Chronically Awkward

Boys

Now for you to fully understand the 'sugar and spice and everything nice' process that goes into making young Quebecois boys into young Quebecois men, something needs to be clarified. For all you lot who keep asking me- 

So, who have you met in Canada?

or

So, what's Canada saying?

or

So, what's new in Canada?

You all are under the illusion that where I live, the male population walking around Quebec (all areas excluding Montreal, which is the New York of Canada #imo) look like this:

When really, the vast majority of Quebecois boys (that I've seen) grow up to look like this:

Sorry guys, the image you have in your head belongs on a runway, not reality. 

Anyway, I said all that to say that the whole 'look' can be boiled down to some basic elements. And the training to put this look together, and basically succeed at life and own adolescence, starts from around grade 5. No better place to see it get executed to perfection than at a school disco. So, let's have a look at what I learnt from les gars:-

Maple Syrup Trip

Right, so pre-Easter my most exciting escapade was going maple syrup collecting with some of the LBG. This basically consisted of me risking my very non-expendable only child life climbing all over snowy hillsides that may as well have been mountain sides (everybody knows we only children like to exaggerate and amp up our descriptions to highlight how special we are, so allow me).

It was actually really interesting though. I'm not gonna lie, I sincerely thought they would stick some kind of tap/funnel/tube thing into the tree and maple syrup sap would just sludge it's way out. For all those who were sadly misinformed like me, check ben ça: 

Special thanks to my lovely assistant, and 5 points to anyone who can spot the moment where he airs (ignores) my question lol. So yea, maple syrup starts off as maple water, then it has to be boiled down into the good stuff. 

That was probably one of my most enjoyed experiences de la vie québécoise. I would have taken more photos of the farm etc but I was too busy trying to hold onto the tractor/not fall into mud or snow.

The only downside in being Quebecois for the day was trying and failing to do things they could do easily, and failing miserably. Instead of going down the hill the long way on the tractor, we decided to scale the hillside like the other young people. Well, Joe went down pretty smoothly, while me, Aimee and Leanne's descent was basically like this:

Weather Changes

So, this past week or so it's been raining all over the place and I'm so happy about it I may as well be a 90's boy band about to do the wet shirt scene lol.

You see, as much as rain on-top of heavy snow leads to the black ice I always love to complain about, this time it's different. The rain has been employed as natures clean up crew to finally shift all of this bleak snow and slush out of the way so Spring can finally move in and the layers and boots can start coming off. Let me say it loud and clear people: 

Spring is finally IN!!!!

Hair #TheStruggle

So, anyone who sees me in person or on social media and cares knows I've been rocking braids since Cuba and actually loving it. But anyone who has braids/knows about black hair will know that they can only last so long and only have a few months life span. I've decided I'm at the end of mine. How did I come to this decision? I heard the one thing you never want to hear from a restaurant manager, ever: 

Excuse me sweetie, did you loose your braid? [said while she holds it horizontally between her fingertips and its blatantly yours]

When life reaches that stage, you know it's time to call it a day. So who can guess how this weekend is gonna be spent? For once I'm glad I have nothing else to do but take down my braids, sad I know. I can almost see the faces of all my students now when I walk into school back to original hair, which I'm guessing they've all rationalised no longer exists over the past month. Monday is gonna be fun.

Easter Escapades

Allow me to use N*SYNC to describe to you how my 5 day Easter break arc was looking about a week and a half ago:

Leanne and Dan are Chris in the blue PJs hanging out in the back waiting for their family to visit/ weekend engagements. 

Joe and Aimee are JC in the purple PJs already living it up gallivanting cross contry/countries to visit family members.

Meanwhile I'm regrettably bleach blond, curly fro Justin, crying left outside alone because I have nothing to do/nowhere to go. So I did something about it.

I decided to ignore my non-existent bank balance in favour of the ridiculous #YOLO mentality and book myself a Greyhound facilitated trek to good old NYC rather than stay in Buckingham doing nothing. In true Monique fashion I left it all to the last minute before I booked my ticket and asked my family in Jersey and my old friend Mike (who I met in Cuba - calling in the favours lol) to take me in over the weekend. Luckily for me everything panned out well and I managed to see quite a few off my relatives and have a day to myself to strut around Times Square like a celebrity. On the latter day two amazing things happened:

Even though getting there and back was absolute murder thanks to being stuck at border patrol and carrying the heaviest bag in the entire WORLD (with only myself and my lack of packing skills to blame) I don't regret it. I got to see even more parts of the city I'd never seen before. That being said I need to lock off all these trips to the US and stick to francophone destinations for the rest of my time here I think. Given the chance I would still go again though.

