cinquante-sept: presque fini.
I think last Friday was my last day at school. This uncertainty pretty much optimises my experience as a language assistant.
Don’t get me wrong, I have quite enjoyed teaching English. My lessons on Friday reminded me of how much fun teaching can potentially be, even if I’m not sure if it’s the career path I am destined to take. Moments where I ask my students for the time and they respond by singing High School Musical or where I tell off some students in the corridor in French and return to a round of applause from my actual class. How can moments like this fail to make you warm to the idea of teaching?
It feels quite strange to think that in just over three weeks, I’ll be going home for good. No more Bordeaux. No more walking across the Pont de Pierre everyday to get to school with my massive cartable and laptop in tow. No more 12 euro formules allowing us to eat out cheaply on a regular basis. No more feelings of uncertainty when I go to school. No more creeps on the tram, in the street, everywhere. No more speaking French on a daily basis and forgetting what you wanted to say mid-sentence. No more homesickness. No more travel problems. No more wages.
I will be finished, and I will be happy. But a part of me will be sad. I have enjoyed this year so much more than I ever dreamed I would. Especially when I think back to 24th September in John Lennon Liverpool Airport, when I watched my parents and Martin disappear before me as I climbed more and more escalators towards the departure lounge. Back then I thought I would never come home.
But I am going home. And I’ll just find something else to complain about when that time comes. Comme toujours.
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claireruth posted this
