Feelin’ Like a Grown-Up

Wednesday, September 26

Today was certainly memorable. It didn’t necessarily start out that way, but after my grand IKEA adventure and a weird business meeting / alumna reunion at the foyer (residence hall), I’ve gotta say that today’s been one of my faves so far.

Can you spot the French flag?

Wasn’t feeling so so hot this am, but I finally got up around 11 because I didn’t want to be eating breakfast (petit déjeuner) while the other girls were eating lunch (déjeuner). First I got on my computer, though, because I remembered that there was an email I was supposed to respond to by the 26^th, and I ended up staying on to plan out my route to IKEA because the Internet connection was really good. (Someone explained to me later in the evening that the connection fades on the upper floors of the building as more and more girls come home from work and try to log on. So I guess that’s why I haven’t had trouble using it during the day while I’ve been sitting at home unemployed!) Eventually I ate close to noon. Went a little too heavy on the cooking oil in an attempt to avoid getting eggs stuck on the bottom of the communal pan that I was using. I didn’t see cooking spray (like Pam) at the grocery store closest to where I live, but I’ll have to keep looking because I strongly prefer it.

Since no one else was in the kitchen at the time, I picked up a coffee table copy of Pariscope, which I recognized as a guide to the city’s arts scene thanks to the French in Action curriculum that we followed in junior high. It was weird because Pariscope had been, like, a vocab word or something, and now here I was actually looking at one in real life! There was a wide variety of listings from plays that I had never heard of to ones that brought back more junior high memories, such as Des Fleurs pour Algernon (Flowers for Algernon). I also thought it was interesting to see some overlap between French and American movie theater listings, though with some differences in schedules. For example, The Artist, Magic Mike, and Premium Rush were all showing at the same time in various locales. (Oh, and in case I forget to tell you later, I saw an ad on the back of a bus for “The Incredible Kardashian Family.” That’s what the show is called here. “Incredible,” as in hard-to-believe. Yay for representations of America abroad.) Two other girls came in towards the end of my meal. I asked them how trash duty usually works in the kitchen since it was my day to partner with someone else for that assignment. Apparently the trash has to go out every day for “reasons of hygiene.” They were like, “It’s not full. Just keep pushing it down until the end of the night.” (Don’t worry, Mom. I took it out later.)

So, armed with directions and visions of warmer bedding dancing in my head, I walked to Gare du Nord to take the RER B commuter train outside of the city of Paris proper for the first time. Once I got to where I needed to be within the bustling station, I read the screens for the various trains that were approaching the platform until I saw one that was stopping at Parc des Expositions, which was my destination. I was so thankful that IKEA was at this stop and not any further out towards the airport, because I had validated my passe Navigo for zones 1-4, not zone 5, before looking into the location of the store, and « Parc des Expos » was the last stop in zone 4. On the train, I half-read Ventre de Paris – a gift from one of my elementary school French teachers – and half-looked out the window because I was not in a window seat and didn’t want to look like the novice train rider that I was. I couldn’t help looking, though, when we passed through Aulnay-sous-Bois, which is the suburb of Paris where I’ll be teaching. All I could see were houses all around the station. That and graffiti, but that didn’t surprise me given that it was a public transit area.

When I got off the train a little while later, I looked for the stops that corresponded to buses 640 or 23 since that’s how the IKEA Paris Nord 2 website suggested that non-drivers get there. Turns out e’rybody and they brother was doing the same thing! (And yes, I intentionally used incorrect grammar there. It’s called humor, folks.) There was a crowd clustered around the 640 stop, and those who were not self-confident (or foolhardy) enough to go with their own directions were asking: « Excusez-moi, Madame. Est-ce que ce bus va à EE-kay-UH? » (“Excuse me, ma’am. Does this bus go to IKEA?” But I gave you the “French” pronunciation of the store the first time: emphasis on the first and third syllables.) The bus driver told us all when to get off anyway because most of us onboard were trying to get to the same place and would’ve gotten off one stop too early if he hadn’t told us to hold our horses.

My stuff survived the rain! And didn't break!

