the french rhythm

It's inevitable that, with only a short time remaining (and I refuse to count the days), I start thinking about things I need to do upon my return aux States. Doctor, dentist, eye doctor and, most importantly, a long hair and gab session with Ryan. I'll need a car, but I think I can already check that off my pense-bête list. Lesson plans, committee meetings, professional responsibilities - just thinking about it stresses me out. Although I've accepted every single invitation this year (seriously!) I think I'm ready to start saying "No" to some things back home. When I expressed all this to Pierre and Laurence in la salle des profs this afternoon, Pierre said, "ah ha, you've adopted le rythme français." I reminded him that I didn't really have far to come in becoming Frenchified because just after my arrival, he was pleased to find out that I had an appreciation for French cheese and knew to drink a good glass of red wine along with it.

It's true that I've adopted a lot of French habits. I walk everywhere in town (nevermind that the car is en panne; I walked everywhere before). I eat French-style: a larger lunch at dinner, tea or un goûter when I get home for work, and a smaller, later dinner. Last night, I think it was after 9pm by the time I ate. A rare occasion, but it happens. I buy my bread fresh and take salades composées on picnics. I eat yogurt for dessert, not breakfast (favorite flavors: rhubarb, fig or mango). I keep apples from last fall in the basement for later use. Going on a walk doesn't mean on the sidewalk along the main roads, but out in the country, past the fields of grain or across a stream and up the top of a hill that overlooks a little village surrounded by golden rapeseed and green wheat, oat or barley fields. I remember to grab the papers for the car each time I drive, I've mastered the ronds-points but still panic with priorité à droite. I'm sure you'd all agree with me...that's the most dangerous traffic rule in existence.

But deep down I'm still American. FIRPA has me trained not to divulge students' grades to others; here, they kids demand that you read their averages out loud and must know who has the highest (and lowest) scores. The conseils de classe are coming up again, and I'm still not used to discussing students' progress with parent and student delegates present. In the middle of serious conversations with my friends, I've found myself saying, "Now, remember I'm looking at this from an American perspective. Here is how I see it." And not only that... sometimes I find my thoughts affected by the fact that I grew up in the Bible Belt - yet another concept I've had to explain several times this year. I can't seem to erase that little voice that asks, "What will others think?" Really? Who cares? Here, it's just none of their business. It reminds me that when I moved to small town Oklahoma, I was advised to buy my beer and liquor in another town (not that I buy that much. See, Bible Belt upbringing combined with Catholic guilt. Can't have you thinking I indulge in those kind of vices). Here, sometimes I wonder if I'm being judged by a) not having a bottle of wine in my caddy or b) buying the wrong bottle of wine.

Next year's challenge will be trying to maintain my new rhythm. I'm interested in alternatives to driving to work, but am daunted by the Oklahoma heat (and cold). Walking to the store with my orange IKEA caddy is tempting...Maybe I'll start with the produce section at Braum's and work up to Buy for Less later - unless there's been a new, closer supermarket built in my absence. I know I can't have Wednesdays off, but would like to learn how to spend a little less time at school (without it affecting my productivity, of course). No more nine- or ten-hour days, because fifty hours a week is just plain too much. Travailler plus pour gagner... well, rien isn't logical.