azerty killed the blogio star

Written by admin on March 31st, 2010

so posting here has become non existent for a variety of reasons. reason number one is the most obvious reason: the simplicity and shortness of twitter and facebook has seduced me. however, there is also the issue of my long departed laptop. my little sweetie stopped working back in february and since then i’ve been living first computerless, then with this little dinky retarded wannabe computer some folks call a netbook. i call it azerty hell. see, it’s french and – as could be expected from a computer that functions in another language – its keyboard is layed out differently. there is a certain logic to this: easily accessed accents for example. the french are particularily fond of the one touch accent é, è, ç, and à. ù is also an easy reach, while ô is a bit more complicated. oddly enough it is easier to hit &锑(-è_çà than it is 1234567890 as all numbers are only reachable with the help of the shift key. periods are fun… see, to make that ellipsis i had to hold down the shift key. without the shift key i would have had this; helpful, but not nearly as useful as a . period. what other changes are there on this keyboard layout? well my ? took a shift key pressing, there is an € on the e and */µ key which i’m confused by. there is also a key that does this: $£¤ depending on which shift alt/gr button combinations you use. otherwise the other keys are similar, but just different enough to completely frustrate the hell out of you when trying to communicate in any language other than gibberish. to begin, azerty is named so because they are the first 6 letters on the upper left of the keyboard. the american equivalent is qwerty. so my q is where my a should be and my z has replaced my w. ahen i aqke up i usuqlly type like this. the only remaining difference that is significant enough for me to cavil at is the m having been put under my pinky. see, on a qwerty keyboard i have to move my finger down right of the n to find it. on this keyboard it sits under my right pinky, acting as a replacement to ; actually, come to think about it; this is the only change i like among this endless frustrating finger brain coordination reprogramming i am currently undergoing. on top of all of these changes i am dealing with two other distrubances. first, the micro size of the keys makes me feel like i’m a neanderthal pounding confusedly opon them. hitting three keys with one finger makes for some pretty sweet rfdesults. the second is not so much a problem of the keyboard layout, but one i can only blame on the absolute crap that this little joke of a computer is. see, it has a touchpad mouse system; a system that works wonders when, well, it works. in this case however it has a tendancy to just randomly put the cursor where ever if feels so damn inclined. which frequently gives me sentences that look more like schizophrenic musings than coherent sentences. or to put that another way: it haas tendjustacy uptto it weverhere fit ant.s

and so is the story of the long forgotten blog. and yes laziness is a large part too. in fact, the only reason i’m here now is because my domain expired which reminded me i had a blog in the first place. in order to ease the guilt of the $17.99 purchase to renew it for another year, i decided i should at least give it a little shout out. so hello. and goodbye.

 

Posted in france, the non category, words | 3 Responses »

those who torment me…

Written by admin on January 22nd, 2010

This is something I posted on an internet forum that serves English language assistants in France such as myself. Someone posted their frustrations with having a class of students who don’t speak English and just talk through class. I feel like my response to that person was a worthy summation to share with you all:

I have classes of up to 22 students. Most classes are 12-15 students. About half can’t speak English. Worse yet, I was told to NOT let them know I speak French so that they’d be forced to speak English. Well, after about 4 weeks of speaking like a drunk robot (you know, slurring and mechanically unnatural – or worse yet pronouncing words like a French person) I finally gave up and started speaking in French to help them understand when they were lost. Not only did this help my rapport with them, but it made them more comfortable to make blunders in English since I did it all the time in French. However, while for some it worked, I do still have groups that are just awful to work with. There are actually some that I’ve considered meeting with the principal about to ask if I can not teach them anymore. The way I see it is that most (about 9 out of 12) classes really enjoy their time with me, learn from the classes I give, participate to their relative ability, and look forward to seeing me. The other 3 classes scowl at me and talk the whole time. When called on they stare at me and speak French. I tried playing games with them to warm up to them and show that I’m not “bad teacher,” but they got so bad I had to become bad teacher (and because the teacher next door complained about their noise making).  So I’ve began taking carnets* when necessary, but I don’t actually know what to write in them so I always give them back at the end with a “next time I am writing in it!” warning.

(*a carnet is a sort of disciplinary booklet that students are required to carry around. It gets checked by the administration on a regular basis. Too many notes and you will be suspended or expelled.)

