. Internet-recommended remedies such as coffee grounds and baking soda have had little effect. I've eventually resorted to leaving the window open or to burning scented candles as often as possible.
I've also had some adventures with the fixtures. The hot water faucet came loose my first night in the apartment and flooded the bathroom. I had to completely shut off the water to the apartment so that I could screw it back in. (French vocabulary word of the week: revisser means to screw back in; however, unlike in English, the French term rarely justifies "that's what she said" jokes. It is for that reason I suggest appropriating it as soon as possible). From this point on, I've approached hot water with a good deal more reverence than I used to.
Still the freedom of having my own place is exhilarating. After six asphyxiating months in the last apartment, I feel like I can breathe again.
A week after moving in, my father came to visit! It was a brief visit- only 25 hours (it was supposed to be 27, but of course the SNCF wasn't going to stand for that!), but we had a wonderful time. We both had a great time walking around town. It was fun getting to rediscover the city. He loved the symmetry of the long avenues- we even went into the median in Avenue Foch so that we could stare through the triumphal arch at the equestrian statue of of Louis XIV and the monument crowning the aqueduct beyond. We ate well, drank well, and I was sorry he had to leave so soon.
At Paul Valéry, my students seem to have caught spring fever. Attendance levels were at something like fifty percent last week, and many of those who were there were even more unprepared than usual. I've begun teaching The Help, and an introduction to the history of Jim Crow laws in the South led to an interesting conversation with one student. He objected to my use of the term "African American" on grounds that the "African" was sort of a qualifier and that it suggested that black people were somehow less American. He asked where the term came from, and I only had some vague idea that it had to do with identity politics and the 1970s but couldn't give an exact answer. And he had a point: we don't go around referring to white people as "european americans." I know that America doesn't have the same sort of universalist conceptualization of citizenship as France, but still... I have no idea if black people in America ever find the term stupid or offensive. Food for thought.
The weather in Montpellier has been divine for the past few weeks. I had completely given up on my coat at one point. Then yesterday it began raining and sent everyone into a state of shock. The entire town suddenly assumed a certain gray haziness violently interrupted by the headlights of passing cars, like an impressionist painting of Paris. I know we have no grounds to complain, but I'm still looking forward to the good weather coming back. I've resumed my remedial reading program and would like to transfer my base of operation to the beach as soon as possible.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Found it!
Against all odds, I managed to get the studio I wanted! Today I signed the lease and paid the safety deposit and on the evening of February 28th I should have the key!
In the meantime, I'm enjoying my new students this semester. Two of the classes I teach are not with the Paul Valéry english department but with a prépa, a sort of prep school that high school graduates attend to prepare for competitive entrance exams to elite écoles--in my case for the école de journalisme or for the school of political science in Bordeaux. I've seen copies of the exam from previous years, and even for a native English-speaker, it's quite intimidating. I don't give the students grades, and the woman who normally teaches the class (currently on leave, doing research in the states) is still taking responsibility for the students' written work via e-mail. This reduces my job to bringing in articles and multi-media clips in every week for the class to discuss. And since the class is not for a grade, only the very motivated students show up. Many of them have very passionate opinions about current events and often all I have to do is moderate discussion between them. They're curious about what Americans think, about Tunisia, about Egypt, about US foreign policy. Some are ardent socialists, some are jaded realists; the level of participation and responsiveness is a breath of fresh air after a semester of being resolutely stonewalled by students who hadn't even bothered to read the assigned article before coming to class.
My two other classes are "langues, textes et discours" and the second semester non-specialist class. Langues, textes et discours is geared towards students specializing in langues étrangères appliquées: which differs from a traditional foreign language major (langues et cultures étrangères ou régionales) in that it requires students to specialize in two foreign languages and their curriculum focuses more on applied use of the language than on learning about the history, culture and literature associated with it. The specialization is very popular because it offers broader employment opportunities than its more traditional counterpart: many LEA students are aspiring businesspeople, not language enthusiasts per se. In my experience, they tend to be less motivated and less disciplined than their LCER peers. Teaching incoming LEA students last semester was a nightmare. This semester I'm dealing with second-year students, who are not exactly eager beavers, but still much more mature than many of my students from last semester. Thank the good Lord.
The class I'm teaching this semester is a sort of American literature class, but the focus is on popular literature, not the canon. Rather than assigning Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby or Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, our students are reading Doctorow's Ragtime and Stockett's The Help. The idea of assigning popular literature, especially in this context, is not without merit. However, I'm a little concerned about teaching The Help--I'm dead sure that the students will struggle with the challenge of reading in dialect, and I'm not at all sure of the wisdom assigning a book written in dialect to non-native speakers in the first place. Many students still struggle with standard English grammar, and finding a politically correct way of telling them never to imitate the language they see in the book is sure to be a delicate matter. My colleagues and I are already making lists of terms to explain to students ("Oh Law"= "Oh Lord;" "Gone"= "going to" etc.) In the meantime, my students who have bothered to read the text are still struggling through the interweaving plot lines in Ragtime.
