One day and two classes in a real French university and this is what I have to show for it: a story by the lovely Daymiris Gell (and I quote)...

* * *

"Once upon a time... (17h00)
in a land far, far away... (Paris)
there were four little princesses, Daymiris, Gina, Katherine, and Emily (D, G, K, E)
who were on a quest for knowledge and truth (finding classes).

While on their quest, they stumbled upon a labyrinth-like wilderness (Institute Catholique). All things in this uncivilized world were unfamiliar and confusing to our heroines (!).

However, they were determined to find their way and not let this strange land overtake them. Together, they were a powerful force to be reckoned with.

One day in this horrible forest, D G K + E came upon a cave (room B20) where there lived a terrifying dragondactile (Monsieur Giret). The fire and smoke he emitted from his alien-like mouth (stutter, weird accent, mutter under breath, etc.) blinded the girls (can't understand a thing he's saying) and caused them to choke (we're dying here, let's get out!)

Disillusioned and exhausted, they were stuck in this cave full of hyenas (blabby French kids) until Father Time came to set them free (17h30!!!) Until this salvation, however, they had to stay and were forced to wonder what would become of their futures and their kingdoms (classes?!?!)

Will the four princesses succeed?

TO BE CONTINUED... (À SUIVRE)

* * *

Thanks to Dayday for that lovely contribution. That, and another 5 pages of a combination of note-passing middle-school-style and journal entries, was the fruit of my experience in French education thus far. After being called out as a "nouvelle" (new student) in my morning class, which I was in by myself without anyone from Tufts (and which turned out to be a yearlong class that I jumped into in the 14th week, sweet), it's a wonder I even made it back to the university for another shot at a class in the afternoon. The morning interaction went something like this (in French):


Professor: Look! New student! (points at me and asks a bunch of unintelligible questions)

Me: (Does she expect me to say something? Am I allowed to disappear?) Euhhh... I'm American and I'm here for the semester.

Everyone else in the class: (whisper whisper giggle chatter collective sounds of judging)

Me(mental note): never coming back to this class again. (Then spent the rest of the hour and a half that remained pretending to take notes while in fact jotting down observations about the Frenchies in my class. Exhibit A: girl in front of me is on facebook. Also, the popular myth that French students don't take notes on their laptops is FALSE. There were 5 computer culprits in my class of 30.)


And that was that. Basically, I am pretty convinced that higher education in Paris is an excuse for old, senile men to talk themselves to death and for the chatty French youth to gather and exchange gossip. Which then translates to us unsuspecting American exchange students as torture. Hopefully trying out other classes will prove me wrong.