#SorryNotSorry

So, we're in a cabane a sucre (sugar shack) right - gotta love weekends in QC lol - all gathered round for story time....well Uni Freshers/Secondary School ladsladslads tales....and this particular tale was set on athletics day or something where the boys in question (sadly the LBG were the oldest young people there, everyone else was like 18-21...what is this life?) were doing high jumps or long jumps. 

If you haven't gathered by now, I was no where near invested in this conversation, the others can confirm lol I was being about as sociable as the chair I was sitting on, only that I had ears. Anywho, all I heard was:

*blah blah blah we had to go do long jumps*

*blah blah blah so the Blacks go first and do really well, then so an so*

* blah blah then it's WhatsHisFace's turn and he says it's not going down like that and he's about to dominate blah blah blah*

So I did what anyone would do. I thank Drake for helping me demonstrate the 2 steps in this process.

 Case #2 Mais, tu viens pas d'Angleterre toi?

• Minor but still stupid seeing as she directly challenged what I just told her and it was only me in the car.
• Resolved only by me repeating myself seeing as I didn't want to fight with a stranger (I'd met her at Zumba but never actually had a convo with her) who was giving me a ride home.

*blah blah blah talking about which schools we work at in the area and where we live*

*blah blah I'm helping out teaching English at my school I'm from England blah blah my flatmate does the same thing at your school*

*blah blah oh but wait, you're not from England though are you?*

After I JUST said so. Why would I lie? Why would you even frame the question in  that way, putting in the negative already like there is some discrepancy? 

I just repeated what I said and clarified yes, I'm from London, England. Hence I'm teaching English. Like I already said.

Case #1 Mais, ca match pas! a.k.a the one that started it all

• Major offence because it was just plain stupid and done in front of several witnesses.
• Unresolved because between being lost in translation and disbelief that she could be saying what I thought she was saying - and she was - I had her repeat the question and had no comeback for her answer tbh.

*Oh well, if you'd said Zimbabwe that would have made sense sure, but....*

Me trying to rationalise what my new staffroom friend had just said and all that it implied.

The other two teachers (including Friday English teacher) on the convo sidelines. Our survey says: Invisible/Imaginary Audience reaction:

my face for the rest of lunch

First. She, like case #2 assumes that, even though I already said so, I can't be from London.

I'm sorry do I need to carry a passport and birth certificate because you can't hear what I said?

Second. She offers the logical solution/suggestion that I must be from an African country....as a joke ofc.

Please feel free to have all the seats in the stadium.

In her slight defence maybe she has only come across African families that have migrated to Quebec. But still. I just told you I'm an assistant from England, from London. Why is it hard to accept that my mum was at some point 9 months pregnant in London, gave birth there, and raised me there? Not complicated at all. Also, let's skip the whole Caribbean and any other place there are black people shall we? Ok. Pick Zim at random? Sure. Exotic enough name, why not?

I don't turn to any Quebecois or Canadians and say, wait, you must be from Sweden though right? Just because they have blond hair and or blue eyes and they evidently aren't First Nations people - the ones that were there first FYI. So then why would you question and then offer to correct where I'm from as if my nationality is less plausible and yours is a given. Oh, no baby. No way.



Now, I've had my BigGirlBoots moment about this and it's not the first time I've talked about (casual) racism I've witnessed in Quebec but there are also two other points I think it's equally important to make:

The first is, as much as I love to get my imaginary Angela Bassett on it's not enough to say that all these strangers are just purposely and directly:


On interview day one of the coordinators asked me, as delicately as he could, if it would bother me being the only one "like me" in the area I get placed in. I responded that I was no stranger to being "like me" in another country - oh, hi Spain! - and knew people would treat me differently. I told him I knew it wasn't all a case of out and out racism (KKK on my doorstep, cross burning in the yard) but ignorance (never/barely seen any other races let alone know what to say or not say when given the chance) and that it was my job not just to learn about the Quebecois culture but to teach them about mine. No one forced me to come here or promised me it would be all gravy from start to finish. Anyone doing Residence Abroad rest assured:


But that is not an excuse not to go and do it. You might be the only ethnic person to roll through your placement and draw some lines in the "racist/not racist" sand or be the first of another race people meet. This is especially important, I think, if you're working in education, with kids in particular. There are a handful of black kids in my school, and a couple that are Asian too, there's a chance that you could be the only ELA they see that "looks like them" or is at least different in some way they can relate to, if you're placed in a school like mine, and I think that's important for those kids to experience.


As much as I'm a proud black woman, this isn't limited to black RA students. Anyone who ends up being a minority on their placement could find themselves in a situation like any of the ones I've talked about. And I think RA organisations should do more to prepare students for it, and their placements - in terms of what you can and can't say because boy, the stories I've heard since ELAing in Quebec alone...ugh.

Whats more, I didn't say anything. In these cases, when you're trying to make friends and be sociable in a foreign country or culture, how do you combat these foolish comments people make with no awareness of how offensive they're being and how awkward that comment made things for you? I'm honestly interested like, in the comments box, pick one case, or all 3 and tell me what you would have done in my shoes?

