I heart Chekov plays in English. Vanya on 42nd Street is my favorite Wallace Shawn-Andre Gregory collaboration (film version of Uncle Vanya). I like it even better than My Dinner with Andre. And it has an actual famous actress is in it-- Julianne Moore plays Yelena, the young seductress married to the old professor.
I also heart Chekov plays in French. After Oncle Vania last week at the theatre in the round at Theatre de la Bastille, Evelyn and I decided that Chekovian humour translates well into French-- quiet tragi-comic afternoons at the country estate when in the course of your banal existance, you suddenly realise that you have no more money, and you've wasted your life and you spend the next 2 hours complaining about it and blaming others. Very Parisian. With lots of understatement. Did I mention that they also complain a lot?
For anyone not already familair with this charming personality trait, complaining and criticizing are essentially the main hobbies of all Parisians. The greastest compliment in the French language is to say you have nothing to say (j'ai rien a dire). It's implied that if you had anything to say, it would, of course, be critical (what else could possibly be worth mentioning?) Someone has therefore done something so incredibly well that there is miraculously nothing to criticize or complain about.
I guess I should spend my time seeing French plays in French; they do have some good playwrights, after all, but it somehow seems appropriately contradictory and contrary to see only Russian plays in French.
Some fun dialogue from Anton C. : it's a beautiful day. A beautiful day to hang one's self. (Vanya)
And: I am in mourning for my life. (Cherry Orchard)
J'ai rien a dire.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
La Princesse de Cleves fait greve
I really understand nothing about the current strike at one of my work places. In all fairness, some of the proposed reforms sound bad, like budget cuts (the public French university is already essentially bankrupt) and suppression of teaching positions. The main reason behind the current strike according to the professors is that the French governement wants to change teachers' status so that they're no longer state employees with lifetime job security. As a non-French person and non-functionnaire from a land where few human beings ever attain lifetime job security, I was never really convinced that all teachers should be state employees with lifetime job security no matter how mediocore a job they did (French job promotions are based more on national exam results than actual job performance), but if this is something you are currently lucky enough to have, you will obviously fight to protect it.
As one teacher pointed out, the strike is a "French cultural experience." I feel that the cultural experience of the education strike is similar to some other equally horizon-broadening cultural experiences, like waiting in line, being constantly required to give the French bureaucracy some new type of attestation, a RIB, ID photos and a birth certificate (French translation, of course-- how else would they know that you were indeed born somewhere on a specific date?) and being pushed on the metro. Here is what I've observed so far about the nature of education strikes.
If you are a professor organising a university strike at a certain university in the valley of Disneyland, you apparently do the following:
-Receive the entirety of your monthly salary despite not working for political reasons. Wish they'd mentioned that we'd be paid for doing nothing-- maybe then the foreigners would have signed up for caring about the future of French fonctionnaires...
-Hold a general assembly every day.
-Have a demonstration every Thursday.
-Grow tired of actually being on strike and start coming in to see your students during classtime to talk to them about your reasons for being on strike and do "alternative activites" which seem to comprise communication games and strike propaganda.
-Not worry that your dramatic stance to Save French Public Education is causing students to stop attending class and drop out of school. You're striking for their future, too.
-Send email to the students directly inciting them to revolution.
-Except that when they do revolt, the president closes the uni upon hearing of student threats to occupy university buildings and break things.
-Email homework to your students and tell them how concerned you are about how they will pass their final exams with good results and be sufficiently prepared for next year's classes.
-Have a 3-hour meeting every Monday morning that always comes to the same conclusion: continue the strike. It's also always unanimous. Like Tom Petty, the professors won't back down, gonna stand my ground.
-Organise a public reading of La princesse de Cleves in multiple languages. Naturally, this is the only next logical step. But where do we go from here? On to Flaubert?
As one teacher pointed out, the strike is a "French cultural experience." I feel that the cultural experience of the education strike is similar to some other equally horizon-broadening cultural experiences, like waiting in line, being constantly required to give the French bureaucracy some new type of attestation, a RIB, ID photos and a birth certificate (French translation, of course-- how else would they know that you were indeed born somewhere on a specific date?) and being pushed on the metro. Here is what I've observed so far about the nature of education strikes.
If you are a professor organising a university strike at a certain university in the valley of Disneyland, you apparently do the following:
-Receive the entirety of your monthly salary despite not working for political reasons. Wish they'd mentioned that we'd be paid for doing nothing-- maybe then the foreigners would have signed up for caring about the future of French fonctionnaires...
-Hold a general assembly every day.
-Have a demonstration every Thursday.
-Grow tired of actually being on strike and start coming in to see your students during classtime to talk to them about your reasons for being on strike and do "alternative activites" which seem to comprise communication games and strike propaganda.
-Not worry that your dramatic stance to Save French Public Education is causing students to stop attending class and drop out of school. You're striking for their future, too.
-Send email to the students directly inciting them to revolution.
-Except that when they do revolt, the president closes the uni upon hearing of student threats to occupy university buildings and break things.
-Email homework to your students and tell them how concerned you are about how they will pass their final exams with good results and be sufficiently prepared for next year's classes.
