what does it mean to be american?

That was the question I had to answer with the 1GE this week. Yeah, well, what does it mean to be French? All I had known about this class was that the students were going to ask me about the States. Of course, the teacher jumps right in with that question! How am I supposed to answer that?? She also started asking some of my all time favorite questions like "What are the biggest differences between the US and France?" Uhh... I hate questions like that. Luckily for me, the students could care less about that and were more concerned about sports, drinking, gambling, etc. A few were interested in where I lived in Chauny and why I'm always at La Rotonde.

There's nothing really worth mentioning about any other classes this week, because I have had basically none. With all the BTS being gone this week (older ones en stage, younger ones had a quiz), I really have had nothing to do. Plus, Claude brought in maple syrup for the students to try, so that's been keeping them distracted.

Today, Roxy and I went to St. Quentin to check out the sales. I bought some earrings for half price, perfume (not on sale, but I had no perfume), and a dress for 50% off. C. found us on the train back to Chauny. He figured out the weird free sample nail sticker thing I got from Sephora and made fun of us, because we're the girls. He also cracked us up by "storming" off (and inadvertently throwing his gloves on some random stranger) since we didn't know some songs he had us listen to. But it's okay. We can be friends again, because we knew the ABBA song and the French version of "A Whole New World" that he was listening to later.

Tonight, I had to take C. back his blanket to dinner. I was pretty much able to slip it under the students' radar. One of the students (who apparently pays attention to my Facebook more than I thought) told me not to worry about the boys. Yeah, who was the only one who noticed and commented? That would be him! He also gave some weird nod at C. at the end of dinner... C. was funny though. He came into dinner, literally stood right next to the bag with his blanket, and was like "Shannon, ma couette?!" I rolled my eyes and pointed down. Guys can be so oblivious.