So sorry it’s been so long between posts – good thing I’m not doing this as a job, otherwise I would have been fired by now. Speaking of fired, I am having to give us my esl job due to a work permit issue. I guess it’s not really an issue with my work permit, it’s more like an issue that I don’t have a work permit and it turns out, I can’t get one. Ooops. I guess that was a minor detail that I should have researched more thoroughly before I took the job.
In the end, all I can really say about the job is “THANK GOD IT’S NEARLY OVER!!!!” These French kids are killing me. They’re so cute and so well dressed, but they have a distinct advantage over me which is that they can all speak whispery French to each other. The class is a little bit Lord of the Flies at times and I happen to be playing the role of the kid who gets eaten.
For those of you who haven’t thanked a teacher in recent days, you may want to take this opportunity to reach out and give them a big holiday squeeze. They have the hardest job on the planet. I am not even remotely kidding.
Also, I deleted my Larry Bird rant post. Sorry about that. I just figured that it wasn’t in the spirit of the blog and I had to let my anger go (but I still love you Larry Bird). I’ve decided to divert my anger into contemplation about what to do if the euro crashes. Luckily for me, my friend Tami left us some old French francs when she was here this summer, so we may be able to keep ourselves stocked with wine and bread for a day or two while the important people are getting things sorted out.
Besides the impending economic crash, the other big news for us is that the kids’ tutor Dominique is leaving for greener pastures (as in the south of France). Coming here and finding Dominique was one of the luckiest things that has happened to us – she was a huge help with the boys’ French and my mental health. Plus, every week, not only did she teach them French, she made every type of traditional French food with them. That’s my kind of tutor. I guess if we want homemade French macarons, we’re going to have to learn to make them ourselves. Or not.
It’s been hard to say good-bye to her, but we’re fully intending to visit her down there before we leave France for good. It’s nice to have friends in warm French climates. It’s even better to have friends in warm French climates who make incredible macarons.
Here is Owen’s card to Dominique:
The good news is that the kids don’t really need Dominique as a tutor anymore. It’s hard to believe, but they are speaking French without hesitation and they have moved on to the “Making Fun of Mommy’s French” phase of their language study. It kind of hurts, but their French is much better than mine right now. I know this is just one of the many times my kids will be better than me, but I was hoping to have a few more years of feeling superior before my credibility hit the fan. According to my in-house French language critics, it turns out that not only am I saying the incorrect words in conversation on a regular basis, but the words that I do say correctly are slightly out of tune to discerning French ears.
Further evidence that their French is better than mine is that they were recently dismissed from their “Extra French” class at school. Apparently they no longer need help with French and they can get through the school day without any fear, tears or drama. Which is not exactly something I can always say for myself. Going to the market and buying fruit still makes me sweat. I’m not going to lie.