In France, we are always on strike or on holiday.

As you can see, I've changed my blog layout.  It's probably the most exciting thing that's happened to me all day.

I had two afternoon classes today and the first one was one that I was going to for the first time.  Between mix-ups, scheduling issues and the like, I've somehow managed to go six weeks without ending up in this class.  If all goes according to plan, there will be another class this Thursday that I'll also be visiting for the first time.  Keeps me on my toes, that school does.  Anyway, since it was my first day in this class of eight and nine year olds, I ran through my well-practiced routine of introducing myself, telling them where I'm from, pointing to Chicago on a map, then New York, miming a large distance, and then answering the question, "Do you live close to New York?" ten times after that. 

The teacher then allowed the children to ask me questions in French.  Always a bad idea because then the kids can actually ask whatever pops into their head and I suddenly have twenty-three hyper French children spewing out questions so fast that even the teacher herself doesn't understand what they're saying.  Here are some highlights:
Are you married?
Do you have any children?
How old are you? (When I respond, one kid falls off his chair in mock surprise.  Am I that old?)
Do you know any children our age? 
Follow up question: What are their names?
What's your job?  (No, I just teach English to snotty-nosed kids in France as a hobby.)
Do you speak French? (I've been responding to all of their questions in French up until this point...)
Do you live in England? 
Do you live in New York?
Do you know Obama?

Next, the teacher asked the kids to tell me what they thought Americans ate for breakfast.  Most said bacon, eggs, omlettes, pancakes, and then one girl raised her hand and said du blé.
"You think that Americans eat flour for breakfast?" the teacher demanded increduously.
The girl nodded her head.
"How do they eat it?  Like this?"  She mimed eating handfuls of flour.
The girl nodded again.
The teacher turned to me.  "I don't know where they get these ideas.  Maybe she means cereal."

After Q&A was over, I passed around my Illinois driver's license which caused everyone to squeal in delight, including the teacher.  I hadn't done this before, but clearly I should have because it was a hit. 

In my second class, we were still on the subject of Halloween.  Christ.  At this point, as long as we finish Halloween by Christmas, I'll be happy.  Yet again, I was subjected to the unending French spew of questions.  Do you dress up?  Do you eat candy?  How much candy?  Can you tell us how many pieces?  Do you ever play tricks on people?  Do kids all dress up like witches and skeletons?  At this point, I felt it necessary to point out that most kids don't dress up in scary costumes (it's an assumption that all my students have made about Halloween).
I said, "A lot of kids dress up like characters from movies or books.  Like Harry Potter."
"Qui?!" the students shouted in unison.
They must know who Harry Potter is, I thought, panicked.
"Uh, you know, Harry Potter."  Blank stares.  "'Arry Pohter?" I tried, putting on my best French accent.
"Ohhhh!  'Arry Pohter!" the kids screamed in delight.
Welcome to my life.


On the Thanksgiving front:  I had to clarify to a teacher today that no, not all immigrants who come to America are called Pilgrims. Then this perplexing conversation in French:
"So are pumpkin pies tartes?" the teacher asked.
"Yes," I responded.
"And tartes aux pommes... that's a pie?"
"Yeah, we'd say apple pie."
"So it's not a cake?" she asked.
"Apple pie?  No, tarte means pie."
At this, the teacher knitted her brows.  "Are there any tartes that are actually cakes?"
I was utterly confused.  "Uh, no, I don't think so."
"Hmm..." she didn't seem satisfied.
"Oh wait!  Boston Cream pie is actually a cake!"  I exclaimed.
"What's that?" she asked, gleeful that she had been vindicated.
"Uhh... it's, I don't know."  How do I explain in French?  "It's... good.  It's so, so good."
She smiled.  "I'm sure I would like it then."
I'm still totally confused about what she meant about pies and cakes.  And now I just want Boston Cream pie. 

In celebration of me finally learning how to embed videos, please enjoy this gem.  All of it is true.