I know to some they might seem like minor issues but if someone said "oh and then the blacks went and did this", in the middle of a big old group convo how do you even side rail the whole thing and what do you say? Other than clarify they just said "blacks" and it sounds wack to you, sounds fine to them and you're still the only black person in the room, now with an added awkward spotlight....?

For those of you that have reached the end of this post and are still thinking:


Asking why I'm bothering about such small issues and making such a big deal out of this. I have no time for this opinion as this is a genuine concern that functioning adults, not kids this time, can say these things to people they barely know, with no common sense reflex of oh better not say that, sounds rude. Maybe you don't get it because this has never happened to you #reverseracism #blindedbythelights who knows?

OK. It's been more than a while since my last post. That is down to three reasons:

Me every time I'm alone and think about what I could be doing in Havana right now...... *sigh*

Today ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I'm gonna level with you about this job, this country, and what the heck I'm gonna do with myself when I leave here. Don't worry, it won't be too too bleak, and of course I'll pad it out with anecdotes of the ridiculous things going on at school as per usual.

I've said this to Gwynne before but, if all you can do is pray for  #HalfDayThursday and #PayDayFriday  to get you through your job, you must not like it right? I mean. I like my school and working with my groups etc but I could never go so far as to say this is my passion. It feels weird to admit that I'm amongst the majority (I imagine) of ELAs out here who are doing these placements but actually have no intention of becoming teachers. My whole adolescent life people have been telling me I should be/would make a good teacher. And obviously, typical girl, I thought - puh-lease *neck roll* I am not doing that - but at every chance I got (aka my first year abroad), that's what I did. And I loved it. But I tell you this now. Primary school, ain't happening in my future. I can't, don't and won't see it. Unless God Almighty picks me up and dashes me in  that playground, you won't see me there unless I'm picking up my (as yet unborn) children.

If I'm gonna teach kids I want them either fresh out the womb in kindergarten (nursery isn't even specific enough, 4 years and under) or old enough that I can dash them out of my class at a moment's (sp?) notice or I can speak to them on a level. One thing I can't get over though is how ridiculously exhausting teaching is. Like what is this?!  I don't even work full time, luckily I get Fridays off and don't have a rammout timetable. How can these people even come into work every day still upright and smile when most days I'm in a constant state of:

until at least 10am (following an 8am start) is beyond me. The amount of patience required, and creativity - my DAYS the amount of worksheets and game and exercises I have to create for these fickle, short attention spanned kids is crazy - is not serious. If you thought Simon Cowell was tough to please and keep entertained try 6-12 year olds. 

I'm telling you there is nothing worse than putting blood, sweat and tears into some elaborate worksheet or song or activity you are convinced they are gonna love and a child, or even a whole group of them has the audacity to stone face you like:

especially  when you were asked to make those sheets for them (no, I'm still not over it in case you couldn't tell). It's just a joke, tbh.

Did I get out of bed for this? Did I, in the words of J.A.R traverser l'Atlantique for them to give me this response really? To be asked why they have to continue reading a book the whole class was set for the entire term to basically teach them all how to read/improve their reading in English and how to pick up their two hands and use a bilingual dictionary - the key to learning any language really.

#SideNote

In case you didn't know guys, the generation following ours/mine is fully and completely wack. This is the fallout from the touchscreen/internet era:

• Unless it comes on a screen with a keypad, they don't know how to use it. 
• It took me weeks, months even, to establish that there are TWO A-Zs in ONE dictionary in TWO languages, and that if you don't know the word in my language (English) you look for it in yours, the one language you do know perfectly (French). 
• The act of flicking pages and searching for a word - which is usually right in front of them FYI - seems to send these lazy kids into some next bouts of fake depression.

Mate, bring back the cane or call SuperNanny or do something, this isn't a good look. The next generation is slaaaackin.

Doesn't everybody know I've  been making this up as I go along for the past 8 years??

Don't worry though, I'm not saying that these past 6+ months of teaching have completely burnt me out or anything. I'm not showing up to work drunk, sleepy (apart from that one nap I had in the reading corner during break time...) or post-psychotic break telling myself over and over:


Rest assured if it was that deep I'd just go home....Actually, wait, no. That's a lie. My parents don't have money to waste flying me here there and everywhere, and I just plain don't have money - not grownup money anyway - for anything like that. So love it or hate it I'm staying. Thankfully, however, I know I'm here for a reason, so Ima learn whatever it is I'm here to learn then take that on home back to England and carry on with life.