At some point, I realized that I should buy some “real” dishes as opposed to the plastic plates/bowls/silverware/cup (singular) that I had brought from home and that I might as well do it while I was at IKEA. I was a little worried about breaking stuff on my way home, but I really didn’t want to make another trip out. So I took notes on some of the basic place settings as I walked through the showrooms. They didn’t have my « couette » (white, inner comforter padding/filling) or « housse de couette » (decorative, slip-on comforter cover) on display upstairs, so I had to wait until I got to the stockroom downstairs to do all of my real shopping. I found a super-inexpensive plate, bowl, glass, and small set of silverware plus a 1-centime (cent) cardboard contraption designed to carry dishes home in (as if they were drinks from a take-out restaurant). I also picked up a Tupperware-like container and a set of two brushes for washing dishes for “a little nothing.” I was going to see more things that I “needed” if I stayed in the kitchen section – which is the first area that you come into upon entering the stockroom – so I quickly ran to the bedding area since that was what I was there for.

Before (Blankets)

Unfortunately, they were sold out of the particular « couette » that I had selected on the website, even though it had indicated only 3 or 4 hours earlier that this store had “very good availability” of this item. They lied! Either that or everyone else who had come through the store that day had wanted the same thing…. In any event, I wasn’t leaving empty-handed in terms of a reasonably-priced comforter, so I went down one warmness setting from super-warm to average warmth in terms of thickness. I figured that I do have a heater in my room, and it’s gotta do something, right? Plus I’ll still have both blankets should I ever need them. And, as I said, when the salesman said they didn’t have any more of the one I wanted, I was ready for Plan B as opposed to Plan Nothing. They did have my €5.99 comforter cover, though, so I was happy to take advantage of that sale price. All in all, even with the medium-sized, reusable IKEA bag that I purchased, the total came to around €34. I should take that receipt to the fancy bedding boutique near me where the guy tried to sell me a comforter (padding + cover) for over €200 and invite him to dine on my set of dishes that is included in that price ;)

After (Comforter)

The train was crowded on the way home, and it was raining by the time I got back to Gare du Nord, which was slightly sad. But my evening still ended up being happy because I went out downstairs to the common room for the « Assemblée Générale »  that had been advertised on our kitchen whiteboard – which I assumed to be a required gathering of all the residents – and found a bunch of older ladies hanging out. I probably had a really confused look on my face, but they directed me to sign in and started asking me where I was from and how I was enjoying my time in the residence hall. Pretty soon some people at the front of the room called the “meeting” to order, and I found a seat with a few other residents along the side of the room near the fireplace. It turns out that these were the “stakeholders,” I guess would be the term, of the residence hall, and this was one of their business meetings to discuss the budget and the general state of affairs of the place where I just started living. I was glad that I was able to follow what was going on for the most part and laugh at most of the jokes. They asked for comments from current residents at one point, and I thought about trying to come up with something nice to say about my first week since everyone was looking at the 6 or 8 of us expectantly, but a couple of other girls piped up and represented us well.

Afterwards, I thought about going upstairs because I was starting to sneeze a little bit, which meant that my cold medicine was wearing off, but one of the staff members said I “had” to stay and socialize. Most of the women there were alumna of the foyer, ranging in age from 27 (you have to move out at 26, I think) to probably 80 or 90. There was one man there who was the treasurer of the group, and he had been to Georgia before…that city on the coast? Yes, Savannah! Another person thought of Coca-Cola when I introduced myself and yet another brought up memories of my time in Paris in 2006 when she connected my place of origin with Gone with the Wind. (When I came here in high school and kept evoking that same response every time I introduced myself, I ended up writing a rap in French to “update” people on modern-day Georgia because I had never even seen this movie all the way through, and still have not to this day, but I knew that I didn’t want anyone thinking that I or my mother wore an apron and worked in somebody else’s house. Of course, I’m more than grateful for all of my ancestors who came before me and paved the way for me to lead the life of freedom that I do today, but Gone with the Wind is not my Georgia.) Anyway, I got a lot of compliments on my French and a lot of advice about what to do while I’m in France, including very specific tips from a resident from a different floor (ooh! ahh!) who worked as a French teaching assistant in Belfast, Ireland last year. One of my hallmates made fun of me when she saw that I was still hanging out hours after I’d said I was going upstairs, but I told her it was worth it :)

Thursday, September 27

So I’ve been journaling every night for quite some time now, and I usually put the date and my location at the top of the page. It’s kind of upsetting how normal it’s becoming for me to write “Paris, France” up there after only being here for a little over a week. It’s like I just accepted this crazy reality so easily as a recorded message that I repeated to people who asked me what my next step was: “I’m going to France to teach English for a year.” And now I’m here, and I’m like, What? I’m where? To teach who[m], what? For how long? And they’re paying me? And I’m completely and totally responsible for my own life?!?! This is unreal.

