I love the Internet

[WARNING: you might learn some French in the reading of this note]

There is nothing like being a teacher to remind you that you are, inevitably, getting old. Come on, at twenty-eight, really, I did not think I had anything to worry about. Oh boy was I wrong. Facing my lovely year 7 today, I simply got 'patronized' by a bunch of twelve years old. And about the Internet no less! Yes, this thing I am currently on in order to write this very note. Think of it, they also probably assume I don't know what a blog is! 

We were learning about activities we can do at the weekend. Here is how it went:

Miss V.: Répétez: Je danse. 

La classe: JE DANSE!

MissV.: Je regarde des vidéos. 

La classe: JE REGARDE DES VIDEOS!

Miss V.: Je surfe sur Internet.

La classe: JE SURFE...uug?

Miss V. Is there a problem?

La classe: surfing the Internet? What is that m'am?

Miss V: ha ha, is it not what you say? What would you use?

La classe: 'Going on the Internet!' Nobody says 'surfing on the Internet', that's (say in knowing tone) old fashioned....

Point taken. And thinking about it, they are probably right. I haven't heard someone using that expression in a while. Has it become obsolete already? I was priding myself of being a bit of a nerd and now I am apparently not up-to-date with my Internet lingo. 

My pupils have got a totally different background than me though. Going back in time when I was their age, Internet had just started to appear. Google did not exist yet and most people did not have a personal computer at home. My dad worked in computers (still does - salut papa!) and every holiday, I had the privilege of spending one day at his job, playing games & using Yahoo search to look up info on my favourite films & to print posters of them. It was an absolute blast and I will always cherish very much those memories when surfing the net (see what I did there?) was special. 

However, now, will I use today's incident as an excuse....mmmhh...opportunity to go more on the world wide web? Oui. 

The usual?

This has now become somewhat of a tradition (mmmh) to come here around the new year and to write a little note about resolutions, etc. Well, this year, I don't feel I've got something special to say or to wish or to be resolute about. At all. To be totally honest with you, I've had the most low-key New Year Celebration of all my life so far. I did not feel a page was turning, I did not feel like I had to make my usual list of stuff to change/try. I spent the last hour of 2013, watching a series in my pjs. Nothing special about that. 

So here it is. 

I don't really know what it means.

All I know is that I was tired of expecting. 

Tired of expectations I put in my head when the clock strikes midnight. 

So, this year, I've decided to leave it all up to God. 

My only hope for 2014 is to feel loved by Him every. single. day.

To let myself be vulnerable in Him & for Him.

At the beginning.............

The premise of my blog's name 'The smart but casual way' was coined  by a well known phrase in education here in the UK. Even before starting my teacher training, I remember hearing it & questioning what it really meant - wanting to make sure I did indeed wore smart but casual clothes. I am actually pretty sure I wrote a note about when first starting the blog! It's about the way to dress, yes, but I also took it as a way of being. Being smart in life but yet casual, letting life surprise you. 

Also & most importantly, it is about setting a good example for children to look up to.

Ok, yes, I can see how you're rolling your eyes at how cliché it sounds but

as much as I want to be a good role model for my pupils, making an effort in what I wear - especially when they have to dress in uniform, is one of the ways to demonstrate it.

So here it is. 

Starting my fourth year working in schools, having had total outfit fails as well as great successes, I feel now confident enough to share my first smart but casual outfit.

- A very simple but comfortable navy dress from TKMAX. 
- Black tights. 
- Black boots.

Hopefully this will help girl teachers in need of inspiration in the morning.
I am aware this first one is very simple & 'uncluttered' but that's what works well sometimes (and it's very French apparently so, there!)

:-)
More to come!

A teaching story I

I once watched an inspiring video on how to turn around negativity into positivity in your work environment; a school. In it, the speaker was suggesting getting a box & that every time something good happened, write it down on a piece of paper and put it in the box. After a year, you would have the rewarding task to read them out & smile. Remember the good days, the good moments, the good pupils. 

Today, I had one of those. A 'write it down and put it in the box' moment. So I'll share it.

