New intentions and old misunderstandings

I am teaching high schoolers a language they may or may not want to know. Last week and this morning I visited a couple of classes and was asked questions about me and my life. They got most excited when I said I liked the British Skins. Aside from my semi-exotic presence in the classroom, they seemed pretty bored. It's so strange that something they do every single day can bore them so. Maybe I forgot what highschool was like. Over the past year or so, I have been thinking about becoming high school lit teacher, but that would mean teaching A LOT and only having a captive audience about 30 % of the time. Hmmm... I'm hoping my small group classes, which will start next Monday, will engage the students and get them excited about speaking English. Manipulating them with their sole passion for pop culture? I can work with that.

My teaching schedule leaves me a lot of free time, time like I haven't seen in a long time. Time that I have to use to do the things I want to do, but am too lazy to do. Habit-forming timmmeee.

Since I arrived in France, I have run into many things that have made me scorn my rather lazy nature. Specifically the fact that I am unmotivated to write, but want to be a "writer." The first thing was a girl, Jo Crow. This is already a pen name. Which of course is necessary because said Jo Crow has already written two novels, attended a year of graduate school in Popular Fiction, and is looking for an agent. "So what do you write?" she asks, after telling me she just does not like literary fiction. Oh? The second thing was a boy, who is yet without a pen name. He studied many things in university, mostly medieval things, and happened to write a screenplay. It is an adaptation of an old french mythic tale. I thank him for leaving his explanation brief, but not for telling me that producers were already interested in his script, the same ones that did Braveheart, ect. And then asking, "So, what do you write?" My answer to this question is wishy-washy at best.
But, instead of feeling sorry for myself and my inability to put pretty paragraphs into a coherent, narrative order, I have started writing for at least an hour a day (this doesn't count.) My students also asked me if coming to La Rochelle will give me something to write about. I thought for a second after saying, "Definitely," and added, "In the future, I'm sure." What I am working on right now is rooted in some encounters I had when I was in New Zealand three years ago.

It is interesting talking to the students about my life and hearing myself getting excited about certain things or giggling about others. It seems that my energy or quirky reactions to things are what they follow. I can't tell how much of my speech they actually comprehend. It is strange "communicating" this way, but I am getting used to it. Aside from in class, I am speaking primarily in French and having conversations about everything from music to schooling, from divorce procedures to cellphone plans. I have grown accustomed to only understanding part of what is being said to me, but truthfully, it doesn't seem to make a difference. Afterall, when does full comprehension and communication ever exist?*

For instance today I finally opened a French bank account. I signed paper after paper for my free youth checking account, and it could have freaked me out immensely. However, it was the same feeling I have when dealing with banking matters in the states. The language is removed from both French and English. The only words I need to understand are the ones that relate to me doing things: withdrawing money, banking online, NOT paying any fees.

Some shots of La Rochelle. Thus far, my life consists mostly of wandering around and getting lost. That is totally alright with me. Monday things will pick up, but until then it's me and the town, which has traded in the sunshine above for a blustery gray with patches of blue. Also fine with me.

*Whoever said everything we ever write again will somehow relate back to our senior thesis definitely has a point....