My own Hogwarts! Lycée Champollion, Grenoble

stereotypes and clichés

I swear I arrived in Grenoble last week, and now I have a two week holiday. I’m certainly not complaining, a few weeks without the bratty secondes suits me just fine! I decided to use the same lesson activity that I pinched from the assistant’s Dropbox folder most of the week - it seems as though I haven’t got the hang of lesson planning as of yet. I got them talking about stereotypes, which everyone (including me) seemed to find hilarious… I showed the students a video about the stereotypes that foreigners have of the French, and got them to discuss it; the usual baguette eating, wine drinking, french kissing assumptions. Then, I asked them to come up with stereotypes that they had of the British, subtly reminding them that I am of course British and will take offense to anything negative that they say.

Here’s what they came up with:

1) Ginger - apparently all Irish people are red heads, and ginger is a hilarious word?!

2) Eat bad food - if you think eating baguettes and cheese for breakfast/lunch/dinner is a balanced diet, then you have much to learn frenchies.

3) Roast beef - “we call zee british roast beeffff bcoz zhey go on zee ‘olidays without zee suncream, and zhey are alwayz burnt" fair comment.

4) Every teenager frequently takes drugs - apparently Skins is to blame.

5) Royal family - “zee Queen and ‘er corgiez! love zhem!"

6) Drink too much beer - you can never have too much…

Although some of the students are spoilt and up their own arses, they make me laugh everyday and for that reason I suppose I like them.

verging on an unhealthy obsession...

I was serenaded again by some 15 year olds yesterday, it was totally awkward when I joined in rapping Wiz Khalifa. The result: being accused of taking drugs à la Monsieur Khalifa. A bit harsh, no?!

Chartreuse; the largest liqueur cellar in the world.. (at Caves de la Chartreuse, France)

If there’s one thing the French can do, it’s bake. Most amazing cupcake ever <3 (at Jardin du thé, Grenoble)

wine tasting, competitive teachers and a french Liam Neeson...

Another exhausting week in my new French life. After a long summer doing, well, absolutely nothing, waking up at half past 7 for a 9am lesson has come as a huge shock. I may or may not have forgotten that this time exists, and frankly I preferred when I didn’t acknowledge it.

Lesson planning kicked in this week, as did the urge to reply to the students in French. I found myself saying “alors…" when starting something, and “oui, d’accord" when agreeing with a student’s barely understandable answer to a question. Seeing as I’m constantly being reminded by teachers that I am being paid solely to speak English when in the school, these habits need to stop. Compared to other assistants’ schools, mine is strict and way too up themselves. One teacher actually told me, “we are all in competition here. Zee teachers, zee students, even zee cleaning ladiez. Everyone seems nice, but zhey gossip so watch out" - thanks, really, I now feel absolutely crap and wary everytime I walk into the staff room. The bratty kids were even more bratty, and the nice ones even more complementary. A good week at the lycée then..

On Wednesday we took some time out from our strenuous day of speaking English, and went to see Taken 2. However, the French never like anyone tainting their brilliant culture, so put awful dubs over every American/English/generally foreign film, and Taken 2 was no exception. When Liam Neeson started talking, I died a little inside. The voice over they had for him was so wrong. If he had an infamous speech like in the first Taken, I wouldn’t have noticed. Moral of the story: it is impossible to replace Liam Neeson. Nevertheless, I managed to understand 90% of what they were saying, not that the action doesn’t speak for itself… but I felt proud anyway.

Thursday, a wine and music festival came to town. There were big white tents surrounding the fountain of the main square, Victor Hugo, and for €7 you could buy a  glass and taste every single wine/champagne/fruit juice at the stalls. I couldn’t have felt more French. I even fancied myself quite the wine connoisseur - swirling wine about and attempting to describe the taste, “yes, this one erm… you know, has a weird taste". Surprisingly, I had absolutely no idea and looked stupid.