-Have a 3-hour meeting every Monday morning that always comes to the same conclusion: continue the strike. It's also always unanimous. Like Tom Petty, the professors won't back down, gonna stand my ground.
-Organise a public reading of La princesse de Cleves in multiple languages. Naturally, this is the only next logical step. But where do we go from here? On to Flaubert?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Students, apartments and chateau-neuf des papes
Life is a bit of a blur of prepping classes and attempting to charm new students-- be they CG artists, children, corporate lawyers or arms dealers...
Today, for example, is Saturday, but I now spend half the weekend-- Sat 10-16h-- with students, so feel a bit of the decalage with the normal weekend schedule world that I used to feel when I worked Tues-Sat at the animal shelter in Oakland. This just started, and part of me already misses my Saturdays, but I need the money. The Saturday folks are all pretty adorable, though, so in an odd way, it is kind of relaxing-- although still work. One of my students has already mentioned possible future translation jobs and I'm opportunistically hoping that this sudden new network of English students might help me find an apartment.
All my beginner English students have inspired me to learn German, I have a textbook with a CD, but I need to find a native German speaker willing to do German/English language exchanges with me. Not only will I learn something new, but I also think it's extremely important for all language teachers at all times to be able to put themsleves in the place of their students, as the language learner who has no idea what the question was, instead of the professor who asks the questions.
I feel very uninvolved with the university, despite it still offically (meaning fiscally) being my primary job. It was closed on Thursday because a band of rogue students announced their intent to occupy university buildings, disrupt classes and break things, so the president sent out a ludicrous email about the bande d'etudiants sauvages. After being throughly surprised that the university could become even more surreal and beckettian than it is already, I found it hilarious and promptly forwarded the message du president to all my friends, especially the ex-Marne colleagues.
I'm apartment hunting in earnest now and I've so far looked at 1 and loved it, but the timing wasn't right. It's still a little early to look for an apartment for May 1, but good to familiarise myself with the market and see how far my limited money will go. Everything costs so much-- life is expensive, and I'm already stressing about paying rent, a deposit and buying furniture and trying to think of ways to save money after the move, like cancelling my gym membership and changing to a cheaper cell phone plan. Am also prepared to sleep on the floor for awhile and furnish a new apartment over several months.
Ideally, I'd like to live in the 19th arrondissement near metro Jaures, since rents still seem affordable there, it's a safe area, unlike the 20th and near the canal st. Martin, 2 canal-side cinemas and the lovely park Butte-Chaumont.
Next weekend, I'll be in London for a friend's wedding and I'm looking forward to a little change of scenary. For her wedding present, I got a bottle of what France does best-- a chateauneuf des papes red. Jill and I got to be friends in Avignon (where the papes-- the popes-- lived and where the wine is from) during a summer study abroad program 10 years ago and I thought this bottle would remind her of our summer in the sunny south of France. I'm going to write in the card that she should let the bottle age for a year and then open it up to continue the wedding festivities and celebrate her first wedding anniversary. Besides watching Jill walk down the aisle, I'll also see some British friends and my godfather and hopefully, Camden, Brick Lane and a play at the theatre.
Today, for example, is Saturday, but I now spend half the weekend-- Sat 10-16h-- with students, so feel a bit of the decalage with the normal weekend schedule world that I used to feel when I worked Tues-Sat at the animal shelter in Oakland. This just started, and part of me already misses my Saturdays, but I need the money. The Saturday folks are all pretty adorable, though, so in an odd way, it is kind of relaxing-- although still work. One of my students has already mentioned possible future translation jobs and I'm opportunistically hoping that this sudden new network of English students might help me find an apartment.
All my beginner English students have inspired me to learn German, I have a textbook with a CD, but I need to find a native German speaker willing to do German/English language exchanges with me. Not only will I learn something new, but I also think it's extremely important for all language teachers at all times to be able to put themsleves in the place of their students, as the language learner who has no idea what the question was, instead of the professor who asks the questions.
I feel very uninvolved with the university, despite it still offically (meaning fiscally) being my primary job. It was closed on Thursday because a band of rogue students announced their intent to occupy university buildings, disrupt classes and break things, so the president sent out a ludicrous email about the bande d'etudiants sauvages. After being throughly surprised that the university could become even more surreal and beckettian than it is already, I found it hilarious and promptly forwarded the message du president to all my friends, especially the ex-Marne colleagues.
I'm apartment hunting in earnest now and I've so far looked at 1 and loved it, but the timing wasn't right. It's still a little early to look for an apartment for May 1, but good to familiarise myself with the market and see how far my limited money will go. Everything costs so much-- life is expensive, and I'm already stressing about paying rent, a deposit and buying furniture and trying to think of ways to save money after the move, like cancelling my gym membership and changing to a cheaper cell phone plan. Am also prepared to sleep on the floor for awhile and furnish a new apartment over several months.
Ideally, I'd like to live in the 19th arrondissement near metro Jaures, since rents still seem affordable there, it's a safe area, unlike the 20th and near the canal st. Martin, 2 canal-side cinemas and the lovely park Butte-Chaumont.
