a Valentine’s Day story for period 5

A few years ago, I was standing in a classroom as a first-year teacher, making all kinds of a typical novice’s mistakes…and then some.  They say that your first class is particularly special, particularly memorable.  Perhaps this is true, but I will have to let the years and time tell that story.  However, that particular cohort of students who I saw through two years of French had their own special magic as a group.  And one of those moments came out on our first Valentine’s Day together 🙂  This story is theirs.

I’m not sure that the story was first fabricated on Valentine’s Day itself.  In fact, I suspect that it was the day before as excitement (and dread) filled the air over America’s holiday of “love.”  Conversation hearts, Hallmark cards, and the cliche dozen of roses leaving something to be desired for many.  However, on this day, somewhere in the middle of class, these students concocted such a far and away enduring story about my hot Valentine’s Day date.  I have no idea who started it, but suddenly French class had taken a turn and the students were elaborately telling each other that I had a hot date with a Frenchman who worked for AirFrance changing lightbulbs.  It’s not every that students come up with this level of detail–or absurdity–and I found myself doubled over with laughter.

What became so surprising was the longevity of the joke.  Weeks, months, and days later there would be sly side comments made about the status of our “relationship” if the lights weren’t working, and on a couple of occasions, I even wove the theme into fill-in-the-blank questions on their French quizzes.  The story remained in the wings, being pulled out from time to time for a few smiles.

A few years later, in early 2011, I was flying back to Pittsburgh from Omaha on Frontier Airlines.  I had just finished a few intense days of packing and shipping the remainder of my things and had brought a book on the plane to unwind.  As the cabin lights were turned off, I reached up to turn on my courtesy light.  I pressed the button once.  No response.  I pressed it again.  Still no response.  Before trying for a third time, I reached up to adjust the angle of the light and the glass covering came off into my hand.  I grinned.  And wondered where in the world my light-bulb-changing Frenchman was.  Suddenly, I could see their laughing faces–the ones of my students joking around about the fact that one of the rows of lights in the classroom wasn’t working.  This is a love story for period 5 and the memories that still make me smile.