I guess I don’t really have any advice to give you, just thought I’d let you know you are not alone in your frustrations! Sometimes those 55 minutes are the most unbearable minutes of my life. I am not a confrontational person so reprimanding students has been hard. The other day two of my students started asking me what right I had to reprimand them when I wasn’t even a real teacher. You have no idea I mad I got! And for what reason did the confrontation happen? They were watching Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech with French subtitles and put their heads on their desks. When I told them they HAD to watch it they said “but I’m not interested.” I’m not interested? You’ve got to be kidding me! It felt borderline racist.

Sorry to vent. Sometimes it’s just hard to believe people can raise such annoying and disrespectful children!

————–

This story is true. But I do have many classes that I absolutely adore, especially when I’m trying to get 15 year old girls to figure out if women receive equal treatment to men. Silly girls. If they don’t listen now, they’ll learn once they grow up.

 

Posted in france, teaching, the non category, words | 2 Responses »

my first time with a 2009

Written by admin on January 21st, 2010

Warning: if you are sensitive to kind of inappropriate jokes related to premature birth, go away.

For today’s rosé purchase I spotted a wine I didn’t want to buy but couldn’t resist: the first 2009 on the shelf. Why you ask did I not want to buy it? The label. You see, I’m a bit of a label snob and find that many affordable (read: cheap) French wines have labels so god awful it’s almost painful to look at them. Bad labels are not encouraging for perspective impulse shoppers. However, the fact that it was a 2009 vintage beat out the fact that the label made me want to barf, beat up an old lady, and burn down French country homes all at the same time. The label is predominantly white and pink with the quintessential French chateau beautifully perched over a river with an ancient bridge crossing it. Below that is a horrendous lineup of a pink roses. At the bottom of the label is the wine makers name set in gold over a bright pink strip. It’s the kind of label you would find framed at goodwill. It’s the kind of label that looks like a terrible prom corsage mistake. It’s the kind of label that makes me wonder why France is even a country.

Label aside, I purchased this 2009 Cabernet d’Anjou from Les Maitres Goustiers (the name itself should have made me steer clear, damn). I’ve never had a vin de primeur rosé, and probably not even a non Beaujolais vin de primeur.  For those of you who don’t understand my fancy French wine lexicon a vin de primeur is essentially the French term for premature wine. It’s kind of like giving birth to a 6 month old (or in this wine’s case a 3 month old): they can survive but it’s not really a good idea and it’s generally just better to wait for proper gestation. So I didn’t expect much from my rosé, but was willing to give this preemie a try. However, it wasn’t until I returned home that I noticed it was only 11.5% alcohol. You see, in the world of wine 11.5% just isn’t a good sign (for me at least, I like alcohol!) with a few exceptions. 11.5% tells me under ripe grapes or more likely residual sugar, neither of which I want unless I’m intentionally seeking it out. And that’s when I knew it, I’d just bought a slightly sweet rosé. Turns out had my wine geekdom been a little more fine tuned I would have known that Cabernet d’Anjou is a sweeter rosé style. Damn Loire valley and all their sweet wines. Nothing is wrong with a little residual sugar, but when you’re expecting dry and sassy, sweet and pretty are not really welcome characteristics.

So how did this 2009 youngin’ do? Well, let’s just say if I were a 16 year old girl and wanted to get drunk this would be perfect. In fact, I may give this to some of my sophomore students and encourage them to mix it with sparkling water: it would make a delicious wine spritzer. (This is a joke. I would never encourage a minor to drink. Even though they do anyways.) What I might do is save the bottle until I have sparkling water myself and make my own afternoon teenage aperitif.  I must clarify that the wine is not terrible, but my problem with it can be explained by the same reason I drink martinis instead of lemon drops: I just don’t like sugary booze.  (Unless I’m intentionally pairing it with something. Or it’s a ridiculously priced Alsace wine that you can’t help but swoon over. And tawny port and chocolate cake will never lose a special place in my heart. But back to my point…) So the wine is sweet. Not too sweet, but sweet. Its color is a pretty rose pink with salmon tinges. The nose is reminiscent of raspberries and lychees with a touch of nice limestone minerality. The mouth is, as I’ve mentioned, sweet but not by any means cloying. If you’re a wine nut (or German) think halbtrocken and you’ll be about there. It has a mouth coating richness and a nice acid backbone to balance out the sugar. It’s actually decent, but falls flat. Good wine sings in my mouth, and this wine just babbles. However, it would be much improved by a nice spicy meal. Maybe I’ll go eat a jalapeno.

