The New Gig: First Days

Two days into the new job, my sociological observations have so far taught me that the French have acquired whip-smart productivity in the work place. After my 9am class yesterday, one of my students mentioned she was then heading off to do exercise. “Is there a gym nearby?” I asked in French. “Mais, non!” she replied, as if that was the silliest thing I could have asked. “There is a gym here on the work site!” Oh, silly me, indeed. Morning coffee > two-hour language class > workout…What’s next, pottery and then mani-pedi, followed by baking class after which we eat our confections? As I said, whip-smart productivity.

Aside from growing green with envy over corporate summer camp, I’ve been overcome by the openness and warmth of my students. Gone are the affected adolescent apathy, stunna shades worn indoors, and phantom text-messaging menace of yore. My current students, ranging in ages from early 20’s to 50’s, are an eclectic bunch in terms of English skills, but are all united in their eagerness to learn the language. One student was so visibly happy to speak English, he was beaming. It was fun indulging this attitude with extended conversations on any topic at all, from travel to the French education system to homeopathic medicine. The latter happens to be a popular phenomenon in France, but I’ve been assured that it’s not quite as fanatical here as in California (glad to see the hippy-dippy liberal Marin hot-tubbing stereotype is alive and well). By the way, you know you’re dealing with sincerity when a chemist at a major pharmaceutical company advises you to try acupuncture instead of continuing your course of prescription allergy medication manufactured by said company.

During my full day of teaching at a company in the Paris ‘burbs, I felt like the new kid at school who everyone wants to befriend—well, everyone being the two middle-aged women and four young guys I ate lunch with at the company cafeteria. One of my students had kindly invited me to join her and some co-workers for lunch (I had an hour-long break between classes), and it quickly turned into a game of which language would reign supreme. Everyone wanted to hear about San Francisco, everyone wanted to know what I, as an American, think of France, and of course, everyone wanted to speak English. I, on the other hand, wanted to seize the opportunity to practice my French. They won me over with their enthusiasm for speaking my native language (not that my French vocab limitations had anything to do with it…English is mighty). One woman particularly took to me in an almost maternal way. She kept making sure I had everything I needed, plied me with coffee and chocolate, and confessed to me a rather moving bit of her personal history. She and her family tried to escape Vietnam as the war was ending, but during their journey, her husband, sisters, and parents all died on a treacherous boat ride. All alone, she made her way to France as a refugee and has been here ever since. Inspirational. Being a teacher has always been enriching, but being able to make these kinds of connections with people in a new country has added a wonderful new layer to my professional life.

Coming off a full day of teaching English as a language is a bit like disembarking from a long boat ride. Even though you’re back on solid ground, you still find yourself swaying to the gentle tide of speaking very sloooooooooooooowly and enunciating vvvvveeeeeerrrrrrrrry clearly. (I had to consciously stop myself from doing this, but at least I’m not one of those fools who, when faced with people not comprehending him, just repeats himself, only five decibels louder.) It’s also a bit disorienting exiting such an intense few hours of English instruction only to not hear one shred of English spoken around you. It was oddly comforting to overhear a young Canadian couple discussing this evening’s dinner plans on the RER ride back to Paris.