I didn't get up until my alarm went off at ten, but I didn't necessarily sleep until it went off... It was still a little too warm last night even though it was much cooler than it had been recently since it rained all through yesterday. Joan was still home, so we had breakfast together, then we headed off to Sweet Briar so that I could catch my methodology class at two. I managed to make a pretty good metro flub that I'll disclose in a bonus post later, but we made it to school just fine. I found the Molière quote I'd like to get as a tattoo while I'm here last night, so Suzannah and I talked about tattoos for a long time. After talking to Rucy (going to Paris III with me and Joan) for a while, Suzannah and I headed up to Sweet Briar's floor to go to our methodology class...
There were girls that were smart enough to not only speak English while we were in Sweet Briar's barriers, but they did it in front of Mme. Grée's office. She came out and gave everyone in the hall a lecture that I can basically condense down to "you signed a pledge to speak French here, if you speak English all the time, your French won't get better, if you need to speak English, go outside and wash your mouths out with soap." My friends and I stay down on the first floor to speak English, so it's not too hard for us to speak French when we're in Sweet Briar. I don't understand why some people have issues with it...
Our methodology class was pretty fun. I didn't necessarily learn anything new about French professors or classes that I didn't already know, but I did learn some cool art history things. The professor went about 20 minutes over time, so that was annoying, especially because I really needed to go to the bathroom... Here's one notable thing I picked up. We all know how the American grading system works. We all strive for A's (and if we don't, something's seriously wrong), if we fall among B's, c'est pas grave, but we feel pretty dumb if we get C's, a D is a smack in the face, and in the words of Jean-Christophe Pralong-Gourvennec (the Art History professor at Sweet Briar, and the man who gave the class today), an F means suicide for American students. The French grading system is a little different. It's on a scale from 0-20, and the breakdown goes a little something like this:
20 - N'existe pas
19 - Dieu
18 - Prof
17 - The best grade a student can possibly get. (A)
16-14 - Super! (B)
13-10 - Great! (C)
9-7 - French version of a D, but it's not really bad. Apply the American reaction to a C here.
5-6 - Fail
3-4 - You wrote a great paper, but you wrote it on the wrong subject.
2-1 - You wrote the paper on the right subject, but you got the wrong answer.
0 - You just... didn't turn it in.
My new goal: Be God.
Our friends all went to the Eiffel Tower and had left before we got out of that class, so Suzannah and I had some errands to run. I stopped by a pharmacie to see if I could by some B12 and something to calm my itchy mosquito bites, and I did, but it was a little interesting, and you'll see why in a minute... Suzannah needed to buy some more credit for her SFR phone, so we stopped by the SFR boutique nearby, and Joan and her petit ami Stéphane were inside doing the same thing! Stéphane was helping Joan figure out the best plan, and he said he could help Suzannah do the same thing, so I headed home. Thank goodness he was there, this is a bit of a different process than what I have to do for my Orange mobicarte...
So I went home, and I figured I'd try to take my new vitamins. I opened the box and went... nope. I'm taping this before I try them. Thank god I did. It was kind of hilarious...
I have to hope the mosquitos all die within the week when I run out of the vitamins... There's another pharmacie near where we live, so if and when I run out (and need more), I'll go check there to see if I can get pills so I don't have to be deal with ampoules anymore... Sheila was home around the same time I was, but she was napping. Joan came home a couple hours after I did. Madame made salmon with a delicious cream sauce, rice, and broccoli for dinner tonight. Joan had brought her some flowers when she came home, so Sheila and I broke out our tiny gifts. I gave her the 48 flavor jelly beans (which she liked, but commented that they were bad for her derrière, too funny), and Sheila gave her this really cool key holder that had pictures of Honduran currency on it. After all that, I came back in my room, and Joan wanted to play a game of ratslap before bed. Because Sheila kept calling the cards "bitches," we've now started calling the game "slap a bitch." Oh boy...
We're going to check out the Louvre tomorrow and maybe go hang out with Stéphane and some friends of his. Should be a fun day!
Il est difficule de vaincre ses passions, et impossible de les satisfaire. - De La Sabilère