I've been a tutor for a year now. I'm in charge of 28 pupils who come & register in the morning. The job's more than just checking if they are in school though. I'm in charge of their well-being & from the start, I really wanted to build a good relationships with them but also for them, to build relationships with each other. 

I sometimes despaired and felt like I wasn't doing a great job.

Today, though, today, I felt extremely proud. 

One of my tutees had been out of school for a while because she had an appendix operation & felt too weak to come back. Because we're still at the beginning of the year, I felt especially bad for her, missing the bonding times, getting used to being a year older, etc. 

So I thought we'd send her a card. As a whole form with everybody signing it.

I told my tutees what had happened & they were very keen to do it. 

Quickly, it was done & sent to her. 

Today, morning registration is going well, tutees are sitting, I'm doing the register, appendix girl is still missing.

Everybody is chatting away, talking about tomorrow's schedule when suddenly, I see her through the classroom windows coming across the field to us.

One tutee also spots her and shouts: L------ is back!

All turn around, repeating the shout in a whisper, "oh she's back, L-----'s back"

She opens the door. 

They all start clapping to welcome her.

:-)

24

As I am typing this on my small computer, sitting comfortably in my bed, I feel blessed. I don't always feel it although I am! Constantly blessed. I thought I'd capture the moment in case I forget again how God takes care of me & how He has everything under control. I will come back to this post and read it again whenever is needed. Yes, that's right. YOU ARE BLESSED.

I have my ups and downs, you know. I guess we all do. I hate my downs because they are mostly completely silly & selfish. I would feel ugly & then beautiful in the space of 10 mins. How ridiculous. I would concentrate on negativity instead of focusing on what is amazing in my life. Like my family.

I recently moved into a studio flat. It's the first time in almost three years living in England that I can settle a little bit. I had to buy a pan for instance. I'm the happy owner of a brand new red pan. What is coming next, furniture?! It's lovely here and it was one of my prayers. I wanted a place on my own & heard it was impossible with one salary. Well, this is quite perfect and just big enough for me.

Thank you for taking care of me. 

double two

Twas the night before Christmas....

well, not technically - but it was the 22nd of December, which is very close, let's agree. The protagonist is a girl living on her own in a house. She is going home the next day, taking the plane and as a treat to herself, has booked a facial at a local beauty salon. 

Lots is on her mind as she comes back but inevitably, something is missing from a bag: her house key.

Panic. 

Of the four months living here, not once has she forgotten. 

Bad timing.

She thinks, cries, calls her landlady, all without success. 

She browses the shops, eats out but then, it gets dark. 

She is scared she might not make it.

As a last resort, she knocks at her neighbours' door. 

'Pray, she asks, sobbing, would you have a spare key?' 

Very understanding yet afraid that no, they exhort her to go and ask the neighbours around the corner - 'they might.' 

The girl hopes and trots her way into her next neighbours' garden. Their house is the one she had admired from afar. Fairytale-like by its proportion and shape, that night, it is all highlighted by the glowing decorations.

'Knock, knock, knock.'

An elderly man answers. He listens to her plea and lets her in. Sitting on a sofa, the girl meets his wife - a lovely and soft-spoken grey-haired lady. They immediately make her feel welcomed and listened to. Unfortunately, they do not possess the key but the man calls a friend who might do. They care. They want to help. They remember another friend who lives down the road who knew the landlady's girl well.

'Let's go and ask him'.

A flashlight paves the way and soon enough, the girl and elderly man stand in front of another door.

'Hello, would you not by chance be in possession of a spare key?'

The girl holds her breath.

'Well, as a matter of fact, yes!'

She wants to hug the neighbour and calls him her angel.

He therefore very awkwardly hands her the precious object.

No matter, she is over the moon and able to go home.

Small miracles happen everyday. 

 Three days before Christmas one did.

20 et un

As I stare at the newly formed fat on my otherwise perfectly acceptable thighs, my friend's words come ringing back in my ears : "your body changes every seven years anyway". Laughing it off at the time I now remember. Seven years ago, I was twenty and by what appeared a strange miracle, I had gotten some hips. Not noticeable to the average passer-by but important enough that I had written a little blog entry. I had felt different the way I feel different now. It must be true then! I am stuck with fat. Hello there. How dreadful to finally meet you in the flesh.

