The most common thing to say about French class at the middle school was, "I hate the teacher, but I love the class." The thing I've come to realize is, the teacher makes the class. If M.Girard wasn't such an inconsistent push-over of a teacher, the kids in the class wouldn't come up with some of the crazy things they do to that poor man.
French class is offered at the middle school as a high school credit. We have block scheduling, and French doesn't fit in to any of the blocks. Therefore, the kids who are allowed to take French are all placed in the same English (or reading; it depends on the semester) class. Monsieur Girard came every other day for half of our English/reading block. Each full semester is counted as a credit, so it took two years (four semesters) for half-a-block every other day to equal a full semester. I have been in a class with the same kids and the same teacher for two years.
The class was supposed to be filled with the best of the best, the cream of the crop, but out of a class of 134, all we got were the smart-but-lazy group. The main class clowns of the group were Tyler, Eric, Martin, and Dakota. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. But in this class, they were all against each other. Needless to say, there was a lot of chaos.
Because French class took place in the reading/English teacher's classroom, the amount of noise and orneriness depended on whether or not the teacher stayed in the room. M. Girard was a most disagreeable man, so the female language arts teachers did not want to stay in the room with him while he taught a foreign language. This is where the fun began.
Along with the female teacher, all of the order and quietness of the classroom leaves the moment M. Girard enters.
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One fateful day, Tyler, a what we call goofy-gifted child, was scheming with me to try to find the best way to annoy M. Girard. I told him the story about my mom--the only time she got paddled in school--and her classmates all dropping their books at the same time. Deeming my idea perfect, he told Martin and Eric to spread the word that at 2:15, everyone was to start vigorously tapping their pencil.
Everyone--and I mean everyone--started tapping their pencil. The room was extremely loud with this repeating noise, crescendoing every time anyone brought up the pace.
"Eric, stop tapping your pencil," M. Girard said. Eric, although a trouble-maker/instigator, quit. Everyone else, however, continued.
"Eric, I thought I told you to stop with the pencil tapping," M. Girard said. How he could ever fathom that Eric was making all of that noise, I'll never know.
"But Mr. Girard," Eric pleaded, fearing detention. "I'm not tapping my pencil. Don't you see everyone else doing it too?"
"Monsieur Gradenn," M. Girard relied on using formality to convince his students that he was, is, and always will be correct. "Was that backtalk I just heard? Yes, I think it was. Why don't you see yourself to the office."
Eric left the classroom-- it still was extremely loud due to all the tapping pencils--only to return a few minutes later with a slip giving him what he least wanted: detention.
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Even though our seats made a semi-circle around Mrs. Greene's room, M. Girard still demanded that we "get debout" and make a semi-circle around the room, behind our desks but in front of the computers that also encircled the room.
Right in the middle of our oral activity, Dakota, a kid with long hair and a creepy stare, threw a mousepad right across the room at Tyler. Tyler, being the easily frightened wimp he is, let out a squeak.
Although everyone in the class stated that Dakota threw the mousepad, M. Girard used his judgement, or lack thereof, to decide whom to punish. Tyler, according to M. Girard, had caused the biggest disturbance; therefore, he was to go to the office to recieve detention.
To Rosemary, Lexis, and me, this was pure entertainment: watching kids who didn't care to get detention get sent out for no reason whatsoever. Sometimes, I thought he did it just to entertain us. But you never know with M. Girard.
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One day, after Dakota had just come back from the office for writing "Mr. Girard is a f*gg*t" on the board during an activity, M. Girard decided to give him a lecture of his own. We had long ago learned that, during an individual lecture with a student, M. Girard is completely oblivious to the rest of the class.
Lexis decided to take my camera and record our whole class doing the wave. We went around the room at least four times, laughing and throwing in our own crazy dance moves, with Lexis in the center of the room, using a well-exposed camera that wasn't even allowed at school.
We got away with it, and now the video is on youtube somewhere, giving a prime example of how M.Girard has no control of his classroom.
