collège

Yesterday ended way too late, and today started way too early. After coming home from last night's events and writing and sitting around in a stupor because I was too tired to figure out how to go to bed...well, it was the wee hours stretching into the larger wee hours. I set the alarm and fell into bed. When I woke up it seemed that I'd hardly slept at all. That's what I get from lack of discipline, I tell myself. You need to go to bed earlier. Could be worse. You could really feel like crap.

Had some tea and brioche, took a shower and began hastily throwing my bag together. I had taken up one of my teachers on the offer to spend a day at her child's middle school, collège in French, after I had had to cancel last month to go get my immigration papers and by golly, I was going to stick to my word! As I'm about to race out of the door as I'm running about five minutes late, I happen to glance at the clock. I wonder why it says four thirty. Was there a power outage? I glance down at my watch. It, too, says four thirty. I check the alarm time setting. It appears that somehow I managed to set my alarm for fifteen minutes after I went to bed and still have another three hours before I need to be at the bus stop.

I was relieved that I realized this then. It would not have been fun to venture out into subfreezing temperatures only to find that somehow the Metro had broken down and walked all the way to the bus stop wondering why no one was out yet.

Part of me is afraid that I am developing early onset Alzheimers...but the fact that I recognize this is a problem is a good sign (right? right?)

Happily, in addition to lunch, the collège was happy to provide with with lots of free coffee. I spend most of the day with a heavily pierced guy with a German sounding name who kept barking out orders to his students about how he wanted questions from them for the assistant for participation points- and they'd better be grammatically correct- and standing around while nobody said anything. At least in the older classes. The younger ones were these bundles of unbridled energy that would stop asking me questions- while ten others were asking me questions, while I was trying to answer questions, etc. Usually needed the answers translated as well. I feel my French improves more during English class when someone is translating my responses.

One kept singing the theme song from Malcolm in the Middle. It was cute.

Anyway it was a nice change from my stone-silent 18-year-old Terminale Litéraire Spécialité Anglais students at eight in the morning...