Madame

I am working in two vocational high schools on the island. Lycee Hotelier is a culinary school with a very serious career preparatory program. Some of France's greatest cooks come out of institutions like this. The best part of the whole place is a little bakery on campus where all of the "practice" bread and pastries are sold to the teachers. For a nominal fee I can by a decadent tart that is decorated with two crooked pieces of apple. You just can't lose. The other school is Lycee Vue Belle, also known as Lycee 9 mois (for the pregnancy epidemic that exists there). It is a much tougher crowd and the kids are more likely to give me the run around. In both cases I am only a few years older than the students and they see me as either their peer, an alien, or a potential love interest. I know this because they talk about me (and don't realize I speak French--should I spring the news on them at the end of the year!?).

Mostly my job is to encourage conversation and urge them to speak English. The most popular words that students like to work into any given sentence are "Sexy," "Hot Mama," and "Do you have boyfriend." I am becoming ruthlessly skilled at cutting teenage boys down to size. Obviously the best part of the job is working with the really serious students. Many and most have never left the island and they dream of traveling to the United States (New York specifically). I am really touched by the ones who make an effort.

The biggest surprise is being called "Madame." I always look around for the buxom 50-something behind me before realizing that apparently I just aged 30 years. I've noticed that most of the students have been trained to think well within the box and, therefore, calling a teacher by her first name is not possible. The beginning of every class is the same: I write my name on the board, pronounce it 5 times slowly, and encourage students to repeat after me. "Now what's my name?" response: "Marsha." From boy in back of classroom: "Madame, do have boyfriend?"

Failure.

Lycee Vue Belle