And, upon crossing the Sea, thou shall be the job-spangled woman

Two weeks ago, when this blog was only an idea, I thought this message would be something like "On the third morning, God invented five-day weekends and blogging".

But no... I know too many benevolent people, and the jobs seem to keep pouring down on me.

When I came back from Exeter, with all the pieces of my broken dream, I buried my head in my love cushion, made of all these people soft as feathers, and I cried softly, but steadily. An overflow of loneliness, fear and disappointment... For a time, I was more an eclipse than a full circle that brightens your nights.

And then my very own Fairy Godmother rang me up. She works for a school-like administration that teaches unemployed adults, to help them find a new job, and their English teacher being sick, they were looking for someone to cover his leave. CV, interview, job. 10 hours a week with a group of a dozen adults.

And then my boss in the high school where I work (my job there doesn't translate in English, it really is half way through a secretary and a baby-sitter for teenagers), suggested to our Head of School that I could be the English teacher she had been desperately looking for for weeks, as a group of 34 students had to be split in two, should their teacher want to survive the year. Smile, handshake, job. 4 hours every other week with a group of 17 bouncy teenagers.

And then that same boss offered me to teach additional French lessons to one of our kids, slowed down by a neuro-physical handicap. Timetable check-up, nod, job. 2 hours every other week with a tall and smiling boy.

Plus my 18 hours as a surveillante.

I started one of the jobs this very morning, another one last Thursday, and the last one will sart this Friday.

I haven't yet found answers to my fears, I haven't yet decided what I want to do with my life, I haven't yet come up with satisfactory definitions for notions such as success, failure, self-development, achievement, but I don't give a damn, I really don't have time for that!!
As soon as I have taken in my new pace, I will tell you little stories with an aftertaste of absurdity and derision, directly inspired by the people I work with (and believe me, there's a lot to NOT take seriously..!!)


Oh, but look up, wouldn't that be a necklace of Little Princes learning English with a smile winking down at us?

Genèse (ter), ou comment je suis devenue la fille au mille boulots

Ce post aurait dû s'appeler: Genèse (ter), ou pourquoi j'ai le temps de me lancer dans un blog vu que j'ai 5 jours de libre par semaine.

Raté! Ca m'apprendra à être entourée de gens qui pensent à moi et me dégotent des boulots sans que j'ai à rien faire!!

Quand je suis rentrée d'Exeter, avec mon rêve tout déchiré, j'ai semé mes larmes sur mon "coussin affectif", tous ces gens doux comme des plumes sur lesquels je peux poser ma lourde tête de temps en temps, pour mieux rebondir. J'ai versé toute mon angoisse, à long et à court termes, ma déception, ma solitude. Pendant un temps, ma lune a été plus Pierrot triste qu'astre qui illumine vos nuits.

Et puis ma Marraine-la-Fée à moi m'a appelée, pour me signaler que son entreprise, qui propose des formations à des adultes en recherche d'emploi, cherchait un formateur en anglais pour assurer les cours pendant le congé maladie de leur prof habituel. Un CV et un entretien plus tard, me voilà donc avec un groupe d'une douzaine d'adultes 10heures par semaine.

Et puis ma CPE un peu maman-poule universelle, dans le lycée où je me délecte du langage fleuri de nos cités depuis un an, a suggéré mon nom à la Proviseure en mal de prof d'anglais pour un groupe de 34 apprentis comptables ou secrétaires, que leur prof cherchait désespérément à couper en deux (le groupe, pas les apprentis). Et me voilà avec un groupe de 17 loulous et louloutes, 4heures toutes les deux semaines.

Et puis, toujours la même CPE m'a proposé de donner des cours de soutien en français à un autre élève, qu'un problème neuro-moteur rend plus lent que ses charmants camarades. Et me voilà avec un élève, 2heures toutes les deux semaines.

En plus des mes 18heures (sur deux jours) de pionne.

Les cours d'Anglais pour les apprentis, ça a commencé la semaine dernière; les cours pour les adultes ce matin; et le soutien en français vendredi.
Pour l'instant, ça n'a pas encore résolu mes angoisses à long terme, sur la direction de ma vie ou sur le sens que je décide de donner aux notions de succès, d'échec, d'épanouissement, mais je m'en fous, parce que de toutes façons, j'ai pas le temps d'angoisser, ni de me sentir seule ou déçue!
Quand je me serai adaptée au rythme, je vous promets des histoires qui fleurent bon la dérision, directement inspirées des différent publics que je côtoie dans mes boulots.


Oh mais regardez, ce serait pas un bouquet de Petits Princes qui apprennent l'anglais en souriant qui nous font un clin d'oeil depuis là-haut?

