I was talking to Phil, an English guy I work with on Tuesday afternoons, about the process of packing up and moving. He asked me if I had a lot to sell/get rid of/ship, and I told him that I wasn't too worried about it - that I'm accustomed to that enterprise now, having done it many many times in the last few years. I said the words and knew they were true as I was saying them, but while the logistics might not be too problematic, the emotions that accompany are brutal. And they never seem to become less so.
To fulfill a promise I made to myself, and to my students, I made the 45 minute bus trek out to Villenave-d'Ornon yesterday afternoon. Despite the difficulties, the alienation, the attitudes, and the massive language barrier, leaving my kids last July ripped me to shreds. We had our trying moments. I've certainly never yelled or felt compelled to yell as much as I did, but I've also never known such generosity in strangers. I've never been given so many selfless gifts, or trusted so blindly, or made to feel so special. So when I told them I would come back and visit were I in France the following year, I meant it.
I didn't want to make it awkward for the assistant who's taken my place, or for the teachers, so I just stayed for the 15 minute recré (recess). It. was. bizarre. I got to the school early, and after hearing Ceyla the secretary teaching a computer class, I sat down on the same cement wall I ate my lunch on nearly every day. Right next to the rosemary bush, now in bloom. I took a few pictures of the big bumble bees feasting on the flowers, and saw a fierce looking tabby gallop over to be pet. The house across the street from the school has three or four parakeets, and their massive sliding glass doors were open so the birds could enjoy the sunshine and wind. Sitting there with the cat, hearing the birds chirp, was idyllic. It seemed like the only thing that had changed was... me.
Seeing Ceyla was wonderful. She was by far the kindest person I worked with last year, patient with my French, generous with her smiles and encouragement. Never condescending, and always open. She told me I should go ahead and see the kids, so I stepped out into the courtyard and heard "il y a Joanna!" I greeted the school's current assistant, Penny, who was talking to one of her students. The petite fille asked Penny if I were her mother (especially funny because I think I'm a few years younger than Penny) and we laughed. I said hello to the Directrice and my favorite teacher from last year, and was then bombarded by my FAVORITE students. About six or seven boys had come over in a frenzy of excitement and started asking me so many questions! Where had I been? What was I doing? Did I remember all of their names? (Miguel, Enzo, Elliot, Paul, Martin, Tom, Yusuf! Of course I did!) I couldn't help but tell them how happy I was to see them, and rather than be embarrassed, Elliot said "mais nous sommes très contents de te voir aussi!" [I'm crying just thinking about it. Ugh.]
It felt so wonderful to throw off the teacher hat, and just talk to them! In French! I asked them what they were learning in English (clothes, they said), whether they enjoyed it, what they were doing for Spring Break... They played a new game with me which involved spinning me, walking me a few paces, and then asking me to guess the number of fingertips touching my back. They asked me if/when I were coming back, and then why I couldn't come back. Miguel, possibly my favorite kid at that school, (Filipino parents and he told me his mom teaches physics at a university) said with great confidence that "rent is much more expensive in the U.S. than in France" and when I questioned that, he said "oh, I forgot you use the dollar!" I looked for a $1 bill in my wallet but pulled out a $5. They all ooh-ed and aah-ed and Miguel asked me if he could have it. He said "$5 would be enough." Hahahaha. I howled with laughter. Elliot asked me who was on the $5 bill, and Martin said "a president!" I told them it was Abe Lincoln, and Miguel said "oh, I was going to guess it was Nelson Mandela." (!!!) I said "Nelson Mandela is from South Africa!" and Miguel said, proud as punch, "he got rid of racism!" I could've scooped him up and smothered him in hugs. Two of their classmates, Juliette and Jodie, wandered up very shyly and said hello. They told me how nice it was of me to come visit and seemed disappointed I wouldn't be back. The bell rang, and the kids scampered off like Pavlov's pooch, saying their "au revoirs" and not understanding the weight of that one.
It was better that way. For both of us.
I couldn't have asked for a better afternoon. I literally sat on the bus 7 times longer than I did seeing the kids, and yet every second was worth it. It shocked me how clearly they remembered me. They told me they remembered my dog and my "husband" (aka brother), a picture of my mom, and the pictures of California I showed them. They remembered the stickers, and all the Bingo games. It made me feel like all the anxiety and bullshit and tears were worth it. WORTH IT.
The girl I tutor on Tuesday afternoons (i.e. today) conveniently forgot to tell me that she was going to Barcelona with her Spanish class. She also forgot to give me my check for €60. I'm going to call her mom. No more Emeline.
I have four (possibly three) last classes tomorrow, one on Thursday, tutoring on Thursday, and four classes on Friday. Unfortunate tutoring on Saturday morning. And then... done?
Phew. More later.
[sandrine's class from last year.]
p.s. bonne chose du jour: I had the best ice cream combination yesterday: one scoop of chocolate, and one scoop of Amarena, which is Morello cherries, yogurt ice cream, and a tiny bit of chocolate. TO DIE FOR.
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