Seeing the World Around Me

 A common belief: Stand up straight. Make eye contact. It gives you confidence.

This, however, no longer holds true for me. 

As I walk down the streets of France, I have learned that keeping my head high could be dangerous, deadly even. I could become "that girl". Yes, the one who wasn't looking at her feet to avoid that brown pile of mush and now has it all over her shoes. In France, dogs do not seem to understand that the grass is for such private matters. Nor do their owners appear to know the common courtesy of picking up after their beloved pet has done the deed. So not only do I have a lack of confidence due to my below average comprehension of the language around me, but I can't even fool the passerbys on the street by looking them in the eye because my head is glued to the ground, in fear of what I could find myself stepping in.

Thoughts:

No butter popcorn in France!

• In the past week, I have attended two movies. For each, I had no problem following the plot despite only comprehending 50% of the words being spewed at me. But it’s funny how back home I would never notice how loud and distracting my own sound of chewing popcorn could be. I would never have the need to take out a dictionary to better understand what’s being said. I wouldn’t be wide eyed as words rapidly shot across the screen, unable to take it all in before they were gone. As opposed to being relaxed, watching movies in French feels more like homework. I hope to keep these experiences close to heart and by May, announce to you all that I laughed at every joke in the latest flick, all while boisterously chomping my bucket of kettle corn.
  
  

• PDA is so overdone here. I can barely stomach what I see in the halls. The passionate kiss exchanged between couples as they can’t stand to be apart during the next fifty five minutes. Hands groping back ends with no effort to even conceal it. I keep my eyes averted to the best of my ability.
  
  
• I have yet to understand the school system here. I’ve got this part down:
  
  
  seconde (tenth grade)
  première (eleventh grade)
  terminale (twelfth grade)
  
  
  But then they throw in acronyms and I’m lost again. LV4. 1S1! TBPC?! 1BPUS?!? Really now. It has something to do with the fact that this is both a general and technical/professional high school which in turn is why my students’ ages range from 14-23. And despite their efforts to explain this to me, I’m just utterly confused. I simply go where I’m told and don’t ask questions.
  
  
• My first week in Commercy, I would practically die as I walked past groups of students surrounded just outside the front gate of the school on their smoke break. While trying to sneak past even my youngest, secondes, getting their nicotine fix, I can’t help but wonder “does your mother know you’re doing this?” But this week, something wonderful happened. “Hello. Hi! How. are. you?” Were they talking to me? YES! The smiles and greetings from my students made my day a little brighter. I flash a smile in return, and keep walking, a little less horrified of making my way through the crowds, knowing that they’ve accepted what I have to give.