Jeudi 03.05.07 A Beautiful Creature
I wake up this morning with that confused and dazed feeling that something is amiss but I just can’t put my finger on it. It takes about ten seconds for the recesses of my brain to wake up to reality. Oh yeah. Now I remember. There’s a certain emptiness or numbness that I can’t centralise. It’s like dread before an exam or interview; you know it’s impending but when it’s over all recedes and you wonder why you even felt that way. The guys aren’t even gone yet. They won’t be hitting the sky until this evening. I did mean to watch the sky for their plane but I’m napping when the time comes around.
Today is the first time I’ll actually be taking the navette to school. It’s so peaceful and tranquil just sitting at the water’s edge and it’s reassuring to actually see it gliding across the bay instead of straining your ears for the sound of hydraulics. I’ll be taking the 6,40 boat from now on. In sleep time that’s an extra hour in bed for me.
There are some other early risers out for a dip in the ocean. A fluffy little dog follows his owner along the jetty. Business men swagger past with their shiny briefcases and swanky secretaries clip-clop along the planks with various degrees of difficulty. The boat is packed and the lulling motion is dangerously soothing. The fascination of my new route to school distracts me from the day’s initial thoughts. I’m on the bus to Chateauboeuf when my mobile sounds; thoughts for the day… and the future.
If I didn’t have school I’d probably just become a recluse for the day. There’s a certain driving force that I love about my job here: it’s the satisfaction you glean from seeing that they, the kids, truly, profoundly understand; the pride you feel upon hearing their thoughts, reactions and responses; and the encouragement you receive from knowing that however little they learn linguistically they will hopefully always remember this experience in a positive, self-enriching way.
We’re working on the weather this week. It’s an integral part of our agenda for La Semaine des Langues and even though I’ve missed two days this week it isn’t too taxing.
I have my trusty homemade images at hand and so they’re up on the board to illustrate the gestures we do:
It’s cold.
It’s warm.
It’s hot.
I explain the elements of cold, hot and warm by using taps and different water temperatures as well as pizza. It’s always a winner – even at 8 o’clock in the morning.
Where’s my jumper? I ask before putting it on, heating up and taking it off to physically illustrate the way the weather works.
It’s raining.
It’s snowing.
It’s raining cats and dogs. Well, thankfully it isn’t today but this is what I tell the pupils so they can anchor the word.
It’s raining. Where’s my umbrella? There it is.
Everyone’s recesses are getting a mental workout today as I tease the word snow out of their minds. Snowman. Snowball. Snowflake. It’s snowing.
It’s sunny. Where are my sunglasses? Here they are.
I explain the differences between regular glasses and sunglasses.
Sun. Wind. Cloud. Glasses. They are all nouns.
It’s windy. There’s no shortage of wind even if it is from a ventilator!
It’s cloudy. One cloud. Two clouds. I make the kids guess the phrase which corresponds and it does click with some of them.
We play the listen and touch game before getting out the tickets, mixing them up and having a time trial to rearrange them. With the younger kids I remove a ticket while they close their eyes and they subsequently have to guess which is missing.
I then ask them: How’s the weather today? I use a phone scenario where I call home, in Ireland, and ask my mother the above question. I then say that it’s windy but warm in Martinique before asking the kids to tell me what they think the weather is like today. It’s warm. It’s hot! It’s windy. It’s sunny. It’s cloudy.
Next up its Le Météo! Pupils take it in turns to play Weather Man/Girl. They take to the stage, take the pointer and ask someone How’s the weather today?
The weather subject is a bit heavy for the younger kids and they like to move so I teach them the second amended verse of Who’s the King of the Ocean? Using the whale image, between rounds of Do this! Do that! I did consider teaching them Incy Wincy Spider (that would correct their pronunciation of Spider Man… not Speeder Man) but I don’t.
I apologise to the pupils for not been present on Monday. How are you? I’m not very well. I tell them about my sore throat. Madame Acina tells me that one teacher thought I had gone home to Ireland without bidding them farewell. I think she got her wires crossed; I was moving house and I had friends who were leaving.
I queue for ages in the Post Office to send off my change of address correspondence.
The first people I spot when I get off the boat in Point du Bout are army dudes; the short hair and yukky green knapsacks are a giveaway. On the stroll home I spy Jasmine, Ceri and Alex. I don’t stop to make idle chat. I’m tired and I’m mesmerised by the crystal clearness and brilliant bluey-greeness of the sea.
It seems like we have our own HawkEyes II here in Anse Mitan. René is holding the fort while Natalie is away. He intercepts me as I’m about to mount the stairs by fluttering an envelope from the window and beckoning me up to the office. EDF have been very efficient and effective in getting back to me – though they just want my money.
Back at the ranch I munch on some melon before drifting off for the evening. I wake to the evening news and Donald McDonald who is outlining Scotland’s prospects for sustainable indigenous business if they gain independence. The petrol strike in Martinique is also off and fuel is being pumped into the country as I type.
Nicola arrives home and we try to solve the world’s problems on the terrace. Stephen gave us a bottle of lime flavoured Clement rum as a house-warming gift so that heats us up. This time tomorrow the guys will probably all at home with their parents, girlfriends, wives, children and cats.
