On Monday, I started school. I had my first class at 2pm. It was a French class, what I thought was a rather good way to begin a week. You know with the obvious course. I dug it. But really, three hours of French class? It was slightly painful, but all in all it pretty much set the tone for the week, as in - it would not be the only 3 hour class.
The classrooms are slightly small. The desk space cramped. The room is comprised of long white tables that span the half of the room with a small passageway in between to let one get up to the next row. The chairs are bolted to the desks and flip up and down to make room. This means that anytime anyone wants to get out of their seat or perhaps even flee the scene, they have to barrel over other bewildered students or sit and die for the next THREE HOURS.
Also, our schedules change every single week. EVERY SINGLE WEEK. This means no routines, no continuity, and pretty much that we are always agonizing over what to bring or how to organize our life. I mean JEEsus don't we have enough to worry about. . . you know. . . like speaking French and being human beings or having basic necessities like hot water and heat.