New, new, new and some old reminders, too

I came to France to experience something new. Well, not new since Europe is really old compared to the "New World" I grew up in, but something different for me. Something that everyone who has an interest to should see and some point in his or her life. I have wanted to see Europe for long. I don't even remember when I realized that there was so much great art, architecture, languages, food, culture and new friends to be had on this continent, but ever since I have wanted to find the right time in my life to explore it and revel in its combination of unique experiences.

This is the last week of class before our first holiday. It seems silly to work for 2 1/2 weeks and then have a break, but with so much difficult paperwork, daily language barrier stresses and so much NEW, I really need the time to do fun things in Europe. I need to be reminded why I am here in the first place and I need some time to just be here without having to be anywhere at any particular time.

Today I faced yet another cultural challenge at work and I'm still not sure where to go with it in my head or in my work. In several social occasions I have learned that Europeans do not give the same reverence to certain racial words as North Americans do. I've met people who think it's OK to say words like "colored" and "nigga" and several other things. Clearly it's not. None of these words are really, really terrible, but they're inappropriate and make me do a double-take when I hear them. I don't like it and I always try to gently explain to foreigners why American history and culture all but requires people to avoid using those words (or at least only use them to illustrate a point) as a way to show respect for a group of people often not respected in the past.

Today I faced another such situation. My favorite teacher at the lycee is doing a section on the Holocaust with her 13 year olds, which is great and they are really into it and learning a lot. However, the French word for jew is the same as the English, but in French it's not a harsh word. Then add the language difficulties and you have young kids saying things like, "the Nazis took their Jews..." etc. Sentences like that sound dehumanizing to an anglophone. As a member of a social minority myself I feel something of a connection to certain persecuted groups. Also, I have been called unkind things and comments directed toward me because I supposedly look Jewish. Silly, I know, but the words hurt even when they don't accurately describe you.

I mentioned my concern to the teacher who said it doesn't matter because in French it's not mean to say "Jews" like that, it's just what they are. I replied that when you speak English it is unkind to say it, so if we're teaching them English we should be careful to explain when words mean something different. The bell sounded then and we had to part ways, but I hope the topic is revisited later so I can explain this to the kids. The text the kids are learning from uses some harsh language in conjunction with the word "Jew," such as "yid" and "Jewboy," so I still think it's worth mentioning. They shouldn't go out into the world with good hearts and good intentions and wind up hurting someone because they don't understand the sub-context of an English word.

Aside from work things are a bit in flux. I found a new apartment with other assistants, which is great, but can't move in until December, which sucks big time because my current place is not as comfortable as I would like. My work schedule is changing too and I am meeting new people and learning new things every day. None of this is bad, just challenging. Plus Leigh lands in the morning, so everything will change soon. I'm so happy she's coming, but it's also more new and more adjusting so it will add to the challenge. All worth it in the end, I'm sure...

The past few days I've been really emotional. I kept thinking it was hormonal, no big deal, it'll pass. Everyone gets blue days every few weeks. Maybe it's the weather since God has decided it's time to remind us that we may live in paradise but he can still keep us indoors and wearing sweaters anytime he likes. It might be that I've been here a month and I'm not really enjoying it like I thought I would- everything is new, everything is difficult, everything requires so much effort and preparation. Then my Canadian counterpart said to me yesterday, "I won't let this country defeat me!" She's completely right, and she's even less emotionally equipped to handle this situation than I am. She's younger and hasn't had to deal with the same stuff I have, so if she can muster the fortitude to get through the day and enjoy it here then I know I can, or at least I know I should quit whining and deal with things.

Then reality hits me from a far away land called Florida. My youngest brother (but he's still my big brother) and his family live in Florida and their youngest child is a 4 year old girl with autism. Recently my brother started blogging about daily challenges and successes his family faces. They're a young, working-class family in a tough situation, but they amaze me on a regular basis. Reading about my brother's daily life caring for his kids and running a household brings me to tears and reminds me how lucky I am and how little my worries matter.

Honestly, I'm always going to stress and worry about things because I can't help myself, but when I remember that my big brother grew up to become a hero and a role model to so many people I shut my lucky, privileged, able-bodied, over-educated mouth really fast. I love my brother and his family so much and I'm so proud of all of them. My brother was a gift to me as a child, as my protector and my closest friend and now he's a gift to me always reminding me how to be strong when things get tough and how to remain thankful for everything that has gone right in my life.