So anyway, my goals for today were to obtain a phone as well as some leggings and/or tights to wear with my dresses for work, which officially starts next week. Well, before I set off to do those things, I actually did laundry. I know I haven’t been here long, but I wanted to go ahead and wash my dirty stuff now so that I don’t run out of clothes in the middle of my hectic first week of work. (By the way, when I’m planning ahead to see when I need to do laundry, I always see which type of clothing I’ll run out of first – usually socks – and refer to that as the “limiting reactant” in my head. Isn’t that weird? I took waaaaay too much Chemistry in college to have come out with degrees in French and African American Studies….) The washing machine for our residence – that’s right, singular, one, for like 90 rooms – is actually right next door to my room. Thankfully, there’s a sign-up system that only allows clothes to be washed between 9:30 am and 9:30 pm or else the electricity for the machine cuts off. I had signed up for the 10:15 slot in advance thinking that I could just roll out of bed and throw my stuff in, but I totally forgot about the need for (drum roll, please)…DETERGENT! So I had to throw on some clothes, go to the store a couple of doors down, and try to decipher labels to decide which one would not be too harsh on my somewhat-sensitive skin. I selected one that had a “dermo-tested” label. Hopefully I chose well, although that remains to be seen. I was a few minutes late getting my €3 load in, but there was no one signed up after me, so it didn’t seem to be a problem. Most residents were at work anyway!

Complicated hook-pulley system

Simple drying rack

I ate breakfast with two hallmates, one of whom tried to talk me into joining her gospel choir because of the interest that I expressed in the Deitrick Haddon flyer on the whiteboard. It turns out that the person who put that up had no idea that he was a famous singer; she just received the handbill on the subway and thought she would display it in case anyone else was interested. I had to tell everyone that he is legit, not just some random wannabe gospel singer. So the girl at breakfast said she’s in a choir that sings in English, but they don’t have handouts with the lyrics because the director just wants them to hear the words and sing what they hear like people did during slavery. She demonstrated how this might not always result in comprehension by the singers, but the listeners hear the right sounds. It was interesting. She asked if I’d ever sung before, and I tried to say that I’d done musical theatre, but that out of the three requisite skills (dancing, acting, singing), singing was the least of my strengths. She asked if my musical theatre experience was similar to that depicted in the show Glee! Like Gone with the Wind, this is another American classic (wink) to which I’ve never actually given my full attention, but I told her that I didn’t think it was a perfect representation of what I did and excused myself to hang my clothes on the various drying mechanisms provided in the laundry room, including one that required the use of a complicated hook-and-pulley system that the gospel choir hallmate told me not even to bother dealing with. Of course, this was like a challenge to me, so I was happy when I figured out how to use it. I was a little skeptical about just how dry my clothes were going to get in the absence of a machine, but I decided to give this technique a whirl.

Later, it only took me 27 minutes to obtain a phone on my own for the first time. I had kind of looked into things on my own in the store, online, and through the bank’s special offer, but this was the first time that I actually spoke with a clerk in the store. The Go Phone that my family has used for various purposes was not unlocked for use with a French SIM card, so I ended up getting a new basic phone over here but not subscribing to a monthly plan. Instead, I’m doing a pay-as-you-go system where you buy a certain number of minutes as you need them by obtaining cards (mobicartes) from corner stores (tabacs) or phone stores. That was the best option that the clerk and I could come up with given the amount of time that I’m here and what I want to use my phone for. So yeah, I felt pretty cool handling that on my own. And now I’ve got a new set of digits. I’ll have to break the news to my banker, who still wants me to buy a smartphone and sign up for a 12 or 24-month plan through their partnership….

Oh, and if you’re wondering about the leggings, I got them from the grocery store. I thought about going shopping for real, but I was too tired. Plus I took some cold medicine so I’d be ready for my big début on Friday.

Friday, September 28

Me tryna look fancy

Gare du Nord (taken in afternoon)

If I didn’t know what I was getting myself into before, today was the day when it hit home. I got up around 6:45 am and got dressed in my teacher clothes to travel to Aulnay-sous-Bois for a 9:30 meeting with the secretary of the Proviseur, which I think is equivalent to the Principal of the high school where I will be working as an English teaching assistant. My plan was to leave at 8 am to allow plenty of room for error with all segments of my trip: walking from the residence hall to Gare du Nord; RER B train from Gare du Nord to Aulnay; bus from Aulnay train station to school. I basically knew how to do the first two parts, but I had only seen info about the bus online, not in real life. I left a little later than 8, naturally, but that’s why I allowed extra time. As I was approaching the train platform at Gare du Nord, the 8:35 train pulled up. I thought it might get me there a little too early and debated about getting on, but decided I might as well. I was at the Aulnay-sous-Bois stop a little before 9:00. I knew that I could take bus 605 or 615, and I happened to exit the station right in front of the 605 stop, so I stayed there. The sign said the bus was coming at 9:05, and most of the other people at the stop seemed like high school students. I boarded last and asked the driver to let me know when we reached Lycée Jean Zay, if he didn’t mind. However, as I said, it wasn’t hard to tell because so many of the other riders were getting off there and the school was pretty prominent.

