| Bobble-Head Jeremy |
| It was Monday morning and Jess and I were on an early morning train to Marseille because after a week and a half we were still homeless. This train ride was especially nerve-wracking because I planned to make introductions at my school that afternoon. . .alone! You might think that, seeing as to how brilliant I am, after a week and a half in France I would be speaking the language like a native but alas this was not the case. The night before was a sleepless cramming session with Jess drilling me on all the things I might need to say during my introduction, and me nervously repeating them. After the studying Jess drifted off to sleep while I stared at the ceiling replacing the sheep in my head with bounding French verb conjugations. During the hour train ride Jess and I continued to practice, but the only thing I could seem to recall was "Voici 'mes documents" (Here are my papers). Our plan was to spend the morning searching for housing before meeting with my school. Jess spent the day in phone booths calling a seemingly endless list of renters, while I waited on a nearby park bench practicing my French and thinking about my upcoming meeting. Jess would return every so often always with news like, "The place has been rented for a month" or "The place only answers phone calls from 9:00 AM to 10:00 AM". When Jess finally exhausted the list of phone numbers she returned thinking it was time for my rendezvous. Seeing as to how neither of us has ever taken to wearing a watch, Jess saw this as a great opportunity for me to practice my French-speaking skills and persuaded me to ask someone the time. While walking toward the first person I spotted I rehearsed the statement in my head. I timed my steps so that I would reach the woman so I would not have to break the cadence of my thoughts. The timing was perfect and I only needed to put a voice to the words that were rolling around in my head. I then spit out the phrase and she understood it perfectly and told me the time! I was shocked by the idea that I had just said something that seemed like gibberish to some random lady in some random park in Europe and she understood me. I thought myself to be pretty cool. I excitedly ran over to Jess to relay the information. She asked, "Well, what time is it?" I responded "I have no idea, I couldn't understand a word." It was on that note that we then proceeded to my school. |
| When we arrived at the school I was so nervous I could barely breathe. With my finger outstretched pointing at the buzzer I was paralyzed. All I could hear in my head was "Voici mes documents" over and over again. I took three deep breaths and then three more. I was on the verge of collapse or tears or both when Jess said, "Do you want me to go in with you?" I proudly responded "No" as my voice cracked like that of a fifteen year old boy. Knowing that I really meant yes, Jess gave me another opportunity for assistance by saying "Are you sure?" I knew this was my last chance for help, so I quickly silenced my ego, and enthusiastically said yes. She said fine but warned me that it was only as moral support. I was to do all of the talking. I then took three more deep breaths and rang the bell, a buzz sounded and we pushed our way in. I heard voices say something, even now I have no idea what, but I responded like a champ with one of my well-rehearsed lines---"Bonjour. . .um. . .je suis, um, assistant anglais." The lady belonging to the voice quickly directed me to an office located on the first floor. (I really had no idea what she said but Jess was nice enough to translate for me). We walked up the stairs, found the office and entered. Inside was a confusing mess of milling teachers, students, social workers, and one secretary assigned to answer everyone"s questions. Catching the eye of the secretary I stumbled my way through the same above rehearsed line and she quickly responded. Again I have no idea what she said, but I gathered by how busy the office was that she wanted me to wait for a minute. |
| While waiting I anxiously watched the operations of the office. It was a pretty large office for France, decorated with educational posters much like the attendance offices in US public schools and run by a skinny, short-haired woman with a face a stoic as a statue. She was fielding questions left and right, giving them abrupt answers, quickly dismissing people from the office like bad air. Although I didn't know what their conversations were about, by the reaction of the questioners I gathered she was not a nice lady. After the others fled the office she called me over to the desk and began speaking. Having no idea what she was saying I did what had gotten me this far and continuously nodded my head so she continued talking thinking I was understanding. All of a sudden she stopped talking and everything was silent. I guessed this was where I was supposed to say something but I did not know what to say. I didn't even know she asked a question. After a silence that seemed like an eternity Jess discreetly elbowed me and said, "She asked you your name". Once over the whole name obstacle, she pulled out a folder filled with the same useless papers I had brought with me in a similar folder. She again started speaking and handing me the papers from the folder. I of course took them and began bobbing my head once again. After doubling my pile of useless papers I was introduced to the vice-principal, a rather tall woman with blondish hair and a face painted with many bright colors who turned out to be rather nice. She spoke to me as if I understood and finding no reason to dispel her illusions I responded in my usual nodding fashion. After she finished I introduced her to Jessica and they had a nice chat (about what I have no idea). We then said thank you and politely said goodbye. On the way out I asked Jess what the vice-principal had said and she told me I was to have a tour of the school and a meeting with the director of the English department in a weeks time. I left relieved, confused, anxious, hopeful, determined, and queasy---not what you would hope from a first day at work but not altogether bad for an illiterate bobble-headed mute. |
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