It’s in the toilet - Mardi, 14.11.06

Mardi 14.11.06 It’s in the toilet

I’ve taken to reading on my way into school. I spend at least an hour on wheels every morning and I’m rarely interrupted; unless I sense someone’s staring at me, like some guy was this morning on the bus into Fort-de-France. He was chatting to the driver but I could feel his eyes boring through me. He’s not the only voyaging voyeur. While I’m waiting at the bus stop a guy in a maroon car slows down as he passes me and either whistles or sends out some wacky message for the day. Today it was: “Ne gratte pas les moustiques!” after which he quickly added “Bonjour” while flashing a wide grin. I just grinned back and continued scratching my knee. It was actually itchy. He doesn’t know how lucky I’ve been with the mosquitoes all week – though it’s the moustique-men who won’t let up lately.

I’ve another man to put up with once I reach Chateauboeuf. It’s Eduardo the surveillant général. He’s there to keep an eye on who goes in/out/near the building. Lately he has taken to walking me to the gate when I leave. He’s not built like a burly guard and frankly he’s quite pleasant even if he comes across as being a bit moody. I think he fancies himself more than he does me so he’s not on my weirdo list at the moment.

I have my other two CM2 classes this morning. Christophe’s class dilly-dally as per usual though when I mention that a round of BINGO will reward their work they perk up a bit; of course they’re too behind to play games. Christophe is more vigilant than usual and he helps out by checking everyone has correctly transcribed the sentences and dialogues. Towards the end of the class he almost apologises for the class’s hopeless slowness. I tell him it’s to be expected and I then tell the class that sentences may be mind-numbing but they are still necessary, and I add that the next class will shake them up and wake them from their weary ways

Madame Bois is busy down the back of her classroom preparing for the rallye next week. Her class diligently take down the new phrases and make up interesting dialogues using the images they brought along. Of course there’s the usual prankster who has neither images nor imagination to draw any. Andy is the joker today. He tells me that he’ll do the exercise at home. Madame Bois is suddenly all ears and she jumps up to award him with a black mark for his insolence.

During the lunch break each class is chaperoned by a responsable. Since there is only enough room in the canteen for 100 pupils there are numerous lunch seatings. It is the responsible’s duty to look after and entertain the class during the two and a half hour lunch break. This week, in preparation for our upcoming cultural exchange, the children are making decorations to brighten up the school. I show them my Irish-flag bunting so they can copy the design for the other flags. Dominique’s class complain about their responsible saying that she’s fierce; I’m sure she’s only matching their own fury.

During the break I meet Elizabeth the other English teacher. She’s battling through the day; one of her shoes is broken as is the strap of her bag and she herself seems a bit worn out. She also teaches in Chateauboeuf B – the collège. I’m photocopying some posters offering English lessons and she proofs them for me. I place them in the staffroom/library, canteen and toilets, and I give Elizabeth a few to bring to the big school.

There’s a policeman in with Madame la Directrice. Elizabeth doesn’t know what’s going on but she isn’t surprised as brutal behaviour and certain unpleasant deeds within the school are usually dealt with by the police. There’s a good guy here too; it’s Guy Chastan, who works with my responsable Jossylene, as a Conseiller Pédagogique (primary education adviser). He’s all smiles and chats away about Irish dancing, Leonardo DiCaprio and The Gangs of New York.

Today’s troop of young dancers catch on quickly to the Irish dance, Séanín. We push back the desks in Madame Pamphile’s classroom and after a rousing rendition of Head, shoulders, knees and toes the children sit in the middle as I run through the steps with my chosen partners. When it’s their turn the boys awkwardly shuffle about unable to look the girls in the eye to ask them to dance. The girls huddle together and squirm as the boys extend their hands. It takes some time but eventually they’re all paired off. I have to talk to them in French to get the steps across but it’s the lack of space which irks me the most. Thankfully nobody is injured (although someone does fart making the group scatter at lightening speed) and the wandering Inspectrice doesn’t stumble across us while she’s on her rounds.

Madame Edragas’ class is the best by far. We use an empty room to practise in which helps a great deal. Plus the class is evenly paired-off so there are no boy-boy combos this time round. HEEL. TOE. 1,2,3. TURN and HOP. 1,2,3. SPIN are all you can hear for about half an hour until someone starts to moan about sore limbs and sweaty palms; I swear I hopped to the gate with Eduardo and skipped off to the bus stop.

I’m glad to be home with my limbs and sanity intact. I get off the bus a stop early. The wild hedge along the roadside has been cleared and I can now see down the valley into the gardens below; I spy a pool and wonder if we’ll ever get friendly with those neighbours. When I reach the top of the road there’s a guy from the bus lingering about. He starts walking when he spots me. I deliberately walk slowly and keep behind him to see what he’s up to. He briefly calls someone on his mobile. It’s too quick to be a real call and I don’t hear what he’s saying… I think I’m becoming too suspicious for my own good!

I pop up to Arlette to remind her about the CAF documents. She has a friend over and they’re both in old clothes, bent over a stove with lots of small pots and a bucketful of charcoal. She says she’ll have the forms ready tomorrow and I tell her there’s no rush though secretly Nicola and I have been wondering what is taking her so long. I hope she has the proper documents as we have our meeting on Thursday which doesn’t give us much time to go changing things. I skip out of there before the witches’ coven puts cloves near me or cloven feet on me. I hear them nattering and clattering away for ages after.

Poor James is bored again. He texts to tell me so and adds that he’s distraught too as Gaël has left Star Academy. I consider visiting him tomorrow though before I get to reply I’ve drifted off with The Coral Island in my outstretched hand and my mind. I rise about 19,00. I make a cheese burger, and munch on pineapple as I settle to watch the sun descend and the day end.