jeudi 09.11.06 Voulez-vous parler l’anglais?
I had previously asked the children to bring along some cut-outs of people to stick in their copybooks so we can add the relevant dialogue. Today’s the day to use them with the younger children and those that don’t have them have to draw their own. Some children spend ages re-cutting images, trimming the edges, positioning the images and wondering what names to give them. We quickly run through the questions and answers concerning their age and they then copy the dialogue into their speech bubbles. I wrap up the exercise with enough time to show the children how to hold hands for the Irish dance. The next stage is to turn without contorting your arms to the point of breakage or letting go of your partners hands. I wouldn’t say they perfect it but I remind them to practice it during lunch time.
One little guy in Madame Acina’s class has brought along a multicoloured waistcoat and I let him show it off in front of the class. As I’m leaving Madame Edragas’ class two little boys blow me kisses. Awh. They’re so sweet but I can only guess what they’ll turn out like in ten year’s time if they carry on like that….
With Regine and Claude’s CM2 classes we stay with numbers 1-12 and start to use the words for the listen and touch relays. I divide each class into two teams and I’m pleasantly surprised by Regine’s class who choose team names which are relevant to the exercise; 2 Pac and 50 Cent, though maybe it has more to do with their musical tastes than anything else.
To finish up, and to introduce some new vocab, I recite the following modified rhyme:
2. Put on my shoe.
3. 4. Knock at the door.
5. 6. Pick up sticks.
7. 8. Lay them straight.
9. 10. Big, fat hen.
11. 12. Dig for elves.
They get a laugh out of the big, fat hen line especially when I start clucking and flapping my arms. I feel the need to explain the line in French as they run the risk of jumping to the wrong conclusions; objects, actions and sound effects can only do so much. I decide to change the last line which in the traditional rhyme would have been: 11. 12. Dig and delve. I think delve is a bit of an old-fashioned word and they’re more likely to stumble across elves. I use my lucky leprechaun character to illustrate the word elf, and explain that the plural is elves.
I’m supposed to have a meeting with Jossylene, my responsable, after lunch so I wander around the school taking in the lunch time antics and activities. Some classes are in the yard with their responsables while others are already in the canteen having lunch. I see some suspicious-looking cucumber concoction being wheeled about and it instantly reminds me of the food we got in Sainte-Luce. The food here is all ordered in. The dinner-ladies just dish it out, wash the dishes and are on their way. Madame Nazir comes up to me and when I tell her I’m an assistante d’anglais she sparks an interest in classes for her son.
My phone rings mid-conversation. It’s Jossylene. She’s unable to meet-up today as she’s ill. I gather my gear from the library and am on my way - though not before I pop into the head’s office to print out some posters for private English lessons. However, the office is a hub of activity. A kid is sitting quietly on a chair with his left leg outstretched on another. In an instant the room heats up as four ambulance-firemen enter, put a splint on the child’s leg, sign some autographs and lift him out to the awaiting ambulance. What drama! What hotties!
Nik texts to tell me she’s in Dublin sculling pints with my man, Fergal. I stock up on fluids too – CocaCola, juice and a jar of honey to keep me sweet. A strange little girl gets off the bus at the same stop. She lives down my road. She yaps away while stuffing her face with smelly, cheesy crisps – they smell almost as bad as the stinky fruit on the verge. My self-titled “good husband”, John, texts and inquires if I want to meet-up. I reply by asking if he has any jazz sessions in the pipeline. It turns out he had three hectic days while we were away but all’s quite at the moment. I decide to give him as miss as he’s closer to being half-baked than being my other half. I bake myself instead and read the evening away.
No comments:
Post a Comment