Hear That? It's The Sound of My Mind Getting Blown

I'm really starting to like my job. Once you get into the swing of things and the students get used to you, everybody tends to get along and have fun. There are days where my life feels like a Disney channel movie or something with the singing children and the happy faces and oh, why not, let's throw in some friendly cartoon birds to erase my chalk board.

I don't know if I mentioned this but at one of my schools I'm now the actual teacher instead of the assistant. That's been really funny because the kids aren't used to having young teachers and they keep trying to treat me like their big sister; they want to crawl all over me and play on my lap instead of do their work.

It's like being a rock star. It's fun to be loved, but it's extremely stressful at times because I literally can't walk through the front courtyard without two kids riding on each leg asking me for candy. Forget about making copies before class starts. Just forget it.

Also, I find them talking about me. The other day I passed a group of five-year-old boys in the hallway and heard them excitedly whisper something about "D'ancelle," which is how they think my name is spelled/pronounced (it's a tough name in any language I guess.) A lot of five-year-olds don't know that you can still hear them if they whisper. I understand completely because I'm the same way.

I decided to stop and say hi. "Bonjour," I called out. The little boys jumped guiltily and turned around. None of them are in my classes, so they don't know a whole lot about me except that I'm way taller than they are. They just sat there looking waaaay up with their mouths open.

"Ca va?" I asked. And then they started talking about me as if I weren't there.

"That's the English teacher," one little boy said, pointing at The Specimen (me.) "She comes from England."

"No, she comes from the other side of the world," another boy corrected. Then they all went "Ooooohhh."

The third little boy perked up as if a lightbulb had just blinked on over his head or something. "She--she speaks English!" he announced brightly.

"English is hard," said another. "Really hard."

"I also speak French," I said in French. I assumed they may have forgotten that I spoke French to them earlier and could understand everything they said.

The minute the words came out of my mouth they all jumped back and stared at me with huge eyes. Then the tiniest little boy of all made a strangling noise and pointed at me, his finger shaking.

"She--she--SHE SPEAKS CHINESE!!!" he squealed. And they all ran off in terror.

I'm still not sure what to think. Maybe this is supposed to show me just how bad my accent is, if I speak French and people think it's Chinese.