The security checkpoint (right) as seen from inside

I made sure that I walked behind the group so that I didn’t look too much like a student. And, like I said earlier, I had dressed up in order to look like a teacher. (It turned out that a lot of them were dressed down, though, since it was Friday, perhaps.) As I approached the entry gate of the school, I saw a man seated in what appeared to be a security guardhouse about 10 yards away, so I started to get my little notes out to tell him what I was there for. But before I could reach him, I heard a voice from my right saying, “Your ID please, young lady!” In French, of course. I turned and noticed, for the first time, a female security officer standing just inside the entry gate and watching as students quickly flashed ID cards towards her. I explained that I had an appointment, to which she exclaimed, “Oh! You’re new.” Then she told me which way to go from there.

As I entered the administrative secretary’s office at around 9:20 (good thing I took that train!), I awkwardly noticed that I had her name spelled wrong on my little slip of paper, probably because the person who arranged the meeting for me had heard her name but never seen it written down and had just guessed at the spelling when emailing me the meeting confirmation. So I’m glad the security guard let me in with that incorrect info! The office was very busy at that time of morning, which I learned later was a class period change, so there were lots of students, faculty, and staff requesting various things all at once. Someone asked who I was then smiled and said “Welcome!” in French and pointed to the woman that I was there to see, who was, of course, the busiest person in the room. I waited patiently until she looked my way about 5 minutes later then said my name and position, hoping that she wouldn’t have forgotten about our appointment. She said “Oh! You’re very punctual” and invited me to have a seat. I filled out some paperwork and then my mentor teacher – the head of the English Department – came in. It was very nice to meet her after having exchanged a few emails.

She took me across the hall to another office where the staff members were all being very silly. (I guess it was a “Friday” thing.) Two of them introduced themselves and then they pointed at a lady across the room and said something like “Then there’s that one over there” and started making gestures to mimic her haircut. I was like, Is this real? They were very young, like probably not much older than me. I received a key and an ID card (blank so far because I didn’t know I was supposed to bring photos) and learned that I can pay to use the cafeteria for €2,55/meal. It took them a while to calculate how much I would be charged or something because they were trying to classify me in terms of my salary. Basically all I understood is that they said I wouldn’t be getting paid very much, which I already knew.

Cafeteria/Library (Left) and other classroom buildings

My mentor teacher then took me around the school a little bit, first showing me where the cafeteria was located on the fairly large campus. I asked if it was normal for teachers to eat there with the students, and she said, “Not at all.” So I can scratch that off of my list. From there she took me to the teachers’ lounge, which required my key for entry. It was a large suite that wrapped around the side of the building to include both sides of the hallway. In one room was a long conference table where teachers were working or drinking coffee or whatever as well as computer stations and printers. Then you go through a door where the bathroom stalls are located into a room with a coffee machine and more seating followed by the mailroom, which is on the other side of the hallway. I was proud to have my own little cubbyhole with my name on it. Every time a teacher came in, my mentor teacher would tell me who they were and what they taught and then introduce me. Some of them said they wanted English lessons. She said that there are about 120 teachers in all. Or, at least, there were at one time.

Afterwards, she asked me a very important question: did I wish to stay for her next English class, which was basically 12^th graders, or students preparing to take their bac (graduation exam)? I didn’t have anything better to do, so I said yes. She said that they were studying the 60’s in America, which was one of the required themes for the English portion of the graduation exam. She switched to English as she named some of the things that they might talk about: “Elvis Presley, JFK, the pill.” When we reached the classroom, she asked one of the students to wait outside, closed the door, and explained to me that I shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that she was going to be very strict in the classroom. I don’t think she used this exact terminology, but she basically said that many of the students at the school lack basic “home training,” so it’s up to the teachers to show them how to behave since their parents aren’t doing their jobs. I was like, “Sounds good to me.” (Oh, and I forgot to mention that she had given me my schedule at some point during the morning, so we already knew that I wouldn’t be working with her regularly during this semester; I’m assigned to other teachers in the department. Today was kind of a one-time event.) After she told me that there were only 18 kids in the class, which meant that there would be plenty of empty seats, I sat down up front because she said “they might want to ask you a few things.”