And then there are my non-specialists. There's not much to say about them. The university requires all students not specializing in English to take this class. There are over fifty sections of it being offered, and students still often fail to register for the class because of scheduling problems. We are given workbooks, to which we are expected to adhere religiously. This I usually do, trying to muster as much enthusiasm for the material as I can: "Okay class! Now we're going to talk about identifying subject pronouns!!!" My students usually continue chatting amongst themselves or stare at me with glazed expressions.
All in all, I'm really pretty enamored with my teaching schedule this semester. I'm enjoying most of my classes, and I still have plenty of time to engage in leisure activities such as swimming or apartment-hunting.
In the meantime, I'm enjoying my new students this semester. Two of the classes I teach are not with the Paul Valéry english department but with a prépa, a sort of prep school that high school graduates attend to prepare for competitive entrance exams to elite écoles--in my case for the école de journalisme or for the school of political science in Bordeaux. I've seen copies of the exam from previous years, and even for a native English-speaker, it's quite intimidating. I don't give the students grades, and the woman who normally teaches the class (currently on leave, doing research in the states) is still taking responsibility for the students' written work via e-mail. This reduces my job to bringing in articles and multi-media clips in every week for the class to discuss. And since the class is not for a grade, only the very motivated students show up. Many of them have very passionate opinions about current events and often all I have to do is moderate discussion between them. They're curious about what Americans think, about Tunisia, about Egypt, about US foreign policy. Some are ardent socialists, some are jaded realists; the level of participation and responsiveness is a breath of fresh air after a semester of being resolutely stonewalled by students who hadn't even bothered to read the assigned article before coming to class.
My two other classes are "langues, textes et discours" and the second semester non-specialist class. Langues, textes et discours is geared towards students specializing in langues étrangères appliquées: which differs from a traditional foreign language major (langues et cultures étrangères ou régionales) in that it requires students to specialize in two foreign languages and their curriculum focuses more on applied use of the language than on learning about the history, culture and literature associated with it. The specialization is very popular because it offers broader employment opportunities than its more traditional counterpart: many LEA students are aspiring businesspeople, not language enthusiasts per se. In my experience, they tend to be less motivated and less disciplined than their LCER peers. Teaching incoming LEA students last semester was a nightmare. This semester I'm dealing with second-year students, who are not exactly eager beavers, but still much more mature than many of my students from last semester. Thank the good Lord.
The class I'm teaching this semester is a sort of American literature class, but the focus is on popular literature, not the canon. Rather than assigning Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby or Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, our students are reading Doctorow's Ragtime and Stockett's The Help. The idea of assigning popular literature, especially in this context, is not without merit. However, I'm a little concerned about teaching The Help--I'm dead sure that the students will struggle with the challenge of reading in dialect, and I'm not at all sure of the wisdom assigning a book written in dialect to non-native speakers in the first place. Many students still struggle with standard English grammar, and finding a politically correct way of telling them never to imitate the language they see in the book is sure to be a delicate matter. My colleagues and I are already making lists of terms to explain to students ("Oh Law"= "Oh Lord;" "Gone"= "going to" etc.) In the meantime, my students who have bothered to read the text are still struggling through the interweaving plot lines in Ragtime.
And then there are my non-specialists. There's not much to say about them. The university requires all students not specializing in English to take this class. There are over fifty sections of it being offered, and students still often fail to register for the class because of scheduling problems. We are given workbooks, to which we are expected to adhere religiously. This I usually do, trying to muster as much enthusiasm for the material as I can: "Okay class! Now we're going to talk about identifying subject pronouns!!!" My students usually continue chatting amongst themselves or stare at me with glazed expressions.
All in all, I'm really pretty enamored with my teaching schedule this semester. I'm enjoying most of my classes, and I still have plenty of time to engage in leisure activities such as swimming or apartment-hunting.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Hunt Is On!
After months of bemoaning certain aspects of my current living situation, things have finally come to a head with my landlady. As a result, I now need to find a new apartment by March 1st. This was my idea.
Today I visited three potential apartments. The first was a lovely apartment inhabited by a nice couple... in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps by American standards it wouldn't count as nowhere, but by pedestrian standards it is ridiculously far from anything worth walking to.
Next, I visited a studio near the train station. The area seemed pretty liveable, with easy access to groceries and laundromat. I like the studio, and the idea of having my own space seems increasingly appealing. Unfortunately, the landlady wants two months worth of a safety deposit. While I could make it work, putting down that much of a safety deposit makes me feel vulnerable ("You broke that coffee cup?! That coffee cup cost 600 euro!").
This evening, I visited an apartment near Place de l'Europe (in the modern part of Montpellier, not far from downtown) that belongs to a British woman who used to live there. She now rents the place to three men in their thirties. I met Martin, this evening. He's an oceanographer from Quebec, though he doesn't have a québecois accent, as far as I can tell. He seemed somewhat timid, and spoke as little as possible while showing me around the apartment. The place is obviously now a boy's apartment, though most of the furnishings belong to the landlady. They have a cleaning lady, so the place isn't disgusting, just rather untidy. Which isn't necessarily a problem. After my current living situation, a little bit of a mess might be refreshing. My other potential roommate, Ramon from Brazil, was not at home when I came to visit.