For this wine I give you two pairing options:

1. The 16 year old

Music: whatever the kids are into these days

Food: none. 16 year old girls don’t eat. Mix it with bubbly water and drink until you giggle.

2. The Food Savvy Hipster

Music: Deerhoof

Food: Thai or Chinese food that is spicy enough to make your eyes water and authentic enough to not be entirely certain what you’re eating.

 

Posted in Rosé Colored Times, booze, france, la vie en rosé, wine, words | 1 Response »

i miss…

Written by admin on January 20th, 2010

my family and friends, my cats, oregon wine, burritos, spending in dollars, sprouted wheat bread, new seasons, portland restaurants, food carts, affordable organic food, stumptown coffee, rivers, people on bicycles, bagels, coniferous trees, having a decent income, dinner parties with foodies, laurelhurst park, sel gris, never interacting with teenagers, people with tattoos that aren’t white trash, thrift stores, cupcakes, hearing (insert good band here) in public instead of (insert thumping euro trash electronic music here), progressive attitudes…

this list is a response to the beginning of my fourth month living in a foreign country. i guarantee the equivalent will be formed after four months of living back home…

 

Posted in france, the non category, words | 3 Responses »

a special rosé recommendation

Written by admin on January 15th, 2010

Frogtown has only one wine merchant, and it’s one that I don’t trust. I’ve never actually purchased an extraordinary bottle of wine from them, and the wines they’ve recommended to me I’m usually disappointed by. There is also the shop keeper issue. A man in his mid 40s, he is withdrawn, quiet, and seems to lack enthusiasm for his job and the wine in his shop. This is not something the inspires me to want to drink the wine. And every time I enter I feel his eyes lurking on me, wondering what this young foreign girl is doing in there staring at his wine, and why she knows so much about it. Actually I don’t think he cares why I know about wine, as I tried to talk to him about it and he seemed to indicate “buy your wine and leave my store.” Despite all of this, I always go back because their selection is  more diverse than the super markets that sell wine, and I’m always hoping the next time will be different. This time it was, though not in the way I expected.

Wanting to find another rosé to review I popped in the shop to purchase a bottle because I knew for a fact they had at least one extraordinary rosé: Jean Maurice Raffault 2008 Chinon. An extraordinary and affordable rosé with beautiful minerality, hints of white pepper, and the subtlest background of wild raspberry. I used to have a glass of this wine for my shift drink every night after work over the summer, that is until we ran out. However I didn’t want to try a wine I already knew, so despite the risk I tried something new. As I walked into the shop I noticed the shop keeper was helping another lady. Relief! I won’t get harassed today. I made a bee-line for the rosé section when suddenly someone walked up to offer his sage wine advice. It wasn’t however the shop keeper. It was his son. His son is 16. No joke. 16. I don’t think I really need to point out the absurdity of someone recommending wine who won’t even be legal to drink said wine for another 5 years in my country! Granted, we are not in my country, we are in France, but still…

Wanting to help him make dad proud, I accepted his services. “Can I help you with your selection?” he asked in French. “Sure,” I replied doubtfully, “I want to buy a rosé.” “Are you looking for something completely dry or more fruity?” he asked. Well, the two aren’t mutually exclusive, but I catch your drift, so “dry and minerally” I replied. He pointed out a 3,75 euro Corsican rosé. I’ve haven’t yet had a Corsican rosé – and I will soon – but not one quite so cheap. “Maybe something a little more expensive,” I told him. He scanned the bottles insecurely with his fingers and landed on a very pale rosé. It’s only name was “Gris Blanc.” I decided to put him to the test, “What varietals does it have?” “Uhhh…” he picked up the bottle to look.  Grenache noir and grenache gris. “Okay, I’ll try it. Why not?”  I said.

The real reason I agreed to try it was because it was the palest rosé I’d ever seen, and more so because I wanted to say I’d bought wine from a 16 year old. For 6,75 it cost less than I had intended to spend, but it was rosé, what did I have to lose?

I walked home and put the Gérard Bertrand Vin de Pays d’Oc 2008 Gris Blanc on the exterior of my window sill for instant chilling while I made myself dinner. So how did the wine hold up to the 16 year olds recommendation? Exactly what you would expect from a 16 year old I suppose. He was on the notch with it being dry, though it wasn’t exactly minerally.

