French Postcards: Les Sables d'Olonne

Postcard therapy.

When last we left, I was making many rushed sentences about a bad day at work, so rushed that I tottered among multiple tenses and unclear pronouns to express my bewilderment about...

And then Mike was out of the shower so the rest of the story (which was only being framed - awkwardly - by the tale of Little Johnny) was left for later. It's like if Chaucer only wrote about everyone sitting down in the pub before the pilgrimage, then he wandered into the pub himself and never returned. And never fixed those cringey errors. How I envy all of you bloggers who bother to fix them. I bet this inindifference tastes minty and refreshing.

As anyone who has ever slept on it understands, I'm far more mum today. Not mum enough to delete, but mum enough to hum quietly. To sip orange-banana juice. To look at postcards.

The events of the past 26ish hours since last we left shall now be coyly revealed as we discuss... LES SABLES d'OLONNE.

This card was sent on the 28th of August, 1986, to Mrs. J. Wood of 2 Burnside Cottages, Wix (Wix?), near Manningtree, in Essex. If a baby had been born that day, then emigrated to America where the legal drinking age is 21, and that baby - whom we will call "Annette" - and I went out for a drink on that day, it would've been after my second day of teaching freshies this year. I would've been far more starry-eyed than I am now. There would be no hint of times to come where admins boggle me two days in a row with behavior that seems both friendly (unlike yesterday) and insulting (like yesterday).

The card starts innocuously enough: WEDNESDAY.

(This means the card was actually written on the 27th. Do you know what I was doing on the 27th of August, 1986? Probably sitting in a quiet, carpeted hallway upstairs at Clements HS in Sugar Land, TX, far away from anyone who might ask why I wasn't at lunch. There I always was, sitting against the wall, reading a book. When the rare teacher did walk by, they just assumed I had permission to be there - what student would sit in the hall and read if they weren't allowed? Maybe, like today, they were just happy that I was reading. Not that this would fly at my school, where I think I'm still happy, although I'm feeling underimpressive.)

"Dear Judith and Lydia, We arrived at our camp site yesterday. It's a splendid site with every possible facility. On the way down we stayed at two Hotels and enjoyed some French cuisine.

"Now going to have some goats cheese, French bread and red wine! See you soon, Love Rosemary and Geoff."

I think it ends with two little Jesus-fish. Maybe it's just an ornamental flourish. Maybe it's both.

Things that are not splendid:

• South Point's Garden Buffet when they don't have cream of mushroom soup or the pasta station fired up
• Doing a better "by the book" job than ever this year, with regards to following state/district/school/department standards, calling parents, documenting every step, and providing differentiated learning for 40 people through a variety of activities, five times per day, yet suddenly being smacked with the cold, wet, non-Jesus fish of passive accusations and self-doubt.
• Students who still question the theory that interacting with the material (by studying it, reading it, listening to it, sculpting it, cooking it, something) is linked to success. See also: Students who tell you that, you don't understand, they need this grade for (sport), and, you still don't understand, they don't have time to study, because do you know how much time sport takes up? (I've heard this four times so far.)
• Thinking you're being light and encouraging with a student, only to have them say, "Why are you flirting with me, miss?" Oh, forgive my gender-neutral pronoun, I meant, "only to have her say." However quick you are with authoritative bewilderment, it's not quick enough. Even the idea of a teacher flirting with a student... blech. Plus, I'm unhappy because I keep getting this vibe that the kids think I'm a lesbian. (Not that there's... etc.) Normally it would just be amusing, but right now I'm not into being misunderstood or being insulted (according to their values, not mine)

Things that ARE splendid:

• Rosemary and Geoff's campsite
• possibly Judith and Lydia
• a former student who, when hailed from the doorway, quickly ran to the office because you had a pair of hands coming out of your classroom ceiling
• that the freshmen could also see the hands (total mental snappage remains at bay)
• when the hands belong to an unexpected construction worker up in a crawlspace, and not to our own Bad Ronald
• pilsner glasses
• co-workers who assure you that everyone has trouble with the admins eventually + co-workers who hint that, being in the 4th year now, you were overdue for admin/teacher conflict + co-workers who are equally boggled + co-workers who check on you later
• seeing Barry Manilow at the Hilton from the 5th row, while twirling a feather boa and waving a glowstick