As of right now, I would prefer to live in the studio, though I still have reservations about the whole safety deposit issue. There also seem to be other people interested in the studio, so I might not have the opportunity to make a decision on that one anyway. My second pick would be the place near Place de l'Europe. As much as I liked the apartment and the couple at Saint-Cléophas, it's really just too far from everything.
I will try to keep everyone posted on the decision-making process, and try to do a better job of blogging this semester.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Things I've learned from 1 Semester of Teaching in France
1. The answer is "no." Regardless of what the question is.
2. If you expect your students to prepare 1 article (article = 1.5 pages) a week and participate in class, you are expecting waaaaaay too much of them.
3. Always have a contingency plan for getting to campus. The tram is not always where it says it will be when you need it.
4. The answer is still no. I mean it.
5. The French facial expressions for "I'm bored out of my mind" and "Help! I don't understand anything you're saying" are virtually indistinguishable to the naked American eye.
6. If a member of administrative personnel does not know the answer to a question, he or she will make something up rather than admit their ignorance. Consequently, you should take all advice from such people with a grain of salt.
7. The answer is an unequivocal no.
8. Your students do not care. Especially since the part of the class you teach them is worth only 20% of their final grade and all they want from the class is a 10/20.
9. You only need to know the names of your really good students and the really bad ones. Just let the others sleep; they aren't hurting anyone.
10. It does not matter what the university president says. If the student body has declared a strike, you will not be having class. Just stay home; that's what your students are doing.
11. Time off for strikes does not really count as vacation time (no class = no trains).
12. If your students insist on behaving like elementary school students, do not hesitate to treat them as such. Feel free to relocate students to separate them from their friends, publicly humiliate them by calling on them when they are obviously unprepared to answer, or ask them to leave class (closest available equivalent to sending someone to the principal's office). Even this embarrassingly hackneyed routine has been known to produce results:
Teacher: Good morning!
Lone student in the back of the class (groggily): Good morning.
Other 39 students continue chatting amongst themselves.
Teacher: Oh no, let's try that again! GOOD MORNING!
About 20 students: Good morning.
about 15 of the remaining students look up confusedly, which is still progress
Teacher: Good morning!
Lone student in the back of the class (groggily): Good morning.
Other 39 students continue chatting amongst themselves.
Teacher: Oh no, let's try that again! GOOD MORNING!
About 20 students: Good morning.
about 15 of the remaining students look up confusedly, which is still progress
13. When having a hard time communicating the concept of "no," give the student in question the "cow face" (which can also mean "I'm bored out of my mind" or "Help! I don't understand anything that you're saying") and shrug your shoulders. That should do the trick.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
To Barcelona and back!
As this past weekend was lengthened, not only by the striking, but by the Toussaint or All Saint's Day which is a national holiday in France, my friend and colleague LP and I decided to head south for four fabulous days in Barcelona.
We tried to be as thrifty as possible during the course of our trip. We travelled by bus, stayed in a hostel, and carried apples and granola bars in our backpacks. We got great value on the hostel, four nights for 130 euros total (65 apiece), breakfast & internet included. The hostel was located right next to a metro stop on Passeig de Gracia, so we had no problems getting around. The actual accommodations were a bit of an adventure: 14 people to a room, in our case 3 Americans, 1 Canadian, 1 woman from Singapore (later replaced by Mystery Guy about whom I never learned very much) and 9 very young and exuberant Australians. And of course, only one bathroom for the entire hall, so that could occasionally get crowded. But by hostel standards, it was very clean and we felt perfectly safe the entire time we were there.
As far as food is concerned, we were somewhat less successful in our thriftiness. The apples and granola bars were almost completely ignored for the duration of the trip. At several points, LP and I stopped at the first restaurant that seemed to have a reasonable menu, only to find out that the drinks were ridiculously overpriced or that the food was disgusting (or on one occasion, both). Our first night, we went out for a three-course meal which wound up being somewhat expensive by lectrice-standards, but that was intentional. We deserved it. We also got around to trying tapas, churros, and LP had some paëlla. I definitely had more than my usual share of fried food that weekend.
One aspect about the restaurants in Barcelona that caught me by surprise was how difficult it was to get the check at the end of the meal. The waiter would never bring the check unsolicited, and usually we would have to hunt him down in order to pay and leave the restaurant. We eventually concluded that it must be considered good etiquette there to leave the clients alone so that they can continue to sit and converse after the meal, but it took a little getting used to.
We also had to get used to the schedule in Spain. We already knew that lunch and dinner would be served later than in the US or even France. What really caught us by surprised was how late people stayed out. LP and I tried going out at about 11pm or so and the city was like a ghost town. Apparently the nightlife in Barcelona doesn't really get started until 2am, which is past my bedtime, even when I'm on vacation.
