Back to school - Lundi, 16.10.06

Lundi 16.10.06 Back to school

Nicola may not still have saltwater in her eyes but she does have an annoying bird outside her window. I can hear it too but it’s not caw-cawing next to my ear every night. It actually sounds more like a mini machine gun. Nicola would gladly let it hear a real machine gun. Nicola is clearly not her cheery self this morning as she had to listen to bird-brain’s chit-chat all night.

It’s my first real day teaching at Chateauboeuf so I’m on the 6,20 bus from Tivoli into town. Today (like every school day), I have four classes in a row; the first two are senior classes – CM2, and the last two are juniors – CE2. I’ve got two 15 minute breaks but it flies; by the time you’ve packed up, crossed the yard and gone to the toilet it’s time to move on.

Monday’s Timetable is as follows:

8,00 – 8,45 CM2 D – Regine Caruge
9,00 – 9,45 CM2 C – Claude Duval
BREAK
10,00 – 10,45 CE2 C – Isabelle Acina
10,45 – 11,30 CE2 B – Catherine Thaly

All in all the day goes well. I’ve prepared sufficiently and adapt the activities and the content to suit the class and their level. The kids are generally interested and participate well. I use the word ‘generally’ because by 10,00 I notice some kids are starting to wane and others even need to prop themselves up - whether they are seated or standing. I know not to expect too much from them but I am pleasantly pleased by a few bright-sparks.

I start each class by presenting myself again and telling them, in French, what we will cover in the class. I’ve decided to start off by showing them where in the world English is mainly spoken. I use the school’s Map of the World. I place my people cut-outs on the relevant countries and match them up with a speech bubble which has the word English written inside each one. We go through the names of the countries and to recap I ask pupils to come up and match my mini-signposts with the country I call out. It’s easy to think that these kids know that English is spoken in Dominica and Jamaica, which are just on their doorstep, but no, some kids are even clueless as to the location of these countries let alone to the fact that English is spoken there. There are also a few wildcards who ask if English is the main language in Russia and China. The teachers often roll their eyes or snap at their silliness though I can’t help think that most are genuinely clueless. To end that part I stress how important it is for them to learn English; for travel, for work, to visit friends and to communicate on a worldwide scale. With 30% unemployment in Martinique and only 10% of the population speaking basic English it’s not hard to see how so many could fall into a bleak rut which eventually leads to drugs, drink and ruination.

The second half of the classe involves introductions. I explain how different expressions and mannerisms are used across the world to greet people. Of course you could go on all day saying: G’day mate. How’s about you. What’s up. Hey homie!, but I choose Hello as most of them can relate to that. Aside from the standard daily greeting, the most basic introduction is to say your name so that’s what we’re focused on for the week. I involve the teachers by asking them to go through an introductory dialogue with me. Some of them are a bit unsure and faltering of their own English. We use the handshake and the expression, “Nice to meet you,” to demonstrate the different cultural exchange. I get some giggles with that and again when I over-emphasis their use of the French ‘kissy-kissy’ salutation. The teachers and I go around to each student, shaking their hands and trying to get them to pronounce the word nice correctly, amid chuckles.

The rest of the class is spent repeating, “What is your name?” and “My name is _____.”. I use different activities to try to get them to speak loudly and clearly, in groups and on their own. Some of them are so quiet and timid that I nearly feel like I’m making them more self conscious by getting them to speak plus fort, but hushed tones won’t help their pronunciation.

Of course you have to respect each child as an individual while still considering the class as a whole. I find that each class’s attentiveness, participation level and obedience are usually linked to the teacher’s own responses. Some teachers are content just to let me ramble on and do my own thing but others are more interested and involved. I’ll have to make a conscious effect to make the class content engaging for everyone. Another thing I have to pay more attention to is the time. I feel that for my first day I didn’t step too far over my 45 minutes slots, but obviously each teacher continue with another subject they’ve prepared so I have to respect their time too.

With my first day over I’m just ready to head back home to bed. I get a lift into Fort-de-France with Dominique, Fanny and a CP teacher. It’s a pity I don’t take the initiative to ask them about their lunch plans but I’m tired, hot and hungry and can cater for my immediate needs at home.

