Adaptation: My Adventures in Paris

Day 10

This was the day I started school, better known as the day I realised how screwed I actually was. 

After meeting up with my newly found friends before class, we had to split, as we were in different English classes. Not only did I not know how to get to my English classroom, but I was also entirely alone. But I made it. I was the first one in the classroom and made my way to the side of the class-- I was definitely not sitting in the front. And that was when they all started piling in. What us Adaptation people called them... 

The French People 

Let me explain: The French are not bad. They are actually quite nice and they never did anything wrong. However, there is always a 'but'. Now I'm not sure if it was our preppy school that made such a big deal about its new students or what, but Adaptation had a reputation of being disliked by the general public of NNG school. It was understandable though. We were new. We didn't speak French. We were intruding. And that was what formed a fine line between us and the rest of the school. We referred to it as Adaptationism. And of course, not all French people. But there was always the occasional Adaptationist. We'll get to that soon. 

And so, there I was, completely alone, surrounded by people giving me weird looks. I was the fresh meat. Luckily, Enrique and Jason soon showed up and I at least had someone to sit next to during this scary 2 period class with a teacher who had the thickest Canadian-French accent known to man. Trust me, I lived in Canada. 

One girl actually introduced herself to us. "You're in Adaptation, right?" she asked the most common question I had to hear for the entire year. She was kind of pretty, I'll admit. She had dirty blond hair and crystal green eyes. Let's call her Lily. I actually ended up befriending her throughout the year. But boy oh boy were there reasons for me to be skeptical. Details to follow. 

The rest of the scary Tuesday went by pretty quickly. After English I had math. It was already my least favourite subject... and then I met my teacher. Mme. Crapter. It wasn't actually any one thing that made me half dread half fall asleep in her classes. It was just an accumulation. 

For starters, the way she talked. It was as condescending as could be. The worst part about it was that she didn't actually end up teaching us anything, but made it a big deal to talk as if we were the dumbest students in the world. What's next. Maybe the fact that she never actually told us when assignments were obligatory. Pretty much half of my grade dropped because I didn't know our online homework was due.  I especially enjoyed it when she announced everybody's (good and bad) test grades out loud. Or when she called every single student out and made them feel like an idiot. Not to mention, math was in French. I still don't know how to say 'variable'. 

At the end of the day we had History and Geography. My teacher was kind of a hipster, with thick eyeliner and purple leggings. She was kinda funky, but the only thing I got out of that class was how to write paragraphs all period and then be required to memorise it by heart for tests. "Learning." 

I saved the best for last, however. I thought that the fear and discomfort of being surrounded by French chatter was going to end after my first English class. But that was when I realised... my mom had signed me up for Spanish. And there, I was 100% alone. At least for the first lesson. John was supposed to show up, but he messed up classrooms. So I obviously ended up in the back of the room, until my teacher, who was actually just a sub who smelled of cigarette smoke and some kind of alcoholic drink, forced me to move and sit next to a sweet girl named Suzie. After that class I never actually spoke to her again, but me and my friends sort of admired her from afar. She was absolute goals as a person. Her bright blue eyes contrasted her tan skin and her curly hair popped with her petite curves. I wasn't like her. Oh well.