This week has been an “immerse myself in French culture" week - even if I taught English, saw an originally American film and the wine sellers replied to me in English. Damn, gotta work on that accent…

   


It has started to snow in Les Alpes already - absolutely crazy! Making me extremely excited for the start of skiing season, which is looking to be brought forward a month if this is what it’s like in October.

Grenoble looks so beautiful surrounded by snow top mountains! Loving my life in France :)

first week of teaching: from wiz khalifa to out of line teachers

So, the teaching has finally begun. These past three weeks have felt the longest, but on the other hand, I still feel as though I arrived yesterday. It’s a weird mixture of feelings that I don’t think anyone could possibly comprehend! Under the impression that I was having an observation week, I turned up to my lycée on Monday very ill-prepared, only to be shoved in my own classroom with eleven teenagers. The topic? Media. That’s all I was given, media. Instead, I spent twelve hours last week ‘introducing myself’ - more like bigging myself up to some French teenagers who replied with blank, confused faces. After the first hour or two I really got the hang of it though. I’d hate to be ‘that guy girl’ but I’m gonna big myself up that little bit more; I think I’m a natural teacher. There, I said it. I never realised I could actually improvise, and there I was, standing tall and strong (but inside shaking like no one’s business) ordering scared, shy teens to speak English.

Most of the students were a piece of cake, they actually had an opinion, whether I thought it correct or not. Others, well they have already been noted as a lost cause. When I asked them what genre of music do they listen to, I merely expected a one word answer - pop/rock/rap/everything. Instead, a group of fourteen/fifteen year olds just shrugged and didn’t utter a word. There were 25 of them, and they all agreed that they hate music. “What about French music?" I asked, with which they replied “Don’t do it!" while frantically shaking their heads. Clearly they didn’t understand a word I was saying, unlike a group of secondes who absolutely LOVED to talk… and jump around… and ask awkward questions. Their reply to said question? Well it’s in the title. “I love zee wiz khalifa, ‘e singz about smoke and girlz" I was then faced with a rowdy bunch of pubescent kids who started rapping (I think) and pretending to smoke a joint. “Ev, can we speak bout zee wiz khalifa?!" I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

My favourite moment, however, was a class of terminales (17/18 year olds) who had to do a short presentation on their interests or likes. One boy decided to completely wing it and speak about his favourite thing: himself. Apparently he does this a lot, because the teacher rolled her eyes and wrote down “encore?!" (not again). I learnt all about his Martin Luther King style ‘dream’ of becoming a pro footballer, but an ‘illness in his knee’ meant he had a new dream, to become an actor ‘like that American Brad man’. What was more awkward than listening to his ‘I have a dream’ speech, was when he found himself at a loss for words to finish the sentence “I fink I can be great actor, becoz I am…." to which the teacher added “sexy?" I gasped and burst out laughing all at the same time, awkward. Fortunately, the teacher had an explanation: “NOO I said it becoz I fought that waz what ‘e waz going to say. I do not fink ‘e is sexy, no french boyz are sexy!" Seriously, dig yourself an even bigger hole. I love my job :)

Overall, a really good first week teaching. HOWEVER, I still stand by my vow never to become a teacher, but perhaps ask me again in a month or two, because these frenchies really aren’t too bad.

my first grenoblois night out

I could not have imagined a better way to spend my second weekend in Grenoble.

On Saturday, a few other assistants went on a six hour hike around the bastille, seeing incredible views and bonding over their ‘love’ of walking. I, however, had a much-needed lie in, returned to the amazing quiche café for some poulet and casually went to an Egyptian ‘party’ (definitely shouldn’t use the literal translation of fête in this case) at my lycée. After staring blankly at an arrogant French man, who frequently reminded us that he was in fact a journalist/writer/creator of the ever so popular Pharaon magazine, us lazy few assistants took a cable car up to the Bastille to meet the sweaty, tired hikers. There, we sat with copious amounts of wine and cheese (oh so French), watching the sunset and appreciating great company. It may sound cringey, but it was bloody brilliant and cold. After there was no more wine, cheese or light, we stumbled back to the bubble and reached normal altitude, where we made a mad dash back to our apartments for a change of clothes and for some, toilets to be sick in. Some people just can’t handle the French ways, no more wine for you!