Appearance: The wine is almost white and at first I questioned if I can even count it as a rosé since it calls itself a “gris blanc” which translates to “white grey.” (Okay technically grey white, but in this case the grey is functioning as a noun which… never mind. French grammar lesson will come another day.)  Some French rosés are called vin gris (grey wine) – in Corsica for example – so I’ll assume it’s emulating that style in the palest way possible. And it is after all made in the classic French rosé tradition of using red grapes to make rosé rather than blending red and white grapes (which is illegal in the EU now, except in Champagne). Anyways, the wine is pale. The color is so pale it makes me think of finishing a glass of red wine and then pouring in a glass of white wine without a rinse in between. Not that anyone should do that, or that I ever have of course… It also reminded me of Jamie Ivey’s book about seeking out the palest rosé in France. This would have to have been one of the contenders.

So anyways. The wine. Here are my notes:

Nose: Super herbaceous and a little woody. Smells like the south of France in a big fat garrigue way. Doesn’t offer much in the way of fruit, but that is what I was hoping for. There is however the slightest hint of under ripe white peaches. Notes of ocean air. It actually smells a lot like prosecco, which took me awhile to recognize. Maybe candle wax? lanolin?

Mouth: Very dry with minerality and a mouth coating texture and a tart acid metallic finish. It’s so unctuous it verges on slippery.  There is nothing special about this wine what so ever, aside from all the subtleties on the nose.  It is extremely different from  the Tavel I last wrote about. It’s okay, but not something I would buy again. I like my roses with a slight bit more color, a little more fruit, and a more self assured character. This feels lost, uncertain of its character, where it comes from, or who it is. Perhaps it’s because it’s a vin de pays d’Oc which tells me it is probably from a bit of everywhere. On the bright side, this wine makes me nostalgic as it reminds me very much a Provencal white wine I drank over the summer with my boyfriend in Portland. Similar rustic woodiness that I can only attribute to garrigueness that I don’t actually know is a note associated with whites or rosés in the South.

Music: The Police. Why? Because you’re drinking mass produced mediocre rosé. Food: Scallops. The sea breeze notes begs for seafood, and the texture is telling me scallops.

 

Posted in Rosé Colored Times, booze, france, la vie en rosé, wine, words | 3 Responses »

chambord

Written by admin on January 10th, 2010

chambord

chambord2

naturemort2

naturemort

 

Posted in booze, france, images, the non category | No Responses »

chaumont christmas, saint emilion, a place i forgot the name of

Written by admin on January 10th, 2010

noel

saintemilion

abbey

 

Posted in france, images, the non category, wine | 1 Response »

my middle name is rosé

Written by admin on January 8th, 2010

Rosé. Oh rosé. You make me feel like a kid again… A drunk kid! In some ways rosé is the adult Capri Sun.  That is Capri Sun without the high fructose corn syrup, the unrecyclable packaging, the “added” vitamins, and of course there is the bonus of alcohol. It is fun, summery, and hard not to drink the whole thing in one sip. Fruity, chewy, delicious. I love rosé! Yet it’s not just the youthful and juicy quality of rosé that I love. It’s the diversity of flavors, of appearances. Sometimes my rosé is light and crisp with touches of mineral and wild strawberries. Sometimes it is dark and robust with notes of cherry Jolly Ranchers and fresh raspberry. And then there are the rosés with hints of mint and melon.  Rosé also comes from all nooks and crannies of the world. From Australia to Greece, from Oregon to Argentina, rosé appears everywhere that wine does (even if as a small production after thought made to concentrate reds. But more on that later.) Perhaps I will add an accent to my middle name and become Jessica Rosé! (That was the worst joke ever, and yet I’m laughing to myself alone in my room in the middle of a snow storm. It must be the that fun rosé in my glass!)

See, I truly love wine.  Really really love it. A lot. And while rosé doesn’t offer the complexity or fine bouquet (or price tag, thankfully) of  an aged Burgundy (red or white!) or Bordeaux, it offers a pleasure all of its own. Some reserve drinking rosé for a summer evening with friends and a bbq because it’s refreshing and delicious, and while I often associate it with summer frolicking as well, I’ve come to believe that any time is rosé time. For starters, it pairs magically with just about everything you eat. That salad you’re having for lunch? Have a rosé! Asparagus quiche? Rosé! Breakfast cereal? Rosé! (disclaimer: I haven’t actually verified this last pairing claim, but I will just as soon I purchase some breakfast cereal). Rosé also has a celebratory quality to it, probably because it’s pink. While I would never suggest foregoing fine bubbly (perhaps another future passion-blog project because I really really love sparkling wine too), rosé offers a fine alternative for those bubble-abstainers dotting the globe (and such people do exist, I’ve seen them in person). And if you say a rosé is unfit for the cold austere weather of a winter snow storm, well then I say drink a bottle and get back to me on how warm and cozy you feel! (Please write while under the influence, I am not a fan of sober fan letters. Thank you.)

