Day To Day

On Tuesday they have a farmers market in Apt- where they sell local organic produce, more expensive albeit but you know you're getting the good stuff. It is held opposite the school and the last couple of Tuesdays I have been down to see what it's like. There isn't a lot on offer; a fish van, lots of cheese, wine sellers, apple juice and the most novel to me- Persimmon fruit. Last week I bought one to try, and needn't have bothered because the seller asked if I had ever had one, and when I said no, he promptly sliced one up for me there and then. They are so tasty- so juicy and tropical and so cheap I ate my second one that evening and have been waiting all week to buy more. I also bought some goats cheese as a gift for Mum and Dad last week- though being a non cheese eater, I was under the impression the longer you kept cheese, the better it was. Apparently not- I went back and asked the vendor yesterday how long it lasts and he said a week at a push. So I bought some more for Mum and Dad and now have the conundrum of what to do with some good quality, pricey but very smelly and borderline gone-off goats cheese in the fridge. I have Alison coming for lunch today so I'm planning on buying a baguette and plying as much as possible off on her. After picking everything up I joined Becca in Bar L'Aptois, where the front has the best of the days sun on it and all year round (though perhaps not when the Mistral arrives) the locals sit out of the front, smoking and grumbling.

I didn't have a picture and found this on a Wikipedia page from 2011- but it's such an accurate depiction of the scene today- from the sign to the first man with his apple juice and the blue sky- it could have been taken yesterday. It shows how little must change in this sleepy part of Provence!

After lunch I met Sabine to drive up to school and she told me she had a dentist appointment and 'rendez-vous' that had come up tomorrow when I was supposed to be going for lunch but that next Wednesday was still okay and would I be free at the weekend to do something with them. I told her I was going back to England on Friday but certainly after the holidays I would still be happy to start our lunches. I wasn't too disappointed because I sense she is entirely genuine about wanting to help me and include me, as she proved later in the day.

My first lesson is the oldest class in the school, and I started the same lesson I have done all week on Christmas. The oldest classes are always the least enthusiastic about Christmas, they have moved on so far from my Year 4s, who show absolute uninhibited attention and enthusiasm, and their only desire is to misbehave, send me up and make each other laugh. This is all fine as long as the teacher is with me. I am not in a position to discipline the children- I don't know the process, I don't know the language well enough- and I am well aware of the humour for them of a teacher who cannot find the words to tell them off, or who does so in very grammatically incorrect French. So I teach the class, and I rely on the teacher to make sure the children listen and behave. Unfortunately half way through the class my teacher left to go and do some admin. Immediately the noise started and while I was ineffectually shouting 'quiet', the boy started up their amusing game 'ca veut dire quoi?' (that means what?) at everything I said. I looked at the main offender and told him to be quiet, and tried to continue with the lesson. Except we had just come across the picture of Father Christmas ('Père Noël- Father Christmas- ca veut dire quoi?) when one of the girls burst into tears- and her friend was angrily addressing one of the boys at the front and from what I could make out of the conversation, he had called her fat. Of course he protested, I called Père Noël fat. No- you called me fat. No, it was Père Noël. I have no idea what happens because I didn't hear, and may not have necessarily understood if I had, but I had a girl crying, I could not tell the boy off because I didn't know what had happened, I could not comfort the girl because I didn't have the language skills and I had a noisy badly behaving class to behave. So I carried on. It was a nightmarish half hour, and the boy never stopped his tirade of 'ca veut dire quoi?' so I sent him outside, at the point the teacher returned. She seemed unconcerned and went to the back of the class to continue her paperwork, while of course the class fell silent. Because I leave half way through the lesson and not at break time I did not have the opportunity to speak to her about what happened because I felt she should know, and I also wanted to tell her she could not leave me alone with the children- because the more a class like this happens, the less respect they have for me. But I didn't get a chance to do this, and I left close to tears and disappointed that my last week at school would end on such a bad note.

My second lesson is with the mother of one of the boys I tutor. The lesson went moderately better, but I felt diminished after the first one and lacking in confidence which the children pick up on immediately. I stopped behind at break to talk to the teacher about her son, because I was worried that he wasn't getting enough out of my classes- his level is so far above the other three. She reassured me it didn't matter, it was revision for him, it was interesting and it occupied him (he's a bit of a live wire). She told me she had two older daughters at the lycée whose English is in a much worse state, and much more important. So I offered immediately, should she wish, I would be very happy to have English conversation/ grammar practise with them. She was immediately delighted, and said she would love that- and we promptly arranged that Wednesday evenings I would wait for her outside the school and she would take me to their house, where I could do half an hour's conversation with each daughter. She offered me 15€ a session which again, adds to my weekly income, and also fills up the hours in the day with things to do, French acquaintances to make and language practise to be had.

So I was feeling more cheerful and more upbeat when I did the last lesson, and another pretty drawing, entitled 'vive emi' was presented to me at the end. I headed out to wait for my private class when the teacher stopped me and said to go down to the class of CE1, the teacher, Madame Faustin, had something to ask me. I had never met Madame Faustin but I did so, and she told me, she had been speaking to Sabine about how I wanted more practise at French conversation, and she had a friend who lives in Apt, who wants to practise her English conversation in return for practising her French conversation. I could have kissed her at this point- this is what I've been wanting to arrange all along, and was about to thank her, leave her my mobile number and depart for my lessons, when she dialled the number of her friend and passed the phone on to me. So we had a brief French conversation and arranged a 'rendez-vous' for Thursday night.

I'm glad that what could have been an awful day, turned into a good one, though slightly worried about how my classes went. Fortunately today Alison is coming over to Apt for lunch and we're planning a leisurely 'déjeuner français', which will be the perfect way to remind myself, I'm not an alien or a social pariah- I'm perfectly normal in England but I just need some help fitting in!