New Year's Resolutions:

- Write more. Dare more. Lose that fat.

Wine/Vin/Vingt

Top 5 rubbish things about living on your own:

1. No one to talk to about your day.

2. No one to share a joke, an anecdote, some food, etc.

3. You're the one doing all the chores. 

4. Every random noise scares you.

5. Feeling lonely in general.

 Top 5 great things about living on your own:

1. Singing as much as you want (I am doing lots of vocal exercises in the kitchen while making tea)

2. Spreading your stuff (as a teacher, I really appreciate having the dining room table to myself)

3. Wearing only your underwear in the house if you want.

4. Don't have to wait your turn for laundry. It's always your turn.

5. Naked dance? (enough said)

Anything to add? What would be yours? 

Comment below!

nineteen

Hair  

(not the musical) has (unfortunately) a lot to do with how I feel about myself. Anybody can relate? 

If I feel my hair looks bad, I do not feel ready to face the day in the best way. How vain. It did not use to be that way for me until fairly recently though. As a little girl, I would not even understand the concept of washing my hair until one of my friends' parents made a comment to my mum about it. I vividly remember being forced to splash water and shampoo on it and witnessing in shock some black dirt coming from the result... I was ten and I never did not wash my hair ever again!

I am currently letting my hair grow which can be the most frustrating thing. See, I used to have it short. My golden time for hair. I LOVED IT. I never felt my hair looked bad. Do you know how amazing that is? I never looked at myself in the mirror and thought I was ugly. I used to take pictures of me and thought I was a gorgeous model. Also, I never felt more feminine than when sporting short hair. I felt like a pretty woman. And more importantly, a confident woman. 

I miss it, especially now that I am in the 'passing over the shoulders' phase. The worst phase ever. Flick, flick, flicky hair all around.  Furthermore, the longer the hair, the more care it needs! All I think about is hair (slight over statement)! Pony tails? Braids? Bobby pins? Freeze, mouse, hairspray - get me out of here.  I can't get away with just washing it and let it dry on its beautiful own (also, I have a job now! So double no no turning up with crazy hair to school!) I was always rubbish at using products on my hair (hence short hair) and, at 26, I am learning about it. Thank youtube tutorials!  

I have started to let it grow though and I can't stop now. I want to wait until it is very long again. To prove a point almost. I can't wait to say: 'I have tried long hair again and it definitely does not suit me'.

 Ha. Let's meet again in a year or so.

dix huit

I was recently (meaning just now) thinking (which I should stop doing) about how I (for some reason) cannot stop reflecting on the past year. There is a cure for people who think too much. It's called being active. Having friends, being busy. Which I feel like I have been. Busy. Yet, I keep rumaging on the past, things I should have done, things I should have said. Even saying them out loud on my way home (lame? yes.) 

Stop and look at the future. New leaf.

To be fair though, (my new 'over used in all the conversations I have' expression), it takes time to get over some emotional turmoil (that's right I can use sophisticated words) because it is with time that you realize things you could not before. Wise people say it and wise people are right (unlike regular people).

So yes, in time, my friends, in time. 

Let's wait another five years until something exciting happens, shall we?

(please no)

dis: sept

I am about to finish my year in the north of England to move to my new job in the south. I have very mixed feelings about the whole experience. Because, see, I did not have a good time here. Not because of the place itself, I actually think north of England is lovely, but because of intense work and lack of friends.

People don't like to hear that you spent ten miserable months on your own and that, yes, even looking back, even with some distance, you'll still feel the same way about it. Miserable. People want to hear that you had some bad times but they were overruled by great ones. Well, sometimes it doesn't work that way (and sometimes people suck).

To be honest, I will probably look back at it later on and see how it was not that bad. But the feeling of loneliness and out-of-placeness are unsettling. Adding intense work none stop did not help.  

It is a strange situation to only have collegues and no friends. You meet people for professional reasons and yes, you can be friendly with them but it has its limits. After ten months, I feel my collegues do not know me at all and showed no interest in knowing me. We had the staff summer ball yesterday and it was only more flagrant. 

