My favorite teacher, le Pape, and the missing ice cream bars

Wednesday, my favorite teacher asked me if I could please stop singing. I wasn't actually in a class, but putting little Ms. Arianne to bed. She's the 3 year-old I'll be babysitting once or twice a week. She speaks French (obviously) and is also fluent in Hungarian, and although she understands most English, she really only knows a few words. So our communication is such that I speak in English (I'll often repeat whatever I'm saying in French as well if I know how), and she speaks in French. She's incredibly smart and generous and sweet. She's an absolute doll with blonde curly hair and brown eyes. I already feel extremely attached to this one even if she doesn't like my lullabies.
Speaking of lullabies, I'm pretty tired from another fun night about town with my new partner in crime, Zoe Nissman. Zoe hails from Topanga Canyon in LA and went to school in NYC with my girl, Ms. Lauren Kincheloe. They now live together in Lalaland, and Zoe will be here through the end of the month. We spent the day window shopping and moseying around Montmartre. I love that the French expression for window shopping is "faire du lèche-vitrines," which literally means licking the window. We drank a couple of bottles of wine with our hot new French friend Tristan (who looks like a male model, rides a motorbike, and speaks perfect English without an accent as he spent his first 10 years in Connecticut), and then met up with my friend Nicolas at a bar in Odéon for more drinking and French lessons. French lessons that I have completely forgotten. Seriously, this stuff needs to start sticking.
Note to self: USE the damn notebook and pen you've been toting around everywhere and WRITE THINGS DOWN.
I realized on the phone with my mom this morning that I am overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by my return to education. I'm definitely excited to be learning a new language, and the culture and history of France is especially interesting considering how in love I am with this city, but this is also the most challenging thing I've ever done. Which is kind of sad. I don't know that in my 16 years of school I was ever really challenged. I swept through a public high school and a state university, and rarely felt, if ever, truly challenged. As an artist, I've definitely had challenges. As a human I've faced (collectively with my family) more than my fair share of challenges. But academically...?
I love my country. I have read the statistics, and I knew the sorry state of affairs, but I guess witnessing first-hand how behind we really are has changed my perspective a bit. So, now the question remains: what exactly am I going to do about it?
Pope Benedict XVI was in Paris for the weekend. This meant 3x the amount of tourists to get in my way on my way home from school Friday. As a non-practicing, "confirmed" catholic, it really didn't mean much else. I didn't have much of a desire to see the pope-mobile or hear the man speak. I have nothing at all against him, but fighting the crowd did not seem at all desirable. I was, however, happy to learn some interesting facts about him. He was, for instance, the oldest man to ever be elected pope. And he started an organization that sells his writings to provide scholarships for students. Did you know he speaks 5 languages, and can read 7? Obviously, he didn't grow up in the US.
So I sit here avoiding studying like a true American with my chocolate ice-cream bar. Like a true French woman, my host-mother keeps eating my supply (she's now even eaten the ones she bought to replace the ones she ate before). I don't really mind since the situation's kind of comical, but the moon is waxing and chocolate is vital to my existence right now.
I miss my mom.
And Naked juices.
And big salads.
And veggie burgers.
And bagels.
Ah, well. Wish me luck.