Our observations of Spanish/Catalonian culture were somewhat limited by the fact that we spent most of our time doing really tourist-y things, surrounded by swarms of other tourists. We saw the Sagrada Familia and the Parc Guëll, walked down La Rambla and saw the harbor and the beach. I took a tour of la Perdrera, a Gaudí building originally designed as an apartment building, which now houses municipal government agencies on the lower floors and a sort of miniature Gaudí museum in the upper floors. The rooftop terrace is supported by a series of unevenly sized arches in the attic, which makes it feel as if you are walking through a giant ribcage. I found out in that Gaudí studied the physical properties of natural structures, such as plants and animal skeletons, and incorporated them into his architecture. This was very early in my visit to Barcelona when I was still reading all the placards etc.
On our last day in Barcelona, we went to the Mercat de la Boqueria, a huge covered market filled with produce, butcher's stands, cheese & charcuterie, and prepared food as well. The sheer quantity of the food (and of the people) was overwhelming, but we managed to find some lunch and LP found some curry (apparently the stuff they sell in France is too weak to count as curry). We wound up having to rush back to the bus station, and we made it just in time.
Back in Montpellier, I think the strike is finally winding down. Today was supposed to be our first day of classes after the Toussaint. When I arrived on campus this morning, the barricades had been removed but the classrooms had all been locked by the administration to prevent the students from barricading them again. Sometimes I think that productivity in this country is the victim of some cruel, inter-organizational conspiracy. When I went to ask if my room could be unlocked so that I could teach my class, I was told that the rooms would remain shut until after the assemblée générale (student body meeting). By this point the administration had basically lost control of the entire campus. They had tried to address the assemblée générale last week about the strikes but were denied entry into the amphitheater. They responded by barricading themselves into Building C and only allowing authorized persons into the building. When they tried to leave for the day, several administrative employees were beaten up by student protesters and a secretary's purse was stolen. The administration then issued a statement condemning the strikes and forbidding the students from holding assemblées générales indoors. This apparently had no effect, as when my colleague AM and I went to see what was going on, the students were crammed like sardines into the amphitheater where they usually meet. I didn't stay for much of the meeting: people were yelling and smoking, and it was more or less impossible to breathe, let alone figure out what was going on.
Since I didn't have another class until 5 (it was a little past 2 and the meeting had been going on since 9:30), I decided to head home. When I arrived, AM texted me to let me know that the assemblée générale had voted to reopen the university. So I headed back to campus, to find the building where I was supposed to have class overrun with administrative employees, who were busy putting tables and chairs back where they belonged. I was, of course, happy to see something where it belonged after all these weeks, but somewhat perturbed by the lack of students. When the administrative employees finished returning the tables and chairs, they informed me that they were re-locking the building and that classes would resume tomorrow morning. Since I don't have class tomorrow, I guess this means that life will return to normal (well, normal for Paul Valéry anyway) on Monday. Knock on wood.
We tried to be as thrifty as possible during the course of our trip. We travelled by bus, stayed in a hostel, and carried apples and granola bars in our backpacks. We got great value on the hostel, four nights for 130 euros total (65 apiece), breakfast & internet included. The hostel was located right next to a metro stop on Passeig de Gracia, so we had no problems getting around. The actual accommodations were a bit of an adventure: 14 people to a room, in our case 3 Americans, 1 Canadian, 1 woman from Singapore (later replaced by Mystery Guy about whom I never learned very much) and 9 very young and exuberant Australians. And of course, only one bathroom for the entire hall, so that could occasionally get crowded. But by hostel standards, it was very clean and we felt perfectly safe the entire time we were there.
As far as food is concerned, we were somewhat less successful in our thriftiness. The apples and granola bars were almost completely ignored for the duration of the trip. At several points, LP and I stopped at the first restaurant that seemed to have a reasonable menu, only to find out that the drinks were ridiculously overpriced or that the food was disgusting (or on one occasion, both). Our first night, we went out for a three-course meal which wound up being somewhat expensive by lectrice-standards, but that was intentional. We deserved it. We also got around to trying tapas, churros, and LP had some paëlla. I definitely had more than my usual share of fried food that weekend.
One aspect about the restaurants in Barcelona that caught me by surprise was how difficult it was to get the check at the end of the meal. The waiter would never bring the check unsolicited, and usually we would have to hunt him down in order to pay and leave the restaurant. We eventually concluded that it must be considered good etiquette there to leave the clients alone so that they can continue to sit and converse after the meal, but it took a little getting used to.
We also had to get used to the schedule in Spain. We already knew that lunch and dinner would be served later than in the US or even France. What really caught us by surprised was how late people stayed out. LP and I tried going out at about 11pm or so and the city was like a ghost town. Apparently the nightlife in Barcelona doesn't really get started until 2am, which is past my bedtime, even when I'm on vacation.