I wake up this morning with that confused and dazed feeling that something is amiss but I just can’t put my finger on it. It takes about ten seconds for the recesses of my brain to wake up to reality. Oh yeah. Now I remember. There’s a certain emptiness or numbness that I can’t centralise. It’s like dread before an exam or interview; you know it’s impending but when it’s over all recedes and you wonder why you even felt that way. The guys aren’t even gone yet. They won’t be hitting the sky until this evening. I did mean to watch the sky for their plane but I’m napping when the time comes around.
Today is the first time I’ll actually be taking the navette to school. It’s so peaceful and tranquil just sitting at the water’s edge and it’s reassuring to actually see it gliding across the bay instead of straining your ears for the sound of hydraulics. I’ll be taking the 6,40 boat from now on. In sleep time that’s an extra hour in bed for me.
There are some other early risers out for a dip in the ocean. A fluffy little dog follows his owner along the jetty. Business men swagger past with their shiny briefcases and swanky secretaries clip-clop along the planks with various degrees of difficulty. The boat is packed and the lulling motion is dangerously soothing. The fascination of my new route to school distracts me from the day’s initial thoughts. I’m on the bus to Chateauboeuf when my mobile sounds; thoughts for the day… and the future.
If I didn’t have school I’d probably just become a recluse for the day. There’s a certain driving force that I love about my job here: it’s the satisfaction you glean from seeing that they, the kids, truly, profoundly understand; the pride you feel upon hearing their thoughts, reactions and responses; and the encouragement you receive from knowing that however little they learn linguistically they will hopefully always remember this experience in a positive, self-enriching way.
We’re working on the weather this week. It’s an integral part of our agenda for La Semaine des Langues and even though I’ve missed two days this week it isn’t too taxing.
I have my trusty homemade images at hand and so they’re up on the board to illustrate the gestures we do:
It’s cold.
It’s warm.
It’s hot.
I explain the elements of cold, hot and warm by using taps and different water temperatures as well as pizza. It’s always a winner – even at 8 o’clock in the morning.
Where’s my jumper? I ask before putting it on, heating up and taking it off to physically illustrate the way the weather works.
It’s raining.
It’s snowing.
It’s raining cats and dogs. Well, thankfully it isn’t today but this is what I tell the pupils so they can anchor the word.
It’s raining. Where’s my umbrella? There it is.
Everyone’s recesses are getting a mental workout today as I tease the word snow out of their minds. Snowman. Snowball. Snowflake. It’s snowing.
It’s sunny. Where are my sunglasses? Here they are.
I explain the differences between regular glasses and sunglasses.
Sun. Wind. Cloud. Glasses. They are all nouns.
It’s windy. There’s no shortage of wind even if it is from a ventilator!
It’s cloudy. One cloud. Two clouds. I make the kids guess the phrase which corresponds and it does click with some of them.
We play the listen and touch game before getting out the tickets, mixing them up and having a time trial to rearrange them. With the younger kids I remove a ticket while they close their eyes and they subsequently have to guess which is missing.
I then ask them: How’s the weather today? I use a phone scenario where I call home, in Ireland, and ask my mother the above question. I then say that it’s windy but warm in Martinique before asking the kids to tell me what they think the weather is like today. It’s warm. It’s hot! It’s windy. It’s sunny. It’s cloudy.
Next up its Le Météo! Pupils take it in turns to play Weather Man/Girl. They take to the stage, take the pointer and ask someone How’s the weather today?
The weather subject is a bit heavy for the younger kids and they like to move so I teach them the second amended verse of Who’s the King of the Ocean? Using the whale image, between rounds of Do this! Do that! I did consider teaching them Incy Wincy Spider (that would correct their pronunciation of Spider Man… not Speeder Man) but I don’t.
I apologise to the pupils for not been present on Monday. How are you? I’m not very well. I tell them about my sore throat. Madame Acina tells me that one teacher thought I had gone home to Ireland without bidding them farewell. I think she got her wires crossed; I was moving house and I had friends who were leaving.
I queue for ages in the Post Office to send off my change of address correspondence.
The first people I spot when I get off the boat in Point du Bout are army dudes; the short hair and yukky green knapsacks are a giveaway. On the stroll home I spy Jasmine, Ceri and Alex. I don’t stop to make idle chat. I’m tired and I’m mesmerised by the crystal clearness and brilliant bluey-greeness of the sea.
It seems like we have our own HawkEyes II here in Anse Mitan. René is holding the fort while Natalie is away. He intercepts me as I’m about to mount the stairs by fluttering an envelope from the window and beckoning me up to the office. EDF have been very efficient and effective in getting back to me – though they just want my money.
Back at the ranch I munch on some melon before drifting off for the evening. I wake to the evening news and Donald McDonald who is outlining Scotland’s prospects for sustainable indigenous business if they gain independence. The petrol strike in Martinique is also off and fuel is being pumped into the country as I type.
Nicola arrives home and we try to solve the world’s problems on the terrace. Stephen gave us a bottle of lime flavoured Clement rum as a house-warming gift so that heats us up. This time tomorrow the guys will probably all at home with their parents, girlfriends, wives, children and cats.
We’ve a pet cat. Dorian inadvertently called her Rowan and it has stuck ever since. She’s agile enough to jump across the divide between our terrace and the wilderness beyond but her little kittens are stranded. She meows and purrs and sticks her head in the fridge so often that I wouldn’t be surprised if we find her frozen next to the watermelon some day soon. She cries like a baby but she animates the place when nobody else is around. I give her some of the restaurant leftovers and a drop of milk before pegging some duck bits into the garden. I hope the cats don’t turn into rats. Uggh.
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