And out of all the sad things, I think this is the saddest. 

seize

This is something I started in my head while walking to Morrison's. 

I passed a couple in their late 50s holding hands and an old (and odd) question came back to the the surface of my brain:

Am I too complicated?

Do I know too much?

Would I not appreciate the simple touch

of your hand in mine?

Am I too brainy?

Am I too pretty?

Let me know I prithee

Let me know what I am.

Am I too sad?

Or too hopeful?

Am I too dreamy, a fool, 

a good old fool am I?

Too old?

Not enough satisfied? 

Is it me or you oh how I'd

like to know.

quinze

Today, something quite different.

I am eating my dessert in front of the computer in search of a good series that I haven't watched yet. I suddenly remember an ad on telly about this young female doctor in town that looked quite light-hearted. Not even six minutes into the first episode that I have to stop and write a blog about it. It's not bad, don't get me wrong. It's just full of clichés & tonight, for some reason, I don't go along with it. This girl had a plan. She wants to be a heart doctor in NYC. The plan falls apart. Her boyfriend breaks up with her and she does not get the scholarship of her dreams. Then, she remembers an old man who offered her a job in the middle of nowhere and she decides to go for it. We meet her travelling to this place on a bus, 'a Newyorker in a chanel suit' - obviously not matching the other passengers. First question: why not drive? Second question: why not wear something more comfortable? I am sure not all New Yorkers have a great sense of style or lots of money. Then, the bus stops. IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. Since when buses stop three miles from a town? I have taken lots of buses in the most random locations and yet, I never had to carry my suitcase behind me in heels through the dusty countryside like the protagonist does. But you all may have already guess why the writers made her do that. That's right. Enter the prince charming character. The oh noble (good-looking, friendly, funny, rich - all this information in 30 secs) young man who, just by a strange coincidence, happens to pass by in his car & is nice enough to offer her a ride. Awww. Sweet, you might think. All I think is: GIVE ME A BREAK people.............

quatorze

The "Five things that make me less girly than I thought I was" article

I consider myself to be a girly girl. It might have taken me longer than some other females (I only bought my hair straightener when I was 23!) but here I am: I love lace, I love skirts, I love hearts and pink and cupcakes. Yet, I lack many aspects of the...princess girly girl. I can name five.

Number 1

 I don't like French manicure and fake nails. I don't like fake in general. Tan, hair and eyelashes that don't belong to me are a no-no & a disgusting look thrown at anyone wearing them. (too harsh?)

Number 2

When I wear high heels, my feet hurt so I don't. Does it make sense? I think high heels are very feminine and  that there is nothing like a beautiful pair of shoes BUT the reality of life comes knocking on my door (not literally, that would be funny) every time I wear some. Sigh. High heels are not everyday shoes. If you're not a model and wear them for a living, there is no use to torture your feet. Also, I am tall and I as attractive as a giant can be, I'll pass.

Number 3

I don't own bling. No sir. Expect for an engagement ring (hint to anyone who wants to marry me), I think it always looks tacky and quite frankly, wrong if you're over 20.

Number 4

I don't wear make-up everyday. Not that I don't need it, it's just nice sometimes to be naturelle. Non? Also, it has taken me time to accept myself the way I am, so why ruin it with make-up? I even sometimes don't wear make-up [insert dramatic music here] to work. Oh no. She didn't. Well, yes I did. When you get up with only 20 mins to go, priority is getting dressed and eating a breakfast.

Number 5

I still don't understand how to have cool hair every day & it annoys me to spend too much time figuring it out. Even though talking about hair is probably one of my favorite subjects of conversation ever (slight exaggeration spotted), all the talking obviously doesn't help the practical side of things! If I have cool hair in the morning - it probably happened by chance.

So here they are. Five things that makes me less girly than I thought I was.