Our observations of Spanish/Catalonian culture were somewhat limited by the fact that we spent most of our time doing really tourist-y things, surrounded by swarms of other tourists. We saw the Sagrada Familia and the Parc Guëll, walked down La Rambla and saw the harbor and the beach. I took a tour of la Perdrera, a Gaudí building originally designed as an apartment building, which now houses municipal government agencies on the lower floors and a sort of miniature Gaudí museum in the upper floors. The rooftop terrace is supported by a series of unevenly sized arches in the attic, which makes it feel as if you are walking through a giant ribcage. I found out in that Gaudí studied the physical properties of natural structures, such as plants and animal skeletons, and incorporated them into his architecture. This was very early in my visit to Barcelona when I was still reading all the placards etc.
On our last day in Barcelona, we went to the Mercat de la Boqueria, a huge covered market filled with produce, butcher's stands, cheese & charcuterie, and prepared food as well. The sheer quantity of the food (and of the people) was overwhelming, but we managed to find some lunch and LP found some curry (apparently the stuff they sell in France is too weak to count as curry). We wound up having to rush back to the bus station, and we made it just in time.
Back in Montpellier, I think the strike is finally winding down. Today was supposed to be our first day of classes after the Toussaint. When I arrived on campus this morning, the barricades had been removed but the classrooms had all been locked by the administration to prevent the students from barricading them again. Sometimes I think that productivity in this country is the victim of some cruel, inter-organizational conspiracy. When I went to ask if my room could be unlocked so that I could teach my class, I was told that the rooms would remain shut until after the assemblée générale (student body meeting). By this point the administration had basically lost control of the entire campus. They had tried to address the assemblée générale last week about the strikes but were denied entry into the amphitheater. They responded by barricading themselves into Building C and only allowing authorized persons into the building. When they tried to leave for the day, several administrative employees were beaten up by student protesters and a secretary's purse was stolen. The administration then issued a statement condemning the strikes and forbidding the students from holding assemblées générales indoors. This apparently had no effect, as when my colleague AM and I went to see what was going on, the students were crammed like sardines into the amphitheater where they usually meet. I didn't stay for much of the meeting: people were yelling and smoking, and it was more or less impossible to breathe, let alone figure out what was going on.
Since I didn't have another class until 5 (it was a little past 2 and the meeting had been going on since 9:30), I decided to head home. When I arrived, AM texted me to let me know that the assemblée générale had voted to reopen the university. So I headed back to campus, to find the building where I was supposed to have class overrun with administrative employees, who were busy putting tables and chairs back where they belonged. I was, of course, happy to see something where it belonged after all these weeks, but somewhat perturbed by the lack of students. When the administrative employees finished returning the tables and chairs, they informed me that they were re-locking the building and that classes would resume tomorrow morning. Since I don't have class tomorrow, I guess this means that life will return to normal (well, normal for Paul Valéry anyway) on Monday. Knock on wood.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Strike One!
At the time of my last blog, the protests against Sarkozy's proposed reforms to the French retirement system were fairly moderate. A lot can happen in a month. The oil refineries have been on strike for several weeks now, though the government has forced some of them to re-open. This weekend, I spent a lot of time with friends driving around in search of gas stations that still have gas.
The high schoolers went on strike over a week ago, which has caused all sorts of adventures. A large herd of them are generally congregated in front of the high school right by the tramway on my way to the fac. Meaning that the students are milling around on the tramlines. I've heard from some people that they've taken to lying down in front of the trams to slow circulation on occasion, and I've seen them lighting small fires. But mostly they just get in everyone's way.
Last week, Paul Valéry, the school where I work, had to be closed for security reasons. I had grown accustomed to the presence of grèvistes trying to get the students involved in the strike. Over recent weeks, their presence has gradually grown more intense. By last Monday, they were blocking the coffee machines, so that no one could get coffee without undergoing their efforts to bring you over to the cause. That evening when I went to teach my class the building had been locked, and since it was already quarter to six, there was no one to let me back in, so I was forced to teach outside. The next morning, when I showed up to teach my 8:15 class, protesters were already at work barricading all the classrooms and locking all the windows from the inside to make sure no one could have class. One of my colleagues was in our office checking her e-mail at the time, and she actually found herself barricaded in the building and it took her awhile to escape. The really frustrating part about this was that many of the people barricading the campus were not actually students. The students had planned to have a vote later that day on whether or not the school should go on strike, and the outside protesters had apparently decided to jump the gun and force the school to close, which I found very undemocratic. When I arrived, one of the students asked the protesters why they were blocking the school when it was obvious that people were there and wanted to have class, he started yelling at her, saying that college students were stupid and that they would wind up with nothing if they didn't join the struggle or something like that.
At this point, it had become clear that we were not going to be able to have class. I gave my students their test papers from the week before, and headed back into town. By bicycle of course, since I no longer trust the trams to run on time thanks to the aforementioned high school students setting fires on the tramlines. Later that evening (about midnight actually), we learned that the administration had not been successful in getting the protesters to vacate the campus and had been forced to call the police to evacuate the campus, which the administration then closed for security reasons. So I basically had last week off, and classes should resume tomorrow.
