I hit a wall this past weekend; no, not a real one, though this
is quite possible while driving in between ancient walls. My
wall was emotional. After attending the parent/teacher meeting
where I understand about 10% of what was being said,
I came home and crashed.
Picture this; the teacher's desk is raised on a two foot platform
that runs the length of the whiteboard in the front of the classroom.
The desks, one surface with two chairs, are aligned in neat rows;
no small, interactive groups in this classroom.
I felt I had stepped back in educational time to about the 60's.
Upon viewing the platform all I could imagine was me,teaching;
acting out a charade, doing a little dance or standing on a
chair to clarify a point. I would certainly break a leg teaching
in France.
Alec tells me the teachers rarely leave their seat and have
students pass out papers. "They never come to your desk
mom to see what you are doing."
It is one thing not to understand all the
French that is being spoken, it is quite a different thing
to watch how the French is being spoken. One teacher
after another would enter the classroom, give a mini-talk
about what to expect for their class, ask if there were any
questions, then leave. One teacher talked to the ceiling,
another would talk from one side of the room to another,
avoiding all eye contact, and several spoke lightening fast while
barely opening their mouths.
After my 1 1/2 hr experience at John 23 I became more
sympathetic to Alec who sits in class all day long "listening"
to his teachers.
Saturday, the day after the conference, I slept.
The honeymoon is over, reality has set in, we are here to
stay and learn French. Piper seems to be adapting
quite well to French; she knows attends, coucher,
fait un bisou, tu as soif, tu as faim....anything for a treat.
Tomorrow is another day and, as Alec says,
Broconte day or marcher au puce (flea market).
is quite possible while driving in between ancient walls. My
wall was emotional. After attending the parent/teacher meeting
where I understand about 10% of what was being said,
I came home and crashed.
Picture this; the teacher's desk is raised on a two foot platform
that runs the length of the whiteboard in the front of the classroom.
The desks, one surface with two chairs, are aligned in neat rows;
no small, interactive groups in this classroom.
I felt I had stepped back in educational time to about the 60's.
Upon viewing the platform all I could imagine was me,teaching;
acting out a charade, doing a little dance or standing on a
chair to clarify a point. I would certainly break a leg teaching
in France.
Alec tells me the teachers rarely leave their seat and have
students pass out papers. "They never come to your desk
mom to see what you are doing."
It is one thing not to understand all the
French that is being spoken, it is quite a different thing
to watch how the French is being spoken. One teacher
after another would enter the classroom, give a mini-talk
about what to expect for their class, ask if there were any
questions, then leave. One teacher talked to the ceiling,
another would talk from one side of the room to another,
avoiding all eye contact, and several spoke lightening fast while
barely opening their mouths.
After my 1 1/2 hr experience at John 23 I became more
sympathetic to Alec who sits in class all day long "listening"
to his teachers.
Saturday, the day after the conference, I slept.
The honeymoon is over, reality has set in, we are here to
stay and learn French. Piper seems to be adapting
quite well to French; she knows attends, coucher,
fait un bisou, tu as soif, tu as faim....anything for a treat.
Tomorrow is another day and, as Alec says,
Broconte day or marcher au puce (flea market).
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