How do you say "blizzard" in French?

Translation widget says: tempête de neige. Seriously? That's the half-assed answer I would've thrown out if a professor had asked me in class or something. The French just have no vocabulary.

Remember last week, when I was getting all sentimental about the arrival of Spring? Well, I take back everything I said. On Monday morning, any fantasies of Spring were promptly crushed (maybe literally) by about 3 inches of snow. Now lucky for Paris, there's plenty of pollution and body heat and warm pavement (thanks Métro!) that snow melts pretty quickly. But as I rode the train out to Marly le roi, bright and early on Monday, I was pretty sure we'd taken a detour to Russia or something because the entire "countryside"(if you can call it that) was buried in snow. The forest was covered, the fields were covered, everything. It was completely surreal, and all the rest of the exhausted people in the train looked around and wondered how this had happened well into April. Especially since it was about 60 degrees a few days earlier. I was wearing my big coat in anticipation of the cold, but I was definitely not wearing the right shoes. I slowly tip-toed across the train tracks so as not to slip and fall and inevitably knock myself out on a railroad track and get hit by the next train to Paris. On the way to school I smacked a couple bushes, just to get a feel for the snow. I thought by that time that it would've condensed into one of those hard, icy balls that snow turns into in places where it's not quick cold enough to snow a lot. But no, it was fresh and powdery and got stuck to my glove. Kids were throwing snow balls at each other on the playground. Surreal indeed. Sadly, by the time I left work at 4:30, there wasn't so much as a trace that it had snowed just that morning.

The rest of this week is sort of a pleasant blur. I basically just trucked right through it. I had done all my work that was due, I was prepared. I was stressed, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. On Tuesday I got up at 8:30, worked out, went to three classes, ate some ice cream when I got home around 8:30 and then went to bed. On Wednesday I was in an unusually good mood. It was tempered by the wicked midterm I had in my translation class, though luckily it doesn't count toward our grade. Come to think of it, nothing really counts in that class. Each week we translate something together in class after taking a vocab quiz (that doesn't count). I assume the final counts, but that's kind of terrifying since we don't really get to learn anything except for the vocab. I still can't figure out why the Anglo-American studies department is allowed to conduct their classes in French. I mean, in my American civilization class, she lectures in English, but then gives the homework in French, lets kids talk to her in French, gives instructions for tests in French. I can't imagine any of my French professors speaking English to us at this level. And my translation class is completely in French except for the words in the texts we're translating. There's even this one professor, I assume it's an American civilization class, and not five minutes goes by where he doesn't translate something he just said into French. I sit outside his room and listen while I wait for my translation class to start, and every week, without fail, I hear him say something in English and then immediately repeat it in French. What is the point?

Hmm, what else is on my mind right now. I have one more week of work, I can't even believe it. Yesterday one of my students gave me a gift from "au nom de la rose" -- a candle, scented pebble things (I assume to put in your dresser or something) and perfume oil. I'm having some mixed feelings about leaving the job. When I think about waking up at 6 am, the hour plus commute, screaming at kids to stop talking...I want to leave and never look back. But there are some kids there that I genuinely adore (like Léa, the gift-giver) and will bad sad to leave. For the most part, I like the kids. I even like most of the teachers, even though I know they've had some not-nice things to say about me (according to my cunt bag inspector, who knows). This week two of them asked me to give grades to the kids. I'm not supposed to give grades, tests, or anything of the like, but I obliged the one teacher because we've got a pretty good system going (I grade them mostly on participation and pronunciation), but the other teacher who asked me yesterday was the idiot with the class that makes me want to throw myself out a window. Honestly, every time I yell at the top of my lungs to quiet her class down, out of the corner of my eye I see her looking at my like I'm insane. This is not your average noisy class. These kids are talking, parroting whatever I say, smacking each other, throwing shit, getting up and walking around -- just completely out of control. And all she does is the occasional "sshhhh" and maybe once in a while she'll tell one of them to sit down. I'm at the point where I don't care about it anymore. Yesterday I was having the kids recite "Hickory Dickory Dock" to work on their accents. Since they can't entertain themselves quietly while their classmates talk, I ended up going around to each kid and squatting down next to their desks so I could hear them. There are some great kids in that class, but it doesn't make up for the fact that most of them need to be on medication. And I'm not exaggerating there. One or two of them are actually smart and have actually learned something, but are just too agitated to sit still and pay attention. France has a 9380980495 and 1 programs for kids who are having difficulty in school --- I blame their incompetent salope of a teacher for not getting them help.

Aaaaanyway, that's enough of that. Today I'm going to do some laundry, then hopefully get a successful hair cut. I'm terrified. I don't even know what I'll do with myself when I get back to America and I don't have to formulate beforehand what I'm going to say to people every time I go to the drugstore or the hairdresser or the bank or whatever. And tomorrow is a big day trip to a couple castles, so I'll definitely bring my camera and actually take some pictures to show the little people at home. I am a horrible tourist, I think it's the photographic memory.