Next, she opened the door, and the students all filed in and stood at their chairs. She asked if anyone was absent, and they began to reply in French. The teacher said, “No French! You know that.” So they switched to English in order to tell her who was absent, and then she permitted them to sit down. She then came over to where I was seated, and I stood up immediately. She introduced me and asked if they had any questions. First, a girl in asked where in America I was from. I was going to start answering, but the teacher wanted the girl to use impeccable grammar first. It was like, I could understand her, but she had kind of gotten things a little confused. I waited for the teacher to correct her, then replied. I felt so funny speaking English to them. And I had no idea if they could understand me. So I asked a lot of questions. I was like, “I’m from Atlanta, Georgia. Have you heard of it?” The girl quickly nodded her head. When I asked for details, she said, “I think that’s the town of Usher.” “That’s right,” I said. Someone else asked if I spoke French, so I had to break the “No French” rule to say « Oui, bien sûr » (Yes, of course). They laughed. They also laughed when someone asked me if I thought it was hard to learn French and I explained that at the beginning I learned through songs and games and then I started all of the grammatical concepts later. But I tried to emphasize (through examples from French) that learning a new language requires us to get used to concepts that are different from what we are used to encountering in our native language, which is what makes the process seem difficult sometimes. But really I didn’t think that French was “hard” to learn, necessarily. Really it was one guy who asked like all of the questions after the “Usher girl.” He was responsible for the 2 that I just mentioned and for these 2: “What do you like about France…the food? Why did you choose France?” I told him that I did like the food as well as the quality of public transportation and that it would be similar to his choosing to travel somewhere where he could practice his English skills. It was a fun little Q&A session.

When we finished, the teacher resumed a discussion from a previous class session about a caricature of the American dream. She was trying to get them to see that the image, though inclusive of a lot of stereotypically-American icons, was incomplete. After a lot of back-and-forth and many corrections of verb conjugations and pronunciations either by the teacher or by helpful classmates, they came up with the following collective summary: “To put it in a nutshell, this caricature embodies an idealistic vision/viewpoint of the U.S. Indeed, some people are missing such as immigrants (Hispanics, African Americans, Asians). Moreover, slavery is not mentioned. So, this caricature distorts the reality. It looks like an advertisement to convince people to come and to tell them that it’s a land of opportunities.” I thought it was a very interesting discussion that almost belonged more in a history classroom than in an English one. I mostly just listened unless the teacher directly asked for my approval, except for when she kept correcting kids who were saying “AD-ver-tise-ment” instead of “ad-VER-tise-ment.” I politely suggested that that may be a difference between American and British English, respectively, so she told the class that they could say either one. I also told her after class that the term “segregation” does apply to African Americans. Someone tried to talk about apartheid and America, which she correctly identified as being associated with South Africa. But then when someone tried to talk about segregation and America, she also said that that term was incorrectly associated with America and began talking about slavery. I couldn’t find a way to interrupt her at that time, but I later told her that the two terms were from two different time periods. She said she would correct herself the next time, just as she had at the beginning of this class period with a piece of info related to the year in which Uncle Sam first appeared.

As the students left, some of them looked my way and said “Goodbye!” The teacher said that I had been very well-received by her colleagues because some of them were not usually that well-mannered. She told me that I should go to the office again next week because I don’t have room numbers on my schedule, so I’ll need to get those in order to know where to go. And I guess I’ll tell you now that my 12-hour schedule consists of 3 classes on Wednesdays, 6 (!) classes on Thursdays, and 3 classes on Fridays. She said she wanted to keep the schedule as compact as possible so that I wouldn’t have to make the trip between Paris and Aulnay so frequently. (This is the woman who suggested that I live within the city limits of Paris; apparently she does as well.) She says that unfortunately I’ll only have 25 minutes for lunch on Thursdays, but why would I need more than that? (Not being sarcastic.)

Sign at bus stop on way home: "A welcoming, green, and competitive city"

I took the bus home and attended to some more affairs since I had so much of the day left: dropped off my application for rent assistance at a government agency since I’m poor then guessed wrong trying to pick a metro strop in order to get from there to an appointment with my banker, where I told her I didn’t want a phone (because I had already bought one…shh…). Also ended up taking my clothes to the landromat to get them drier, faster because the hanging method was not working. Two 5-minute cycles for €0.60 each did the trick. At least, that’s what my wallet told me.