Thank you Julia!

I know. You want to hear what happened next, after the dream-not-come-true episode. I'll write about it very soon.
But tonight, before going to bed, I am desperate to share with you all the fantastic lesson Julia has just taught me.

A few hours ago, my homemade quiche and I were about to be eaten/eat when we decided it'd be nice to have someone over for dinner. After a few hesitations, we set our minds on Julia Roberts, Cameron Diaz, and two wannabe-hot guys (WHGs).
Julia is in love with WHG1, who is also her best friend, but he himself sort of plans on marrying Cameron, who has asked Julia to be her bride's maid. They're all in Chicago, where WHG1 and Cameron live, and are getting married. Julia is not happy. She calls WHG2, her editor in NYC, to tell him about her not being happy. WHG2 surprises Julia by flying over to Chicago. How nice of WHG2!! Yeah, but he's gay...
Anyway, Julia does all kinds of weird and evil things to prevent WHG1 from marrying Cameron. Yet, we like her still, because it's in the name of true love. WHG2 says she should confess her feelings to the groom, even though she shouldn't expect him to change his mind about the identity of the bride. She follows the advice, and kisses WHG1. Only Cameron witnesses the whole scene. Then Julia and Cameron have a fight in the toilet of a stadium, but they hug in the end. Next thing we know, WHG1 is waiting in his best suit in front of an altar, and blinds all the other people in suits or suspiciously lavender dresses with his Colgate Smile. Cameron then walks down the aisle in a white dress and with a funny white fishnet on her face.
WHG2 isn't here. He fucked off a while ago to complete his duties as an editor in NYC.

At the wedding reception, Julia is all alone at a table. Her ancient mobile rings.... It's WHG2. He says :"I can picture you in your lavender dress, with your cake still untouched in front of you, bla bla bla." We are all a bit surprised, because in fact, it sounds like he's DESCRIBING her, and not PICTURING her. But he's in NYC..?! Ha, no, in fact, he's right here, and he asks Julia to dance, but he reminds her that he is gay.
And then, he says something like:
"We might never get married, we might never have sex, but we will definitely dance".
And then, Julia, and all the people around her, are very very happy, and they laugh, and they smile, because they are all dancing.

Well, screw the hunt for love, I'm enrolling in a gay ballet first thing in the morning...

On the second morning... :"Reality, we have a problem!"

Breaking up with Uni felt really good, like fresh air after a whole day in a gloomy open-space cubicle, where neon lights play the sun and electric fans the wind.

All of a sudden, it was OK to open my imagination to new horizons, to envisage new ambitions. I actually started ...dreaming!!... Maybe I could try to go back to Britain, to look for what I liked so much there. Maybe I could try to apply for jobs there, and enjoy the open-mindedness my own country lacks so much.

Quickly enough, my little dreams started flying around. Exeter Uni, my old flame, was looking for a French teacher. Amazing how I corresponded to the description of their ideal applicant. Wonderful that I could fly out easily for the interview, should I be shortlisted. Fantastic that my British friends would all be back from their year abroad.
I filled out the application pack, they invited me to an interview. Being in Exeter made me feel like I could still belong here. The streets were familiar, people were still friendly and helpful. The interview went well.

And right there, at the peak of my dreaming ecstasy, an unexpected arrest. Damn it! The ambition police!
"Miss, can we please see your dreaming licence?
-Erm, yes, sure, erm, here 'tis...
-Miss, you can't dream so fast! You failed to take the reality check-up exam. You need a visa from the Down-to-Earth Office. You'll be fined. You'll have to pay us back in two different payments. Please be more careful now."

The first bit of the fine was a massive panick attack. What if I felt just as lonely here? What if leaving my closest friends and my family while I still felt a bit shaky from the break-up was a huge mistake? What if I wasn't worthy of my dream?

The second payment was the outcome of the interview. We want to give you the job of your dreams, but only you'll have to share it with someone else, and we are not offering you enough for you to be able to support yourself. If you take the job, your dream will come true, but you'll also have to struggle to find a way to meet your living expenses. What is more important to you: a great job in a motivating work atmosphere, in a city that you love, or a steady financial situation?

I got the bloody visa from the Down-to-earth Office. I didn't go. I can't deal with hardships and debts. It was too risky, and I needed comfort, materially and emotionally. I stayed with my closest friends and relatives, even though the range of possibilities is much more limited.

"Aahh, miss, but what were you thinking, dreaming like a lunatic? You can't ask for the moon...
Come on, here, blow your nose now, and think about it all, ok?"
grrmpphhmphh... ain't bothered, i'll do it again anyway...