Next weekend, I'll be in London for a friend's wedding and I'm looking forward to a little change of scenary. For her wedding present, I got a bottle of what France does best-- a chateauneuf des papes red. Jill and I got to be friends in Avignon (where the papes-- the popes-- lived and where the wine is from) during a summer study abroad program 10 years ago and I thought this bottle would remind her of our summer in the sunny south of France. I'm going to write in the card that she should let the bottle age for a year and then open it up to continue the wedding festivities and celebrate her first wedding anniversary. Besides watching Jill walk down the aisle, I'll also see some British friends and my godfather and hopefully, Camden, Brick Lane and a play at the theatre.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Montre-moi l'argent
Due to the university where I teach in my primary job being completely bizarre because of an interminable strike (rant about that one coming soon), I've become more invested and interested in my other workplaces. I don't really have an individual other workplace-- instead of an office, I spend my days dutifully trotting across Paris to different peoples' houses or fancy corporate offices where I go to teach English. I hope to do the impossible with these motivated adult students and have them answering phones like a native English speaker, writing perfect emails, planning a wedding in English and landing new jobs that require English fluency. While these new challenges are good for me and I genuinely enjoy my new students, I also enjoy extra income. Like many Americans before me, I am also a cold, calculated capitalist-- just not one who works in sub-prime, but in sectors equally, if not more, morally dubious.
I will teach ANYONE English for money as evidenced by the fact that I had only faint moral qualms upon learning yesterday that my newest corporate clients are essentially arms dealers. When you live in expensive-beyond-belief-Paris, arms dealers' money is an good as anybody else's. In fact, they probably tend to have more of it than people who actually improve the world. Yes, I recognize that this probably means I no longer have a soul, but when you spend your entire salary each month, who can afford moral integrity? I would just like to not overdraw my bank account and afford a new apartment come May 1st. It's also a legitimate government business-- at least it's not illegal arms trafficking and they don't make landmines that maim and kill children and they probably use recylced paper.
Elaborate overjustification, perhaps, but sometimes it's hard to feel good about what I do in France. Arms dealer students aside, I know I wouldn't be qualified to teach in an American university; it's a total fluke that I can teach in a French one in a temporary position that only exists for native English speakers. Although teaching in a university might sound impressive to someone unfamiliar with the French public university system, it's essentially just 3 extra years of high school with surly, unmotivated teenagers, the majority of whom drop out. I never studied to be a teacher and have no ESL background and feel like a big fraud more often than I feel like a good teacher imparting important wisdom about vital issues like when to use the present perfect tense. In my private lessons, it sometimes feels extremely dishonest to take peoples' money for chatting with them for an hour in my native language.
As usual, guilt and self-doubt persist in my career choices-- or non-choices. It's more France who decided that I would be an English teacher, not me. I just couldn't complain because it meant I had a job. All this, of course, contributes to the on-going existential crisis and fuels the "what am I doing with my life?" fire. But at least I don't sell or manufacture weapons.
I will teach ANYONE English for money as evidenced by the fact that I had only faint moral qualms upon learning yesterday that my newest corporate clients are essentially arms dealers. When you live in expensive-beyond-belief-Paris, arms dealers' money is an good as anybody else's. In fact, they probably tend to have more of it than people who actually improve the world. Yes, I recognize that this probably means I no longer have a soul, but when you spend your entire salary each month, who can afford moral integrity? I would just like to not overdraw my bank account and afford a new apartment come May 1st. It's also a legitimate government business-- at least it's not illegal arms trafficking and they don't make landmines that maim and kill children and they probably use recylced paper.
Elaborate overjustification, perhaps, but sometimes it's hard to feel good about what I do in France. Arms dealer students aside, I know I wouldn't be qualified to teach in an American university; it's a total fluke that I can teach in a French one in a temporary position that only exists for native English speakers. Although teaching in a university might sound impressive to someone unfamiliar with the French public university system, it's essentially just 3 extra years of high school with surly, unmotivated teenagers, the majority of whom drop out. I never studied to be a teacher and have no ESL background and feel like a big fraud more often than I feel like a good teacher imparting important wisdom about vital issues like when to use the present perfect tense. In my private lessons, it sometimes feels extremely dishonest to take peoples' money for chatting with them for an hour in my native language.
As usual, guilt and self-doubt persist in my career choices-- or non-choices. It's more France who decided that I would be an English teacher, not me. I just couldn't complain because it meant I had a job. All this, of course, contributes to the on-going existential crisis and fuels the "what am I doing with my life?" fire. But at least I don't sell or manufacture weapons.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Desperately Seeking...
Apartment for May 1-- preferably legal and stable living situation without evil 400-year old non-French speaking concierge; charming, mature non-commitment phobic boyfriend for whenever, reliable healthcare, a local cafe where everybody knows my name (not that they'd be able to pronounce it...), a well-paying teaching job where I could maybe do all my hours in one conveniently-located place, instead of scampering around Ile-de-France giving English classes in every arrondisement, payment-- long overdue-- for overtime hours unknowingly worked last year when the university blatantly tried to take advantage of foreign teaching staff, the illusory feeling of being accepted in busy, crowded, waiting in line-oriented, indifferent to my plight Paris.
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