I miss libraries; studying, being buried under piles of glorious, funky, old, crusty books. I miss fighting for computer spaces and laptop plug spots and then overtaking them for ridiculous periods of time. I miss researching for essays and - in my case - almost failing to turn them in. My days I miss lectures and knowledge [I know, I've gone off the deep end into full geek mode]. I miss rolling out of bed (and bathing obviously) and rolling into lectures with glasses, tracksuit and uggs (THAT'S RIGHT I'M THAT GIRL) and then giving side eye to/cutting my eye at all the girls coming in with a beat face, handbag and Zara runway clothes. I miss riding my bike around campus, hanging out with only students  (with 4 uni's in one city Manchester is a student haven), in name brand and independent coffee shops. I miss halls, I miss having my whole life in one room. I miss G.A.N.G (the youth/student ministry of the church I go to in Manch - shout out to V.O.M =P ). Ugh. Give me all of it. Right now.

Of course though, I miss my family and friends more than anything. I miss my family's cooking, jokes, music. Everything about them, all the days we spend together - Chicken Fridays at Grandma's and Sunday Dinners at my house, BBQ's, sleepovers at friends. The lot. But soon come, innit. 2 and a bit months to go people!

Things I heard at school:

• There is nothing more cringey than when a teacher, parent, guardian, relative, just the person one or several levels up from your generation says something along the lines of "I've had the pleasure of watching you grown into a young woman/man" .One poor girl had the pleasure of having that line delivered in front of the whole class because it was her last day (please note, my girl was not sad in any way to be leaving after 5 years with the same peeps....mmmmhmm). Who has not told these people about how weird that can sound? Watching someone grow up - I know no harm is intended but still. At the very least, it's proper embarrassing. Say anything. But that. Please and thank you. All younger generations.

• Sitting with some of my grade 6 kids and they're telling me how their parents let them watch Supernatural (my guy has seen seasons 2-8, and that show is deep, not no kiddie show), Chuckie and all these next horror show things. Not to be rude, parent how you want etc but at the same time....where are your parents at fam? Obviously when you reach secondary school age your parents have less control over what you see and hear etc but in primary school, my parents weren't having a bar. Iunno, maybe it's just me. Under 13, you don't watch nothing higher than a 12. But okay then.

• So, before I went to Cuba, I got me some box braids done (couldn't have my hair sweating out in the heat then breaking off when I returned to the cold). And I figured, between me and the other, what,  black girls in the whole school, showing up with braids one day (which most of them wear a lot of the time) wouldn't be a big deal. Wrong.com. I hate the way children stare I do. I had to remind myself I was 23, can do what I want and it doesn't matter what hundreds of beady eyes think. Times like this I miss London where no-one bats an eyelid at hairstyles anymore.... Anyway, I had it from  all sides, students and teachers. In the staffroom, saying it looks so cute, beautiful, picking up my braids and saying my God, isn't that heavy? and it took how long to get done?!. Grade 5 and 6 are the worst I swear. Put it in a high bun - why is your hair like that? (for one, what kind of question is that, as if I put no thought into it whatsoever or did it just so I could explain it to you...), it makes you look like you have two heads or one really big one (these times you just have to breathe and remember cussing out children who don't know any better is wrong, you will lose your job and be deported back home or something). On a side note, one of my grade 5 girls who obviously knows about life said it was vraiment cool even though she had obviously never seen anything like it. Students went to the other teacher and asked her, before being forced to ask me, if it was a wig. SWEAR DOWN. I had to have like 5 minutes of question time including demonstrating how to braid braids, plus explain why I got them, why I got black and not blue ones, and why I'm keeping them. Please, and they act like I'm the one from another planet. How much do these children not pay attention/not find common sense answers to their ridiculous questions.

• Finally, there is lice at my school. The equivalent of the plague as far as education is concerned. So all my cute kids need to back it on up and not touch me for a few weeks. I'm already eye-balling the one's that have come in with a fresh haircut this week. I even forgot about it when one of my favourites hugged me in the hallway. Since then I've had nightmarish thoughts of those evil little demon parasites climbing up my braids like a long synthetic ladder....gotta figure out a way to duck her for a while.....Nowhere is safe and I'm not about to take out my braids, shave my head and go natural because of these children. No ma'am.

Last order of business. Can we talk about this weather for just a second! I do not understand the current state of Canada right now. Specifically Quebec because that's where I am right now.

MATE.

It is supposed to be springtime. How are we stillll ducking in and out of the -10s and -20s?! What foolishness is this???? How can the sun be blinding me all day long and yet it snows all night, afternoon and evening? Why must winter insist on topping up the snow levels. As if we're gonna run out of what's already here anyway. I imagine this was winter's reaction when everyone started going on about the "first day of spring" and the end to this freezer box of a country:

Spring has sprung, yeah?

I officially can't with this weather. As far as I can see, spring is dead or M.I.A. so I suggest we all pad up, order in takeaway/groceries and go to sleep until summer gets here. It works for bears and they don't seem like they're gonna be dying out any time soon so, goodnight ladies and gentlemen.