Because of my love for rosé I’ve decided to dedicate myself just a little more to it. I’ve decided to write about every bottle I drink while I spend my remaining three and half months in roséland (France). I should have started doing this three and half months ago when I arrived because I’ve consumed a fair number of rosés since then. Unfortunately, one of the drawbacks of frequent rosé consumption is acute memory loss and thus I don’t actually remember all of them. Had I been more meticulous I would have taken notes, but my disposition tends to shy away from such structure and organization. I prefer to drink, not to note.

So here I am. Blogging my rosé.

To get the show started we begin with somewhat of a freakshow, aka an uber cheap Tavel, which is what I’m currently sipping.  I had originally thought to purchase a local rosé, but given the only red grape we produce near Frogtown is Pinot Noir, and that this isn’t really a star wine region, I wasn’t in the mood for disappointment. So Tavel it was. Tavel is a special wine. It is an AOC region of southern France (Rhone region to be specific, if you’re a real wine nerd like me), and based on my recent 130km per hour freeway drive by, it is a very beautiful, dry, rocky region. Driving through in winter, Tavel has a rosé appearance because of the red clay in the soil. And more importantly Tavel only produces rosé. Yes you heard me, only rosé. No red, no white, no bubble sparkle fun, only rosé.  If anyone is certain they make a damn good rosé, it must be Tavel. Not to mention, Tavel was the preferred wine of the famous 19th century French writer Honoré de Balzac, meaning it is the “literary rosé.” To me that says erudite, and I like erudite.

My current Tavel rosé is La Closeraie 2008, purchased at the nearest French supermarket I could make it to after 8pm (late in Frogtown) in below freezing temperatures and a snow storm.  At 6,59 euros a bottle it is an entirely mediocre rosé and a very cheap Tavel, and yet it is still satisfyingly enjoyable and delicious.  Such is the magic of rosé. Even the most mediocre of them can be a delight! To translate the back label of the bottle it states, “Produced on the right bank of the Rhone, Tavel is considered the ‘premiere of French Rosé.’  Very fruity, fresh, and balanced, with raspberry on the nose, Tavel’s ‘La Closeraie’ will please wine amateurs.” Oh what honesty France! You admit right on the label that this is no wine for sophisticates. The label is utterly tacky, but then many wine labels are, and the bottle is engraved with Tavel’s insignia.  It contains 13,5% alcohol, and has no warning to pregnant women or alcoholics. As Tavel is known for, this rosé is a deep colored one. The color reminds me of a vodka cranberry that has sat on melting ice for too long, with a tinge of orange coloring. The nose reminds me of sitting near a cool lake on a warm day with a cherry Jolly Rancher in my mouth.  There is something breezy and refreshing in it that is balanced by a hit (yes wine snob, hit not hint) of candied sweetness. I also am getting wild raspberries and the slightest tinge of anise. The mouth is full bodied for a rosé – as many Tavels are – with zingy acidity and a touch of under ripe strawberries. The finish is surprisingly long for a cheap Tavel, but none too complex. Definitely tart, made without the grace of a master vintner, but since Tavel is usually higher on the rosé pay scale, and this is a cheapy, I’m happy.

Music: David Bowie

Food: spicy Portuguese sardines on pasta in green olives, raw garlic, and warm tomatoes.

 

Posted in Rosé Colored Times, la vie en rosé | 4 Responses »

fotografia

Written by admin on November 30th, 2009

life in chaumont affords a plenitude of free time. sometimes filling the gaps requires a little creativity. yesterday empty wine bottles, old photographs, and some yard greenery were the tools necessary for a long day of arts and crafts that led to the decoration of my kitchen. and also the discovery of the worlds smallest escargot….

babysnail

fireplace

vases

lacuisine

 

Posted in images | 1 Response »

as at home so abroad

Written by admin on November 24th, 2009

I’m not sure if I have the energy to post a full detailed account of my French life, as it’s been awhile since I last came here and there’s a lot that’s happened since I last posted (”a lot” is a relative term in 12 hour work week impoverished French life). Mostly my trips to Lyon and Beaune. I would like to blame my lack of words on the fact that I’ve been sick for a week, but given the posting history (or lack there of), I can only blame laziness. When you have all the free time in the world, procrastination becomes something of a hobby. After all, there are a multitude of later’s available to me.

