First and second days of school.

Ok. First things first- yesterday was great. Today was better. Tomorrow will be the best. I've finally started school, made friends, and I understand more French by the minute. French school is something of an enigma to me- different, difficult and dangerous, but desirable all the same. In France, high school is split into three years: deuxième, première, and terminale. Here, we count backwards from onzième (eleventh, and the equivalent of 1st grade in the States) to première (first, our juniors in high school) and finally terminale (final; senior). I am in première, even though I would be a senior in the US. Première is easier. That's all I needed to know when I chose it. Also, every grade level is split into three segments: Littérature, Science, and some other word I cannot remember. All I know is that it means Economy. I am in Littérature, because literature classes are going to help me the most with the language. And every segment of the grade is split into classes, like homerooms, because there are too many students to put them all in the same class. Therefore, my full class name is première L 2. You usually have most of your classes with your specific homeroom- that way, you get to know your fellow students better and feel better about interacting in class. So, without further adieu, I present to you my full class schedule:

Monday
8:00-9:50         Littérature Étrangère (British Lit)
10:10-11:05     Français (Take a guess...)
11:05-12:00     Histoire & Géographie
12:30-13:25     Italien

Tuesday
8:00-8:55         Espagnol
8:55-9:50         Histoire & Géographie
10:10-11:05     Free period
11:05-12:00     Italien
12:30-14:25     Free periods!!
14:25-15:20     Français
15:35-16:30     ***Espagnol Renforcé***
16:30-17:25     Français

Wednesday
8:00-8:55         Italien
8:55-9:50         Histoire & Géographie

Thursday
8:55-9:50         Histoire & Géographie
9:50-13:25       Free periods!
13:30-14:25     Français
14:25-15:20     Espagnol

Friday
8:00-9:50         Littérature Étrangère
10:10-14:25     Free periods!!!
14:25-15:20     ***Espagnol Renforcé***

Saturday
10:10-12:00     Français

*** Means it will be dropped or moved. Notice on Friday how I have one class that ends at 9:50 and another that begins at 2:25 in the afternoon. That is not going to pan out- I'd rather just go home.

Also, every class with the same name is with the same people. For example, look at Tuesday afternoon: I go to Français, then Espagnol Renforcé, then back to Français. Both of those classes are with the same students and the same teacher: the French system just throws classes wherever they will fit, regardless of whether you end up having that class once per day or three times.