We met an hour later at my studio (now the designated pre-drinking location), to teach the French, Americans, Spanish and god knows what other nationality, to play the apparently oh-so-British ring of fire. After being moaned at by my neighbours for our shrieking English voices, we headed out in search for some sort of bar/club/a bit of both. In the end, we found ourselves in McDonalds where the lightweights ate a fat burger and went home for lack of single vision, whereas, the heavyweights (comme moi) hunted down a bar. It was called Couche Tard (I think?!) but I like to call it Sleep Late, because I love being literal. It was rammed full, so we danced a bit, got squashed, sat down. I asked for a beer, got a straight bacardi and sugar. I spoke to french people, in french, got replies in english. Brilliant.

I did have a great night though; laughed off the arrogant frenchies wanting to practice their english, downed the bacardi because it was so vile, and could dance as much as I wanted because I didn’t really care who I was squashing. I did not appreciate, however, the TWO different groups of french boys who insisted on opening my bag, attempting to rob me and pulling my arm to get me to come home with them. Firstly, who do you think you are, you arrogant little boys? Secondly, don’t touch me. Thirdly, do you really think that after you tried to steal my phone and purse, I’m going to agree to ‘come home’ with you?! Sort it out. According to the french friend who walked us home, it was because “english girls dress like sluts" - while pointing at me. I’ll have you know FRENCH BOY that you have a moustache that makes you look like an 80’s porn star, so you have no right to an opinion on my ‘slutty’ dress sense (which is, for the record, not slutty whatsoever).

Next time I will wear jeans and a ridiculously baggy jumper. Plus, I’m currently practicing my karate skills from 8 years ago.

Hunted down the cutest little French café, and had the best ‘tarte de feta’ yummm! Beside the fact that mince and orange squash is non existent, French food is great.

a trip to ghost town

There’s a group of us assistants that have now formed some sort of crew, but we like to call it a possy. We are basically a few girls who follow around a guy called Patrick, because he is the know-all person of Grenoblois life. On Monday we took a coach to a mountainous town called Autrans, supposedly for some team building exercise. I’ve never been one to love a long coach journey, but this was just plain horrible! Winding around mountain upon mountain, climbing higher and higher above sea level made me want to throw up at every turn; it wasn’t pleasant. So, we arrived at the Auberge de Jeunesse - a few ‘chalets’ with various bunk-bed-filled rooms. We picked up our bed linen from huge baskets, and struggled to make our beds like we were back in year 7 on a trip to Osmington Bay.

Autrans was gorgeous though, huge mountains with clear ski routes that will soon be covered in snow, forests enclosing the cute stereotypically french chalets, and the ski lodge style bar that we managed to hunt down. However, the place was a ghost town! I assume it’s a seasonal town, so they must jump with joy when 250 odd eager french learning 20 somethings rock up on several coaches every October. The bar we hunted down was guarded by a scary French man with an even scarier rottweiler, but it was warm and had Gangnam Style on the tv. We rinsed them of €1.50 wine and fruity beer, and suddenly the lights dimmed and were replaced by year 6 disco lights, and a cringey DJ to go with it. I love France.



I met some more really cool people, and hadn’t really contemplated before now that there are people placed in cities other than Grenoble! As stupid as that may sound, I’ve kinda been in my own little bubble the past week and a half with my Grenoble crew, so it was weird to hear that people were in tiny towns near Annecy that I’d never even heard of! I’ve never been so grateful to have a school in the dead center of the city! Another realisation, was that I’ve never actually met an American person before. I think because I watch so much American trash brilliant TV, I assumed I’d spent hours with them. Wake up call: 90210 and Gossip Girl does not prepare you for the American lingo. I need to get a dictionary, and they need to stop calling a pavement a sidewalk. All the assistants are great though, and I’m glad I’ve met people that I feel so comfortable around already!