That said, I do feel like it’s due time for a bit of an update, a few remarks, and some pointed tips for personal improvement (mine and others).

1. To the high school teachers of France – If you decide to go on strike and cancel your classes – which in turn means my classes – please inform me before I’ve taken the half hour bus ride to school.  And if that is not possible please – this is for you Mr. Secretary of the school – don’t tell me a teacher will be there for class when she wont be. I’m all for striking and political dissent, but I don’t like being at school for five hours when I could have been there for only one.  God created email and cell phones for a reason – use them!

2. I didn’t join couchsurfing.org as a dating service, so please stop writing me and asking me to come stay with you in Paris. I won’t.

3. Always keep one eye on the ground when walking. This is the only sure measure against unwittingly stepping in an enormous wet dog turd. Which leads me to 4…

4. Please pick your dog turds up after they have dispensed them. Really gross things happen when you don’t.

5. Please stop making everything so much cheaper for those who are 25 and under. Just because I’m aging doesn’t mean I’m rich. Adults are children too and deserve 50% off train fares. Besides, everyone tells me I look 20, shouldn’t that count for something? The new policy should be like that off the OLCC: everyone who looks 36 or younger gets carded, or in this case, the discount.

6. Perhaps rulers should be reinstated in classrooms as a form of discipline. I’m not one to promote child abuse, but I’m beginning to think some teenagers could use a good whack on the head here and there to set them straight.

7. White trash French people exist and they all shop at the same discount super market. More on this subject later…

8. Whoever told me (that would you Madame High School French Teacher) that French people don’t get drunk like Americans has never walked in the neighborhood of bars on an early Sunday morning and counted vomit splats.  No it’s not just pre, post, and current American fratority members that drink until they purge their dinner.

I recently taught my students about American politics. This included a simple 16 question quiz to determine their imaginary American political affiliation. Despite the fact it seems nearly all the students like Obama and haphazardly shout out “Yes we can!” during class, a whopping 20% are deep down McCain/Bush loving war mongers. I assume this is the part of the population that explains the near election of the neo fascist nationalist Le Pen as president in 2007.  Another 26% of students are what I have exacted as conservative democrats, though I think really they’re more like liberal republicans (I like ze guns, ze war, and ze marijuana! taxes? zey are too expeensif”).

Other findings follow.

1. Don’t assume 15 year olds are intelligent just because they’re French. Stupid people fill every nook and cranny of the earth, and that includes France. I just wasn’t prepared to have to explain to the kids why they don’t pay to see the doctor or to go to the hospital. I figured their 15 year old minds had figured out they lived in a socialist country where their taxes (or those of their parents) contribute to the collective good. Apparently I was wrong.

2. Not surprisingly most French teenagers are democrats. And for this I am grateful. Moreover, the older they get, the more liberal they become. I attribute this to their more highly developed mental facilities allowing them to reflect  intelligently when asked if the war in Iraq was a mistake.

3. A surprising number of French teenagers support the death penalty, which is illegal in France.

4. An even more surprising number think abortion should be illegal. (Can we say catholic?)

5. However, most agree that marijuana should be legal.  When asked why responses ranged from the infamous “Yes we can!” to “I like smoke ze marijuana” to “it make you fly.” After explaining that money spent jailing marijuana felons could be redirected to education, they seemed to like the idea because “maybe if Americans are smarter zey don’t smoke ze marijuana so much.” Touché.

6. Students are up in the air on being gay. Half think gay marriage should be legal, a quarter say civil unions are fine but not marriage, and a quarter say a lesbian is just a woman lost without a man and that gay men are unnatural. (These are some of the same kids who need to feel the corrective sting of my wooden – or maybe metal – ruler).

7. Studies find the generally more annoying and disobedient the student is the more likely he or she is to be a republican.  Once again rulers come into play here. Rulers = a good excuse to beat a republican.

And that is that. This is France.

 

Posted in france, teaching, the non category, words | 3 Responses »

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