Now that all of the administrative explaining of how school works is over with, I can move on to what actually has happened. As I said above, yesterday (Monday) was great. Today was better. And tomorrow will be the best. Monday was an oddly fun day. I got to my first class about five minutes late- I was looking for it on the wrong side of the wrong building. After asking a wayward teacher to escort me to class, I was left to knock, enter, and explain my tardiness all by myself. Luckily, my teacher was British- after all, this class was foreign literature. He then proceded to tell the class that I was "our resident American." In just so many words. I chose a seat at the back, and everyone stared at me. As I passed, a girl held out a book to me and said "take, borrow." I accepted. It turns out that everyone in the school, except for me, had started last Wednesday. Thus, this literature class had already received and read the assigned book. Everyone but me. So for two hours, I leafed through the rather basic-level book, all the while enduring stares from other kids and the occasional question about America from the teacher. After class, three girls volunteered to show me around, and to take me to the next class (in which all three of them were enrolled. Just like I said, the same people usually had the same classes, except for stuff like Spanish or Italian). French was bad- very bad. Not only was I introduced as the American again, but the teacher spoke so quickly and with such a heavy accent that it was impossible to understand. The girls who led me around later admitted that even they had lots of trouble figuring out what she said. To this point, I have had three hours of her class, and I have not understood more than two words: vingt-six. A page number. So that class is useless to me until I understand more French. Not that I truly care about grades here- I know what is more important. Finally, history- boring, useless, basic. Nothing interesting happened.
After history, I was free for the day (I had not yet entered into Italian). I had four hours before I had to get back to school to have a meeting with a school teacher and Célia about my schedule, and any proposed changes I wanted. So I went to the school cafeteria to eat, planning on probably sitting alone. However, much to my liking, a kid from my BritLit class started talking to me in very good English while waiting in line for food. Apparently, he had spent three months in Canada. He was also in the International section of the school, and most of his classes (even French lit) were taught in English. We talked, and he invited me to sit with him and his friends. I was just happy people weren't treating me like a pariah. After lunch, I left school (I know, its amazing! You can do it anytime you have free periods) and took a cable car down the hill to the le Havre downtown. I got a haircut (which I'm immensely satisfied with), finished my school shopping, and bought a new belt. Then, I took the car back up to my school and went to the meeting with my teacher, where I chose to drop all math, science, and P.E. classes in favor of extra Spanish and Italian. Next week, I will be adding a class called FLE (Français Langue Étrangère). It's comparable to ELL (English Language Learners). It's like a French class in the US. Here, French is literature and writing, just like English is to us. This class is specifically for exchange students (as the name suggests- étrangère means stranger. Here, I am an étudiant étrangère). That way, learning French will be much easier for me.
Today was cooler than yesterday. For one, at lunch, as I talked to the lady in charge of lunch money, the three guys I ate with on Monday walked by, said hi, and gave me the bro-shake. Then, as I was looking for a seat, they saw me, waved, and pointed to the seat next to them. I spoke more today, and offered information of my own whenever I could understand what they said.
In my Italian class, after the teacher took role, and noticed I had not been called, she asked my name. When I replied Austin Ford, she laughed, like most people here (Austin, which all of the French pronounce oh-steen, is their nickname for Mini Coopers. Coupled with my last name, Ford, I have two car names here in France. So EVERYONE laughs at my name, which is very embarrassing). Within two minutes, she knew I was an American, I spoke no Italian, and I could barely reply in French. So, she proceded with the lesson and generally ignored me. All the kids were asked to pronounce a line of Italian vocabulary, which they did with varying success. French and Italian are very different in pronunciation. In Italian, every single vowel is pronounced. In French, vowels mix together, and are often forgotten altogether (like the word étrangère- phonetically, it is pronounced ay-trawn-gair, with a soft g. The last e is completely dropped). Thus, these little French kids who were so unused to pronouncing vowels usually messed up every other word. Also, like in Spanish, the Italians roll the r whenever possible- something the French found very, very hard to do. The French r is difficult for me to make. It is a sound made by growling in the back of your throat while trying to make an r sound without touching your lips together. It is a sound we do not have in English. Rolling r's are just as hard to the French as the French r is to me. Fortunately, I have had four years of Spanish, and can roll r's perfectly. So when it came to be my turn to pronounce the two lines of Italian words, the teacher was surprised that I pronounced them all far better than these kids who had had two previous years of Italian. I then told her I'd taken four years of Spanish, and that catching up in Italian would be very easy for me. She became very, very happy after that.
So far I have listed the great things about today; now, I will mention the bad things. In history, the teacher asked me a very unfair question. She asked whether I thought the U.S. or Europe was more economically stable. This may not seem so horrible at first glance, but consider the implications: if I answered Europe, I would probably be lying. Also, in the eyes of the other students, I would be stabbing my country in the back, something I am determined not to do here, no matter how much negativity I encounter here. I might also be trying to curry favor with the teacher. If I answered the U.S., I would be an elitist, ungrateful of my host country, and continue the preconception that everyone in the U.S. feels themselves superior. So, I took the only neutral way out: after a moments thought, I answered, "Je ne sais pas." I don't know. I think it was wrong of my teacher to force me to choose between my countries. It certainly made me feel a little slighted.
The second bad experience occurred in my afternoon Spanish class. Soon after the lesson started, I realized that if I looked the teacher in the eye, she would ask me a question. Every time I looked her in the eye, without fail, she would ask me something. She never asked me a question while I was pretending to read the handout she'd given us. So when she said something that sounded like my name, I gave into the knee-jerk reaction, and looked up just as she looked at me. Straight in the eye. So she asked me a question, and I couldn't answer. That would have been fine, but for some reason I became a deer in headlights. Everyone was staring at me, the silly American who couldn't speak French or Spanish to say "I don't know." My face grew red (those of you who know me personally know exactly how red my face can become) and it grew hot. I stared down, unable to say "Je ne sais pas," or even "No sé." After a minute, the teacher realized what was going on and asked someone else. Everyone looked away, and I began to cool down. But I didn't look up for the rest of the lesson. After class, I went to the teacher and apologized, explaining how it had been two years since I'd had Spanish, and how I was still learning French. She agreed to take it slowly with me until I caught up with my previous level of the language.
So, in the end, the day was a success for me. Friends, a cool new language, and the comfort of a daily routine made the day quite enjoyable. So now I must bid adieu. It's ten here and I haven't slept very well lately, so I need to hit the hay. Expect another update within the next three to four days.