This weekend, I tried traveling in strike conditions. I did actually manage to get to where I was going and back, but due to some train cancellations I did have to make some minor itinerary changes, and did not always have a seat in the train. On Friday, my layover in Lyon (I was on my way to St. Etienne to see some old friends) was extended by several hours, which turned out not to be a bad thing, since the train station is reasonably close to the old scenic part of town, so I had an opportunity to walk around. I was a little nervous at first because the day before there had been some violent protests and vandalism in Lyon, but that day everything seemed perfectly serene. I had a wonderful sunlit walk across the peninsula in the middle of the city, had lunch at a café. I've eaten boudin now! I had no idea what it was when I ordered it, or when I ate it for that matter. It turns out to be made of pig blood and fat, but it actually tastes really good.
The return voyage was a little less smooth. I missed the first train (or maybe it was cancelled. I'm pretty sure one of my trains was cancelled), and wound up having to call my friend who had just dropped me off at the train station in St Etienne so that she could drive me to Lyon (about an hour away). Once I got to Lyon I had to find another train to board, and, once again, I wound up riding a different train with the same ticket and no seat. I eventually found a quiet corner of the restaurant car to hang out in. Still, I made it halfway across the country and back and had a wonderful weekend with old friends, so take that, strikers!
Whenever I get frustrated with the strikes, I remind myself that I could be in Marseille, where the garbage collectors have been on strike for more then a month. That has a way of putting things in perspective.
The high schoolers went on strike over a week ago, which has caused all sorts of adventures. A large herd of them are generally congregated in front of the high school right by the tramway on my way to the fac. Meaning that the students are milling around on the tramlines. I've heard from some people that they've taken to lying down in front of the trams to slow circulation on occasion, and I've seen them lighting small fires. But mostly they just get in everyone's way.
Last week, Paul Valéry, the school where I work, had to be closed for security reasons. I had grown accustomed to the presence of grèvistes trying to get the students involved in the strike. Over recent weeks, their presence has gradually grown more intense. By last Monday, they were blocking the coffee machines, so that no one could get coffee without undergoing their efforts to bring you over to the cause. That evening when I went to teach my class the building had been locked, and since it was already quarter to six, there was no one to let me back in, so I was forced to teach outside. The next morning, when I showed up to teach my 8:15 class, protesters were already at work barricading all the classrooms and locking all the windows from the inside to make sure no one could have class. One of my colleagues was in our office checking her e-mail at the time, and she actually found herself barricaded in the building and it took her awhile to escape. The really frustrating part about this was that many of the people barricading the campus were not actually students. The students had planned to have a vote later that day on whether or not the school should go on strike, and the outside protesters had apparently decided to jump the gun and force the school to close, which I found very undemocratic. When I arrived, one of the students asked the protesters why they were blocking the school when it was obvious that people were there and wanted to have class, he started yelling at her, saying that college students were stupid and that they would wind up with nothing if they didn't join the struggle or something like that.
At this point, it had become clear that we were not going to be able to have class. I gave my students their test papers from the week before, and headed back into town. By bicycle of course, since I no longer trust the trams to run on time thanks to the aforementioned high school students setting fires on the tramlines. Later that evening (about midnight actually), we learned that the administration had not been successful in getting the protesters to vacate the campus and had been forced to call the police to evacuate the campus, which the administration then closed for security reasons. So I basically had last week off, and classes should resume tomorrow.
This weekend, I tried traveling in strike conditions. I did actually manage to get to where I was going and back, but due to some train cancellations I did have to make some minor itinerary changes, and did not always have a seat in the train. On Friday, my layover in Lyon (I was on my way to St. Etienne to see some old friends) was extended by several hours, which turned out not to be a bad thing, since the train station is reasonably close to the old scenic part of town, so I had an opportunity to walk around. I was a little nervous at first because the day before there had been some violent protests and vandalism in Lyon, but that day everything seemed perfectly serene. I had a wonderful sunlit walk across the peninsula in the middle of the city, had lunch at a café. I've eaten boudin now! I had no idea what it was when I ordered it, or when I ate it for that matter. It turns out to be made of pig blood and fat, but it actually tastes really good.
The return voyage was a little less smooth. I missed the first train (or maybe it was cancelled. I'm pretty sure one of my trains was cancelled), and wound up having to call my friend who had just dropped me off at the train station in St Etienne so that she could drive me to Lyon (about an hour away). Once I got to Lyon I had to find another train to board, and, once again, I wound up riding a different train with the same ticket and no seat. I eventually found a quiet corner of the restaurant car to hang out in. Still, I made it halfway across the country and back and had a wonderful weekend with old friends, so take that, strikers!
Whenever I get frustrated with the strikes, I remind myself that I could be in Marseille, where the garbage collectors have been on strike for more then a month. That has a way of putting things in perspective.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Au travail! (If you can figure out where...)
