So how about a little update on how my Wednesdays are working out with my band of French teen-age boys? How do I give you an idea of how it's going in layman's terms?
Okay, well they hate me. All of them. So far I have been called a rainbow of French insults, have been punched in the back, shoved, and have been told to eff off on several occasions.
And call me sick but it just tickles me.
Wednesday has be the source of my ultimate amusement dealing with these miscreants that dream of going to New York or California one day, who listen only to English-speaking pop music, and watch American films dubbed over in French. These little fuckers fail to make the one connection that all of these things have in common: English. And if they spoke and understood it (enter my part in this mess), then perhaps they could enhance their experience with their favorite hobbies. But no. They would rather resist me at all costs, wasting hours arguing with me that they don't have to study English, because their logic is that their parents just pay some American chick to sit in their living room on Wednesdays.
So the second Wednesday under this arrangement was particularly challenging where they were looking for any excuse not to work. I have to say, they are getting more creative by the week with their reasoning. One excuse not to study English was that one of them had heard me on the phone with Aurélien, and hearing me speak French with my American accent confused him, therefor he was unable to work. He actually called his mom to explain this and her. The two of us had a good laugh once the phone was passed to me. Kids really do think adults are idiots.
Worried that I was losing control over them and not sure how I could handle it every Wednesday because I can't call the parents every time there is a problem, and my hands are literally full from confiscating their iPads, iPhones, Wii manettes, cell phones, and pagers (kidding, just checking if you're paying attention.) With these guys I had to think out of the box. But what?
Then it hit me.
Blackmail.
Of course!
I had to find a way to blackmail them into doing their English homework. But what could I possibly blackmail them with?
And then, a golden opportunity was handed to me on a silver platter.
During a break I gave them, I handed them back their electronic devices and told them they could do what they want. Settled on the couch across from them, with an issue of their mother's Biba Magazine and a cup of green tea, I was prepared to enjoy my fifteen minutes without arguing. But what was happening mere feet away proved to be far more entertaining than reading about the myths of cellulite cream (as if any of us really believe that a cream will remove thigh dimples.)
On their phones, they have an application for the television show The Voice where it's simply karaoke that you sing into the phone, but in order to get points you have to hit all of the notes. Pretending to be detached from their free time activity, like a cat, I tiptoed over to my bag, quietly grabbed my phone and back on the couch, hit record. I have one singing Rhianna's "Make Me Feel (Only Girl)", another doing his take of Nikki Manaj's "Turn Me On" which includes a lyric demanding, "my body needs a hero, come and save me" and for the finale was a group effort of Katy Perry's "Firework". Please, I urge you to listen to that song in particular and imagine French teen-agers struggling to hit those notes, accents and all.
Next on the mission was who was I going to threaten to show these videos to. Their parents would just think it was cute (it really was), so I needed to take it to the next level. Who would these boys not want seeing these videos? It was easy.
Girls.
There is a Fanny, a Mathilde, and an Aimé that they relentlessly talk about, and with little effort, I retrieved one of their phones and copied the numbers down of the French fillies.
The rest of that afternoon as well as the past Wednesdays have been manageable, not great, but not bad enough to pull out the big guns. They don't yet know that I have these videos but look forward to the day that they really push me over the edge and to see the looks on their faces when they realize that I have embarrassing videos of them singing like little girls. And yes, I've made copies. Sure, it's a little evil but teaching English in Paris is a matter of survival of the fittest, and it looks like I'll be coming out of the juggle still standing. (Enter evil laugh.)
Bon week-end à tous !