What about youuu?

treize

Somehow at the back of my mind, the idea of writing what's happening in my life keeps me sane. I keep thinking, I need to write, I need to write, I only have one life and if I write it down, it's there, a proof, a small one, that it happened, that I existed for that moment. Writing is always something I enjoyed doing. From as far as I can remember. I dreamt of one day having the guts (and the time!) to write either a novel, a short story, poems, children's tales and having it published. But look at me. I am struggling to find time to eat properly and to keep my life happy and balanced at the moment. Talk about spending time writing. 
That's a bonus, I am telling you that. Yet, I won't give up. It might take time and it might not happen when I want it but it will.

Here is a video one of my colleagues sent me. She thought of me watching it and you will see, it's a compliment. Enjoy.

Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

douze

My new little song! It had been a while!

eleven

Hooray!
Emeline's got a first for the new year: a random comment by a stranger! Yeahh! Was her comeback ready? Nope. When the man casually exclaimed: "that's some long legs you've got there", all she was able to compute was the following & all together lame answer: "well, yeah..." (because, after all, it is true...) while carrying on walking. Was she wearing something that could have encouraged such a comment? Nope. Good old jeans. What else can she add then?

Nothing. Random. c'est la vie. In doubt, smile!

dix

Today I got stuck between two locked doors.

If this kind of beginning doesn't catch your attention, I don't know what will!
I am on placement in a new school and today, we had a staff meeting that finished quite late. In most schools, there are two entrances. One at the front called the main reception where anybody who needs to sign in before entering the school go through and is buzzed in by someone and one at the back of the building used mainly by the teachers. I - being a teacher there for only three weeks - always came through the main reception where I received a visitor badge. Someone always had to press a button to let me through. When I left the building today, I went back from the same route than usual to sign out. Big mistake. No one was at the reception. To my complete horror, the door to freedom was locked. Not only nobody could let me come back inside but I couldn't find any way of going out either. For a second, I panicked. The idea of being stuck for the night suddenly dawned on me. I then realized that not only did I not have any useful contact numbers to call but also, I didn't even know which number was the police - see how my mind jumped into emergency mode! Luckily, I could still hear some noise far away from people talking so I decided to knock repeatedly on the inside door. Next to it stood a glass frame with trophies inside it which made quite a lot of noise when you banged on it. After what it seems like forever (five minutes in reality), I got delivered by a nice cleaning lady. The most embarrassing part of the whole story is that I actually cried when she opened the door. I wouldn't usually. But I am on my period and even the smallest thing affects me. Ridiculous but there it is....

if only real life could be this way...

nein oder nine

Something happened to me today that was totally weird, so obviously I will share it with you. Today was back to school day and I caught up with one of my lovely colleagues. We talked about the holidays and anything related and the subject of the staff Christmas party came up. I had missed it because I had to leave early to catch my flight so I just asked her how it was. Some staff members had participated in the secret Santa woopla  : they were going to open their five-pounds presents during the party -without ever knowing who got them what. 

My colleague - looking around suspiciously for no one to hear- told me that she was really disappointed in her gift as it was obvious to her that the person offering it did it at last minute without putting much thought into it. It was a bar of soap and some chocolate coins. Really nothing special. She went on saying that the chocolate coins tasted like soap because of their close contact with it & at the end, she threw everything in the bin. 

Ok, until now you might think there is nothing weird to my story. Expect that the person who got it for her was...yep...me. I felt mortified. There is nothing like the feeling of hidden shame. My cheeks were burning & I kept trying to react naturally to her words.

To act normal when you are really really embarrassed is a tough job. I am no actress. Oh my goodness, I really struggled to stay casual. My brain was working full capacity telling me repeatetly: don't mess it up, don't mess it up, what would you act like if you weren't the one that got her that present? come on, come on."

I really thought I was doing a poor job but she didn't suspect anything luckily (maybe I am a bit of an actress  after all- or a good liar, hummmm). Being insulted in such a way is a new experience for me. To my defense, I did put thought into her gift. The bar of soap was no ordinary soap! It was from a Cath Kidson shop with a lovely label and package. It costed 5 pounds too! Ok, I guess it's not the most glamourous of gift but even though she's a lovely girl, I don't know her that well & I didn't want to take a chance by buying her a pair of earrings she would hate. I think I should have. 

Gutted.