Charmant, Ça !

I was just performing a French ritual - the daily closing of the shutters - when something happened. With my head peeking out the window and one shutter closed, I paused with the second when I heard someone's footsteps approaching. So as, you know, not to smack someone full in the face. Rather than scowl and say "ATTENTION!" like the frowny grandpa of a few days ago, a youngish man looked at me in my half-open window, smiled at me, and closed my shutter. I said "merci bien!" and outside (while I was now officially inside,) he responded "bonne soirée mademoiselle." Heart. Melting. AWWWW.

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I wrote that two days ago, and perhaps one good mood breeds another, because I remain pleasantly charmed by the people around me.

As the official last day of the academic trimester for l'Académie de Bordeaux, my yesterday at work was spent watching a French educational "film" about Manhattan, playing "Exquisite Corpse" for an hour and a half, and then accompanying my third class of 3èmes (9th graders) to the movie theatre to see Invictus. Their two teachers had been talking about this fieldtrip for some time, and one of them had even found and given me a copy of the poem "Invictus," the namesake of the film. The kids were pumped. And I was delighted to take part. They all whipped out their permission slips (ha! remember those?), their €4, and scrambled excitedly to put their backpacks away. I asked one of the teachers how we were getting there. She smiled and said "à pied, bien sûr!" Translation: "we're walking! What else?" I chuckled and she said the movie theatre was in centreville (downtown) and would take us maybe 20, 25 mins to get to, max. [Thanks, Geneviève. I know where Utopia is!]

I imagine we were quite a sight: two middle aged teachers, me, and thirty French fourteen-year-olds walking down the street laughing, making bad jokes, and talking loudly. All the girls in their tighter-than-tight jeans and heels, giggling and teasing the boys. It did me some good to see them outside of my classroom.

We somehow got to the movie theatre with plenty of time to spare, and though the theatre had in no way been reserved for us (or had the teachers called Utopia in advance to warn them,) we all made it into our seats with absolutely no problem. I felt sorry for the ten other poor bastards there, but I then discovered that I didn't have to. For, despite being chattery, hormone-filled brats, my students are, after all, French brats. Well-mannered, tame, and inherent lovers of "cinema." They turned off their cell phones, stopped whispering, and whipped out their mature selves as soon as the lights went down. I was astounded.

"Invictus" was great. Morgan Freeman did a fantastic job and I confess that it's been a while since I've been so moved by recent history. We walked out and were waiting for stragglers in the bathroom when the teachers started asking the kids what they'd thought. They all seemed deeply and genuinely impressed by it. But I heard one of them say (in French) "It was sooo good. I was fascinated. We are so lucky to be alive while Nelson Mandela is. We're so lucky to see these things happen."

Who are these kids? And can I give them a hug?