C is for Cathedral

I took three years of french in high school with Mme. P. She would change her teaching methods every two weeks and not in the good "Oh, let's challenge you" way, but in the "I'm so fed up with high school students and giving them stickers as rewards didn't seem to work, so maybe I'll try forcing them to do math in French" way. The french club would meet every month to essentially eat crepes and nutella, but one December we decided to be ambitious and visit the Cathedral de Madeleine in downtown SLC. Madame told us to wait for her on the lightrail train and when the tram started moving without her, there wasn't a whole lot we could do. I ended taking charge and getting directions from some missionaries. It took us forever to walk there and it was bitter cold and what chance did six teenage girls with limited French abilities have against the big, bad downtown? Madame showed up roughly twenty minutes later, completely unrepentant. In retrospect, we were lucky because she did the same thing to the group she took to France.


(Behind-the-scenes update: I'm right on track with 3205 words as of yesterday. But man, this writing a novel stuff is hard business!)