Lundi 15.01.07 Grind Stone
It’s back to the grinding stone this morning; early rise, public transport and work. It’s true you need a holiday after a holiday and most of the teachers I talk to tend to agree even though they admit to not doing much over the festive season; inactivity can wear you out just as much as the seasonal commotion.
A group of girls are all kitted out in orange tops and accessories. Supposedly orange, tangerine, carrot and ginger clothes are associated with remembrance. Their clothes don’t disclose any immediate meaning but perhaps it’s a remembrance of Saturday night - some of the tops are making exposés of their own and revealing a bit too much about their Martiniquan mannequins. It’s all a bit too much for me this morning. A guy on the bus has his newest toy blaring music this morning. It’s too loud and intrusive for the 6,00 bus but everyone around him must either love the tunes or be out for the count, immune to the tunes. I reckon the tolerance levels of our co-passengers are as assorted as a packet of skittles; from languid lemon to petulant purple, though if this sort of reserved inaction mirrors the sort of holidays these people had I guess I too would be craving some juicy tunes to fill the void.
I don’t pipe-up. My pipes are frozen this morning; my wind pipe due to my reserved nature and my central heating system due to various ailments. If you can believe it its too cold in Martinique today – it can sometimes be too fresh in the mountains. It does become slightly warmer as we descend but I’m glad of my long-sleeved top as myself and Nicola sit by the waterfront. However, I’m even more chilled as we watch Grandpa Pervert on the jetty opposite us. He’s doing his usual early morning bird watching routine as he approaches lone girls waiting for the navette; he seems to prefer the foreign Finches to the Blackbirds.
Thankfully the boys in school are displaying neither new-found toys nor soppy sentimentality. One guy however, is sporting a naff fluffy hairstyle – it’s more a hair growth in need of a haircut.
My timetable is not due to alter this term which has its pros and cons. Pros: I get my work done in four hours straight; I know the classes and the teachers. Cons: usual early rise; same schedule; same classes and teachers; same classes will miss out on scheduling clashes for holidays, strikes etc. In fairness I’ve nothing to complain about but I do manage to try shake up my timetable…
I’ve brought some Cadbury’s Roses to share with the teaching staff. A dog follows me in the school gates and nearly wolfs the lot down but Claude chases him away and is rewarded with a Caramel Cup. Dominique delves into the packet for a Walnut Whirl while she launches into a quick-fire round of questions about my Christmas. I can’t remember which teachers I told the my-sister-is-visiting-for-Christmas story to to explain my extended winter break so I don’t stray from this variation lest the word b-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d filters through the yard and lands on Madame la Directrice’s desk.
The bell beckons and we all scatter off to our classrooms. As per usual I’ve Madame Caruge first, followed by Mr Duval with a break before taking the younger classes of Madame Acina and Madame Thaly. New Year’s wishes are exchanged before commencing today’s lesson; les moments de la journée and les animaux domestiques. I explain what the lesson entails and The Hello Song gets the older classes going before clocks and cats take over.
I explain the various daily greetings English speakers use which correspond to the different times of the day; morning, afternoon, evening, night. I tend to start each class by saying “Good morning everyone” so it’s easy to progress from there:
Good morning
Good afternoon
Good evening
Good night
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. I’ve made a clock and we practice our numbers while telling the time:
What time is it?
(Tap your wrist)
It is ___ o’clock.
(Hold up __ fingers, make ‘o’ sign and finally point to wall clock)
I explain the difference between the 24 hour clock and the 12 hour version I’m using. Some pupils find it hard to believe that people in Ireland and Britain get up much later than they do here; a meteorological explanation is due here. I subsequently tell them that it’s strange to be greeted by bonne soir once midday strikes in Martinique.
The pupils are then divided into groups to create mimes which correspond to one of the four moments de la journée; morning, afternoon, evening, night. I use both the clock and meteorological morphology to further explain these English divisions. The other pupils have to guess both the action and the moment after each group has completed their mime.
· ¸ ¹ º » ¼ ½ ¾ ¿ À Á Â
Some of the groups stick to the safe, obvious options by stretching, yawning, going to school and watching TV, though others feed their pets, pretend to be postmen, go to the cinema and take the bus to school. Some of the younger children are very expressive and one is hilarious to watch as his shower runs hot and cold! I find most groups stuck to morning mimes so in future I’ll either allocate a specific scenario or moment.
Next up are les animaux domestiques. By the end of this exercise I have a dog, a cat, a mouse, a hamster, a parrot, a turtle, a fish and a rabbit. One girl has five rabbits and one boy has 10 mice. That’s nice.
Do you have any pets?
Yes. I have a ___. Yes, I have two ____s.
No. I don’t have any pets.
We listen and repeat, listen and touch and play hide-&-seek with the cut-out critters. I then go around the room asking pupils if they have any pets. They respond as above, and those who have pets come up to the board, point to their animal(s) and say:
It is a dog. It is a rabbit.
I have a dog. I have five rabbits.
I don’t have time to bring out my wild animal collection but Madame Thaly’s class are wild enough to compensate for this. Jean-Francois is unruly with his ruler clapping and paper-ball spitting, Charlene and Ludovic are busy having fisty-cuffs down the back and Pauline and Janika are being bitchy amid all the commotion. Madame Thaly just looks on. This has happened a few times in the previous term and I don’t want to have to spend alternate days babysitting so I tell her I’m going to ask Jossylene if I can take another class. Madame Thaly doesn’t seem phased – she prides herself on her English skills and will have no bother teaching her brood if she can taiser them. She does come down hard on the kids but we’ll see what Thursday’s meeting with Jossylene brings. I subsequently head into see Madame Dau. I offer herself and Odile the remaining sweets before giving Madame la Directrice the low-down on CE2 B. She doesn’t seem concerned but as she finishes her sweet she adds that telltale loaded (or loathed!) saying I so frequently use when I’m uncommitted to something: on verra…
Monique and I have a good moan about Madame Dau on the bus into town. Nicola’s still queuing in Leader Price when I get dropped off at Pointe Simon. We eventually hop into La Croisière for a lunch of creamy, mushroom laden Chicken Supreme with our rice quota for the day, some roasted plantain and fluorescent, curry-coloured manioc which only masks the whiteness of this bland root vegetable. Nicola goes for flan coco while I try a new addition to the menu – cocoa café; it’s a coffee and cream flavoured ice-cream tower on a base of chocolate biscuit cake. It sounds more tempting that it tasted.
We do our errands and end up visiting a jeweller, an internet café, a bank and two stores before heading for the bus home. Nic nips off to ring home from our hilltop telephone cabin while I pop into Arlette and Richard to get clean sheets and additional sheets to shield us from the frigid French freeze of late. You’d think this usually tropical climate would be good for preventing arthritis but poor Arlette is hobbling around the house on arthritic legs. Her usually narrow knees are swollen with fluid and her face is etched with pain as she scuttles about. She’s heading into the surgery to get treatment/pain-relief this week.
Nicola and I have a limb themed evening as we watch limber legged Billy Elliot dance, prance and pirouette on screen as we munch popcorn and jelly crocodiles – probably made from lithe calves’ hooves. If we can’t blame the beers we later consumed for sending us wobbling off to bed I guess we can always blame that gelatine overload for turning our otherwise solid shins into coltish curves…
No comments:
Post a Comment