I swear it's a concidence. Air emanates from my speakers every time I decide to write a blog entry. This time it's ephemeral -- I'm listening to the radio. So now Seal is on. I just thought it was pretty weird; this is the third or so time that I've been listening to Air while blogging.
Speaking of coincidences, in this morning's mail I received two small packages of CDs. I'd been expecting the one -- a friend had copied a couple of David Sedaris CDs for me. The other package was a total surprise: it was a compilation from the very friend who introduced me to Sedaris's work. Three years ago for my birthday he sent me a copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day. That was a surprise gift too. I have cool friends, don't I?
This afternoon I had a parent-teacher meeting at the parent's request. I was a bit nervous because I'd heard that this particular father was very strict, and I thought he was going to get all on my case for not being a strict enough teacher. Au contraire, he was a lovely, cordial man who just wanted to let me know that he agreed with the type of punishment I'd given, and that the message had been received loud and clear. Another nice surprise.
On the way home from work I started listening to David Sedaris "Live at Carnegie Hall" and almost had an accident because I was laughing so hard. Well, not really, but I decided I'd better be careful. I decided to go directly to school to get the kids instead of going home first, so I got there with a half an hour to spare. I parked the car and continued listening to Sedaris. Passersby must have thought I was nuts. I laughed so hard I cried. It was great.
The French have started teaching English in the elementary schools, and this year the program was extended into the 3rd grade. C. gets to go listen to a French woman teaching English. It bores her to tears. She came home once and told me that the teacher said "toh-MAH-toe". I explained that that was okay. Then I saw her notebook. The teacher had given a handout with pictures of different foods, with their names in English. So far so good, la trace écrite est primordiale. Except the teacher took the P from raspberry and added it to grape, so the kids are learning rasberry and grappe. AND she used the French word for pineapple: ananas.
The French wonder why they're so bad at foreign languages. There are lots of reasons, but starting 8-year olds off learning errors won't help matters.
Last night I awoke to the deep rumbling of thunder. I lay there and listened, wondering where the lightning was striking, and if it was striking the ocean waters. There is a passage in Life of Pi that describes lightning at sea. I hoped my kids wouldn't be scared and want to come into bed with me. Selfish thought, but it was hot enough with two bodies in the bed. This morning C. told me she had heard the thunder and was a bit scared because it was "louder than the cinema." T slept through it all.
As I lay there listening, I ran through a list of things I wanted to blog about, and of course I can't remember a single item now. I'll have to keep a stack of Post-Its on my nightstand or something for that kind of late-night rumination.
Thinking: It's Miller Time. I mean Pelforth time.
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