Life has suddenly become much busier in the past week. Classes have finally started. Luckily the language classes for the non-specialists don't begin until October, so we've had a chance to ease into our schedules. So far, teaching here requires much more initiative and flexibility than teaching at UNC. We were only given very general guidelines from our course coordinators. The more organized of them have provided us with course packets including the documents they want us to study, but most instructors have simply given us a general idea of the focus of the course and how many tests they expect us to give during the semester. One course coordinator I only met with briefly, the evening before giving the class for which she was responsible. Yesterday morning, I showed up for my 8:15 class and was surprised to see one of my fellow lectrices: apparently both our classes had accidentally been assigned to the same room. I had to go look for an empty room, while AM (the other lectrice) explained the situation. Unfortunately, the enrollment system here is quite confusing, so many of our students didn't know which of the two classes they meant to attend, so for the first half of class students were going and coming between the two groups. AM and I found out later, that were it not for a simple typo, my class would have been scheduled for the adjacent room.
With regards to the administration, the good news is that I am no longer an un(der)documented worker, and I'll hopefully get paid very soon! The Direction du Travail came through with my work permit, which seemed to satisfy the woman in the administrative building responsible for my file. While I was in her office, she also asked me to re-sign several documents from my folder which she had somehow lost. I've noticed that people in the administration here will make up answers to questions rather than admit that they don't know something. As a result, I've already gone to the préfecture unnecessarily and sent e-mails to several people concerning matters over which they have no control. Though I've obtained an autorisation de travail and a mailbox, I have yet to get a university e-mail account, without which I can't get a university library card or access my class rosters online. Thus, my primary attendance-taking method so far consists of passing around a sheet of paper for students to write their names on.
So far my first-year classes have been large and unruly. I've generally had a little over 30 students in each class, about 5-10 of which I've gotten to talk. Some of them seem very engaged, and most of them have fairly good English, although they often seem to lack confidence in that. Every now and then I have a hard time understanding students because of their accents. In one class I asked them all to say one thing they thought of when it came to American politics or identity, and I have several Obama fans, one Tea Party hater, and many students who know that we have two main political parties.
I feel utterly unqualified to teach some of the classes. In my first history class, we were supposed to be looking at the Mayflower compact. After a brief discussion in which I told them all that I knew about the Mayflower compact (I know about two minutes worth of class time about the Mayflower compact), we all read the document... and I let them go early. I guess it's helpful to have an American teaching this section, because I was able to tell them that it is a very cherished part of our national identity/mythology and that we all have to learn about it as children. Many of the students were taken aback by the religiousity of the text and didn't realize that the articulation of the social contract is what the document is best remembered for.
Today, I taught my third year US Civ class (US history 1945-present), and was surprised to find that I have two American and three British students. It was nice having the Americans because they are more accustomed to the discussion-based classroom model. They made several good contributions to the conversation while the French students dutifully wrote down everything I said, even though I had already pointed out that I was not a historian, and it should have only taken a few minutes to realize that I wasn't an expert on what we were talking about anyway (We ended up having to look up the date of Hawaii's statehood on someone's Iphone). On the downside, I'm afraid having so many native speakers in the class might intimidate the French students, who (as I mentioned before) are not always confident about their mastery of the English language.
Today also marks the second grève nationale (national strike) since my arrival in Montpellier, and the first on which I've actually had to teach. The trams were almost completely stopped this morning. Fortunately, Montpellier also has a bike rental program, and today was a better day than most for a bike ride, since the now unoccupied tramways made for a luxuriously wide bike path. I had expected to teach to a largely empty classroom, but nearly all my students came and we had a fairly lively class period. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised to find the campus barricaded and surrounded by protesters. All the signs have been there: people handing out incendiary flyers, an assemblée générale (student body meeting) regarding the strike, and even people walking around yelling into microphones trying to mobilize the students. When I arrived at campus, it was eerily quiet except for the blood mobile parked out front (weird timing, I know), and many of the classrooms seemed deserted. Still, against all odds, near perfect attendance. Most students were on time and everything, tram delays be damned. I was impressed and felt a little guilty for not having a more informative lesson for them.
I've been getting to know the other lectrices a lot better. We've been spending a good deal of time class planning, going out for drinks (often simultaneously), eating cheese, finding work permits, going to the beach and baring our souls the way only fellow expats can. I had a wonderful birthday on Sunday which began with a trip to the beach with LP (one of my fellow lectrices) where we spent so much time lying in the sun that we spent the trip home lulling in a deep and stupid feeling of contentment. We finished off the adventure with a predictably satisfying kebab and that evening I went out for drinks with AM and EB in the historic center of town. On Tuesday, I met AM for the pop-quiz (sort of trivia night) that her boyfriend is obsessed with, at the Shakespeare, a bar that generally caters to anglophones (although there were many French people and people of other nationalities). Our team was comprised mostly of French people, with the exception of AM, EB, myself and a German girl. It was a lot of fun, and I'll probably be back.
I also started choir on Monday. Rehearsals are a bit late (8:30-11 every Monday) and way out at the end of the tramline, but I also think it will be a great experience. We'll be singing a Mozart mass later this fall and the choir seems to have a pretty good sound. There aren't a lot of young people in the choir, but there do seem to be a lot of friendly people and that is always exciting.
