What is up

Hey everyone, I promised Chris Cook I'd write a blog about my European adventures, and if I've learned one thing in my life it's to keep a promise to Chris Cook. Seriously, that dude has crazy eyes and no moral compass.

So I'm sitting here in my Parisian apartment, located delightfully close to the Eiffel Tower, where I rent a room in the positively garish apartment of a Parisian woman, who lives here as well, along with her son and another American named Amy. To put it into perspective, my room is bigger than some of the apartments I've seen. So I'm very lucky in that sense. If any of you creepy stalkers want to google map it, it's 93 Avenue Kléber.

Just as a refresher to my loyal/nonexistent readership, I am currently living in Paris France where I am embarking upon a journey of enlightenment and discovery. And if you think that's code for fleeing the country because he has no idea what he wants to do with his life, you are delightfully correct. I'm teaching English as a Second Language to middle schoolers (misleadingly called "colleges" here). Pretty much every day (and I'm not exaggerating when I say this) I think to myself, how the hell did I get here? How is it that I'm teaching (teaching!) middle schoolers (middle schoolers!) in France (the country!)? It boggles the mind. I teach at two schools, one of which is fairly nice (College le Parc) and one which is not nearly as nice (College Christine de Pisan). The main difference between the two schools is the discipline level of the children. Don't get me wrong, they all take way way too much. I tell them to shut up and they look at me and go oh of course Mr. Sasha, and then they go back to talking two seconds later. It's delightful. Reminds me why I never dealt with children before. Actively avoided them, I believe. So many poor life choices.

In a subsequent blog post (because I'm getting a headache, and I have a tendency to write Homer-esque length documents when allowed to) I will talk about what I've taught, what I think of this delightful country (hint: it's depressing and I'm homesick!), how my French is going (trés mal!), and what my literary device de jour is (comedic interjections with exclamation points!) Peace out home slices