Tut, tut, it looks like rain!

It seems that winter has swept across and engulfed the French hinterland over the course of today.  While there's no snow yet, the temperature has plummeted over just a few hours and now it's pouring those little hard pellets of rain that could almost be snow but instead are only just frozen enough so that they hurt like hell as they pelt your face and the back of your neck as you run for cover.  My poor umbrella has been flipped inside out so many times today that now when I open it, it automatically flips itself inside out before the wind grasps the opportunity.  And naturally, I clomped around in my rainboots all morning because the weather report said it would rain, but at lunchtime, when the sun was still briskly shining as it had been all morning, I changed into my non-rain friendly flats.  Needless to say, the skies blackened and turned on the faucet shortly after I left my house again.  Mondays are so vindictive. 

There are some wonderful moments in school that are so small, and perhaps meaningless in the long run, but they make my day anyway.  Like today when a stern teacher was quizzing his students on the four seasons, and one girl raised her hand and said, "Sprinter?"  I thought it was hilarious.  The teacher didn't. 

Or when I was asking a class what the weather was like today, and instead of saying "It's cloudy," a student said, "I'm cloudy."  Why isn't that a real emotion?  It should be.

In one of my last classes of the day today, a beautiful little red-haired girl came up to me to give me a picture she had drawn of a dog, clearly labeled in English- "DOG."  It warmed my heart. 

Classes ended fifteen minutes early today so that all the kids in the school could sing "Ode to Joy" and "La Marseillaise" together.  Not really sure why, but the two songs almost brought me to tears as I stood listening to them with the other teachers.  As soon as the choir teacher gave them the cut-off after the big finale of the national anthem, the school bell rang, perfectly timed, and everyone cheered.

I've found that some of my favorite students are the ones who misbehave.  I can't really put my finger on why that is, but perhaps it's because these kids are so, so good inside but for whatever reason just can't keep their mouths shut or their butts in their chairs or their hands to themselves.  One kid who drives me up the wall came up to me at recess and gave me a piece of candy and smiled shyly at me before running away.  And the so-called "bad" kids are always the ones who make sure to say hello to me in the hallways.  Also, with few exceptions, they're generally the brightest and quickest students in the class.  But let's not forget, these kids are also little devils and I told one boy today that he was a little rat and I felt like I was speaking to a dog because of all the times I had to yell at him to sit.  Of course, I said this all in English so he didn't understand and therefore couldn't get upset, and speaking in my native language always makes me feel better so:  Win/win.

And then there's the know-it-alls.  Oh god, how I hate the know-it-alls.  One girl in particular, who (to be fair) is very clearly one of the smartest students in the class, drives me insane with her quest to become teacher's pet.  She thinks so highly of herself that she even talks to me like I'm an idiot.  I kid you not, this eight-year old girl talks down to me.  I've told the kids that I can speak French, but not very well, so they should speak slowly with me.  So this girl has taken it to heart and will speak to me one word at a time, which is very confusing, and our conversations are as follows:
Girl:  Laura?
Me:  Oui?
Girl:  Comment.... [trails off and looks at me]
Me:  Huh?
Girl:  Comment dit.... [stares very hard at me]
Me:  Comment?
[She clucks her tongue at me and sighs]
Girl:  Comment... [Makes some frustrated gestures] Tu comprends?
Me:  Uh, oui?
Girl:  Comment dit-on?  ("How do you say?")
Me:  Comment dit-on quoi?
Girl:  Comment dit-on en anglais...  [Checks back in with me to make sure I'm still following]  Comment dit-on en anglais la récréation?
Me:  Oh, uh, recess.
[Girl stares at me like she doesn't believe me.]
I tell her, in French, that she doesn't have to speak that slowly to me.  She seems unconvinced. 

Well, I must don my raingear and head out to the train station.  I'm going to Nancy for my official medical exam for immigration, then spending a few days in Strasbourg with my lovely friends from Kalamazoo!