Two weirdoes pass me by at the bus-stop. One, noticing my tan-lines asks me, “You like the beach?” He pronounces beach like bitch so I purposely put on a puzzled expression, let him revel for a moment and eventually correct him in English. I tell him I do like the beach but I don’t speak French and he waddles off with his heavy shopping bags. The next dude is more of a leech. “You want Lover Boy?” Yet again I play dumb. He thinks for a minute, searching for words, and comes out with, “You, me. Together.” If he had of persevered I may have fallen for his toothless grin and his lanky limbs but after another minute of silent searching he shrugs his shoulders in a blasé manner and says, “C’est pas grave.” (It doesn’t matter.), slumping down the rat-infested road.

Unbeknownst to my foreign fancy boys I recently had reason to use my guys are planks attitude with my boyfriend, Fergal. Of course I’m delighted to hear he’s coming to visit at Christmas – even if it means financial ruin and family fracas, but when he texted to say he’d be staying for two and a half weeks I sort of flipped. Firstly, he had initially said he’d seats reserved on a flight on the 28th December and another for the 10th January. Since Nicola and I go back to school on the 8th I was a bit fussy, even then, as to what he would do up in the mountains for two days while we were in work. So when he tells me he’s staying till the 14th I really lost it. I was put out not only for myself (as I’d made plans for the rest of the week), but also for him because as nice as Tivoli is, there’s really nothing to do. The five TV channels are fuzzy and in French (German won’t get you by here!), and the buses to Fort-de-France are infrequent.

Fort-de-France is definitely not the ‘Paris of the Caribbean’ it’s made out to be… Madames, mad men, markets and mendigots… les hommes qui font la manche (hobos) are possibly all they have in common. You wouldn’t stay in Fort-de-France past 18,00. As the shutters come down the prostitutes and the bad boys come out. I had to laugh when Fergal said he could always go to a hostel if we got sick of him. There’s one hostel on the island and it ain’t in Fort-de-France. Plus any hotel you’d find is a business hotel (in the legal money making sense), so you’ll pay big bucks for that. By taking a later flight to save money I reckon those salvaged funds would nonetheless find their way into the Martiniquais economy. To top it all off he’ll probably go back to Ireland in a bin-bag after over two weeks at such close proximity! Firing range. Then I’d have to pay the heavy-baggage handing fee. Goddammit.

Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out, have a fabulous time together and won’t have you out of house or pocket (well, not by much anyway!). It’s Monday. It’s hot. I’m tired, hungry and now have a sore stomach. Damn ulcer. So let me be a nark and take my narcotics.

Once I’m home I don’t care much for sleep as I’m still in a mood and my tummy’s still at me. I watch Prison Break to kill time and I end up killing mossies too – I even get one with my bare hands! Many of our natural, flurry, flying friends call round for the evening but it’s the appearance of the supernatural (or unnatural) one’s which make me jump. Edith pops her head around the terrace, giving us a shrieking, giddy greeting. Nicola and I are just mid-dessert. Edith spies it and licks her lips. Nicola who had previously being texting Will is spooked to hear that he’s in the car. We’re in no mood to have them in so we head to the gate in our PJs. It’s sort of my fault that they called round as I left some items in their car. Since they have returned my pieces I offer Jimmy a peace offering in the form of mango ice-cream (He didn’t get his MacDo lastnight because of me!).

Gethin had called prior to our disturbed dinner telling us that his arm was now in a cast. He had paid a visit to the rugby club’s doctor and was told he would need surgery as a tiny, but important, bone was broken. Edith said that as a foreigner he was likely to get ripped off and she vowed to get him an appointment with a ‘specialist’ she knows so he can get a second opinion. Since we don’t have our social sécurité yet - to claim back up to 70% of hospital and consultation fees, Gethin will have to get the operation done later – in fact, during our planned trip to Guadeloupe and Dominica; the expense and the timing means that we are one man down so we text Marco to see if he wants to come. As it happens a lot of assistants are off to Dominica for the Créyol Festival, from 28th October to 3rd November. Marco and Avian had already made plans to travel so when James then rang we tried to get him on board...

With lightening high on the horizon, and rain beginning to fall we said bonne nuit and scurried off to our respective abodes for cold tea and another rant session.