This weekend will probably be spent trying to create some semblance of organization for my classes and trying to reacquire some knowledge of American history (I'm supposed to be teaching my third years about the Truman doctrine next week. Yikes!) I'll also try to make it out to the beach and/or another city in the region with some of the other lectrices. Hopefully, there will be something memorable to report by Monday.
With regards to the administration, the good news is that I am no longer an un(der)documented worker, and I'll hopefully get paid very soon! The Direction du Travail came through with my work permit, which seemed to satisfy the woman in the administrative building responsible for my file. While I was in her office, she also asked me to re-sign several documents from my folder which she had somehow lost. I've noticed that people in the administration here will make up answers to questions rather than admit that they don't know something. As a result, I've already gone to the préfecture unnecessarily and sent e-mails to several people concerning matters over which they have no control. Though I've obtained an autorisation de travail and a mailbox, I have yet to get a university e-mail account, without which I can't get a university library card or access my class rosters online. Thus, my primary attendance-taking method so far consists of passing around a sheet of paper for students to write their names on.
So far my first-year classes have been large and unruly. I've generally had a little over 30 students in each class, about 5-10 of which I've gotten to talk. Some of them seem very engaged, and most of them have fairly good English, although they often seem to lack confidence in that. Every now and then I have a hard time understanding students because of their accents. In one class I asked them all to say one thing they thought of when it came to American politics or identity, and I have several Obama fans, one Tea Party hater, and many students who know that we have two main political parties.
I feel utterly unqualified to teach some of the classes. In my first history class, we were supposed to be looking at the Mayflower compact. After a brief discussion in which I told them all that I knew about the Mayflower compact (I know about two minutes worth of class time about the Mayflower compact), we all read the document... and I let them go early. I guess it's helpful to have an American teaching this section, because I was able to tell them that it is a very cherished part of our national identity/mythology and that we all have to learn about it as children. Many of the students were taken aback by the religiousity of the text and didn't realize that the articulation of the social contract is what the document is best remembered for.
Today, I taught my third year US Civ class (US history 1945-present), and was surprised to find that I have two American and three British students. It was nice having the Americans because they are more accustomed to the discussion-based classroom model. They made several good contributions to the conversation while the French students dutifully wrote down everything I said, even though I had already pointed out that I was not a historian, and it should have only taken a few minutes to realize that I wasn't an expert on what we were talking about anyway (We ended up having to look up the date of Hawaii's statehood on someone's Iphone). On the downside, I'm afraid having so many native speakers in the class might intimidate the French students, who (as I mentioned before) are not always confident about their mastery of the English language.
Today also marks the second grève nationale (national strike) since my arrival in Montpellier, and the first on which I've actually had to teach. The trams were almost completely stopped this morning. Fortunately, Montpellier also has a bike rental program, and today was a better day than most for a bike ride, since the now unoccupied tramways made for a luxuriously wide bike path. I had expected to teach to a largely empty classroom, but nearly all my students came and we had a fairly lively class period. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised to find the campus barricaded and surrounded by protesters. All the signs have been there: people handing out incendiary flyers, an assemblée générale (student body meeting) regarding the strike, and even people walking around yelling into microphones trying to mobilize the students. When I arrived at campus, it was eerily quiet except for the blood mobile parked out front (weird timing, I know), and many of the classrooms seemed deserted. Still, against all odds, near perfect attendance. Most students were on time and everything, tram delays be damned. I was impressed and felt a little guilty for not having a more informative lesson for them.
I've been getting to know the other lectrices a lot better. We've been spending a good deal of time class planning, going out for drinks (often simultaneously), eating cheese, finding work permits, going to the beach and baring our souls the way only fellow expats can. I had a wonderful birthday on Sunday which began with a trip to the beach with LP (one of my fellow lectrices) where we spent so much time lying in the sun that we spent the trip home lulling in a deep and stupid feeling of contentment. We finished off the adventure with a predictably satisfying kebab and that evening I went out for drinks with AM and EB in the historic center of town. On Tuesday, I met AM for the pop-quiz (sort of trivia night) that her boyfriend is obsessed with, at the Shakespeare, a bar that generally caters to anglophones (although there were many French people and people of other nationalities). Our team was comprised mostly of French people, with the exception of AM, EB, myself and a German girl. It was a lot of fun, and I'll probably be back.
I also started choir on Monday. Rehearsals are a bit late (8:30-11 every Monday) and way out at the end of the tramline, but I also think it will be a great experience. We'll be singing a Mozart mass later this fall and the choir seems to have a pretty good sound. There aren't a lot of young people in the choir, but there do seem to be a lot of friendly people and that is always exciting.
This weekend will probably be spent trying to create some semblance of organization for my classes and trying to reacquire some knowledge of American history (I'm supposed to be teaching my third years about the Truman doctrine next week. Yikes!) I'll also try to make it out to the beach and/or another city in the region with some of the other lectrices. Hopefully, there will be something memorable to report by Monday.
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