Saturday, August 13, 2011

Revenez aux leçons françaises



So, once again, I headed across to the north side of the harbour for my weekly French lesson with Guy at Mosman High School. Once again, there were five students - all female. My guess is that two of us are in our 60s (as is Guy), one in her 50s, one in her 40s, and one in her 30s. I really enjoy this group. I am not sure what their standard of grammar is, but some have wonderful accents already. With just 5 of us, there is so much more interaction than when I was in a class of 20. Here we can ask questions, interrupt the flow for clarification, without feeling we are holding half the class up. I have an issue with the pronounciation of 'gare' and want to rhyme it with 'bear' rather than 'far'. The two hours fairly skittle along, and I have to be on my toes all the time. I actually listen to the others, rather than tune out.

One thing that was remarked upon and which horrified us all, was the condition of the classroom. Delapidated, in need of a paint, refurbishment of student tables and chairs, and the heating was woeful. How do the kids concentrate on their work? And this in a state high school in a very high socio-economic area, albeit a high proportion of teenagers in that area attend private/independent schools.

Logistically, I am still getting the hang of it. The 389 bus arrives across the road at 7:32 and the 245 leaves the rank at Wynyard at 7:56am. So I jig-a-jog (take that with a grain of salt) from Elizabeth Street, down through Martin Place, across George, across the Batallion Memorial in Wynyard Close, and into Carrington Street where I have to make it to the very last bus stand of quite a few. Luckily there are a couple of dozen other students waiting there for the very same destination (probably Business classes, or English as a Second Language). Arriving at Mosman Junction about 8:20, I have tonnes of time for a large flat white and a pain aux raisins (aka a snail) at La Pattisserie Francaise before crossing over Bradleys' Head Road on my way to class.


Here is another selection of shops in Mosman Junction. The shops over there are quite similar to the shops here in Paddington, but the houses are so very different. Shall try to show you some next week, when instead of coming home the same way as I went over, I want to work out the logistics of bussing down to the Athol Street Wharf (below Taronga Zoo) and catching a ferry back to Circular Quay. Hah! What joy!

8 comments:

diane b said...

You must be keen. It is a shame the busses don't connect at the same stop. I used to catch the ferry when I was at ASOPA then a train to Sutherland. That was on weekends. It took 2 hours so I shared a room with another student during the week.

Joan Elizabeth said...

This is such dedication to the cause. I am so glad that my train/bus connection in the morning is just about perfect meaning it only takes about 2.5 hours to get to work. Unfortunately lately on the way home I get to cool my heels at the station for the best part of half an hour, making the trek home about 3 hours. Now that is dedication to a cause too!

freefalling said...

Do you reckon the kids even notice the peeling paint and the lack of heating? I don't really remember any of that stuff from when I was at school. I'm pretty sure we didn't even have heaters (and it can get pretty cold in Toowoomba) and forget about air conditioning. And that wasn't even a public school.
At least I didn't have to go barefoot through the snow like Dad did (okay, it never snowed in Leyburn but they had those really nasty bullhead prickles - do you have those in NSW? - I've never seen them down here in VIC).

Julie said...

Yep ... but they werem't called 'bullheads' ... something else that I cannot get to float to the surface of this brain of mine!

Julie said...

Good old google ... bindi-eyes or catseyes we called them. Bindis for short more often than not.

Julie said...

And don't forget the 'Hexham greys'. Mossies that were an axe-head between the eyes!

Joan Elizabeth said...

Ha ha I've just been reading Letty's comment. When I was a kid most of the boys wore no shoes to school until they got to high school. Their feet seemed to get tough enough to cope with the bind-eyes, hot and cold weather. We girls took off our shoes at any chance we could too. I remember my Grandmother in the south always exclaiming that we would catch the death of cold running around bare foot because we even did it when we were visiting her in Melbourne in winter.

Kay L. Davies said...

Your French class sounds worth the trek, Julie. Five students and one instructor would be wonderful, more like a friendly visit than a class.
The other bus route you plan to check out made me think of visiting the Taronga Zoo with Rob in '82. I can't remember how we got there, however.
-- K