Lucky Day
Glasgow
Amélie
Eleven a.m., this is my free period. Before I start preparing my next period, I go to the staff room and fix myself a cup of tea. The French assistant isn’t here, this is my lucky day. I don’t really like her, and she is feeling homesick those days, with Christmas coming, I know this is a hard time for most assistants but why does she have to come to me for some comfort?
I come back to my classroom with my tea, turn my computer on. I get the Time magazine out of my handbag, I can allow myself a break after all. And there is this article I can’t wait to read, the death of French culture… What do they say about France?
Lots of critics actually… But isn’t it fair, considering French people are such critical persons? This is weird to hear about France from where I am. To read things about Sarkozy, far from the passionate opinions of French people. Abroad, he just seems to be a politician, with his ideas, bad or good, the situation looks so less desperate. I like this point of view, how people see us from outside is something I feel very much living abroad. That’s how I started thinking about where I come from, that’s how I realized I actually preferred how Scottish people live, think and feel about things. People don’t think enough about themselves in France. Is there any kind of self questioning over there? I like what Douglas Kennedy says about literature, American fiction dealing with the American condition, in one way or another. French writers don’t look at their own country. This journalist is pessimistic, telling how French can be proud, posh and snotty. Though, he does justice to what’s admirable in France. This is the country of culture, of Moliere and François Truffaut, of good wine and fashion. Of Potluck as well, I liked this film, it shows what made me leave France: adrenalin. But “success is considered bad taste”, and I don’t think intellectual people really fancy Potluck.
French culture doesn’t seem to be that doomed. Should I feel relieved? I know French are good and imaginative people. I left them, but I’m a French teacher, I still love the place I come from, the people I’ve been brought up with. They aren’t that bad tempered anyway. Well, most of the time.
I put my magazine aside, Let’s go back to Scotland, school and the work I’ve got to do. I start typing a text about home and hobbies, but someone knocks at the door. And Adam comes in, cute English teacher, new to the school… Well, I guess I have to help him out to get comfortable in his new school. Indeed, this might be my lucky day.