As a teacher, I believe that the best thing I can do for students is to teach them how to love learning. We do a very poor job in the United States of remembering that learning is the primary purpose of school; we teach students to fear bad grades despite the fact that they are the clearest sign of learning yet to be done. It took me until after I graduated from Tufts to realize how much I loved to learn. So, in the spirit of reflecting on and appreciating learning, here is a non-exhaustive list of what I’ve learned after one month in Toulouse.

1. You Can Always Just Go for a Walk

There were a few times this month where I genuinely didn’t know what to do. There are so many options when exploring a new city, many of them not cheap, and my impulse in these moments of indecision was to scroll on my phone, looking at options but not actually engaging in any of them. Live music, museums, restaurants, parks, classes - it’s impossible to describe the sheer quantity of stuff that exists in a major city like Toulouse. So, I’ve been practicing the subtle art of putting my phone away and just walking. Without an agenda, I could walk to Rue de Metz, or la Capitole, or the banks of the Garonne. It’s so much easier to pick something to do when your feet lead you directly there, whether on purpose or by accident.

Last Saturday, I got a late start to the day with no real agenda. So, I started walking, and I discovered Pech David, the series of trails I described last week. I hadn’t really planned on a hike (my empty backpack was proof of that). But, I got a really nice hike on a hot day.

So, I’ve learned to start walking. Even if you don’t find anything, a walk is still a nice way to spend your time.

2. Perfection Doesn’t Exist

I love how curious the people I’ve met have been. I was reading in a park when a woman and her adorable golden retriever found a bench a few down from mine. After reaching the end of a chapter (currently reading: The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August - highly recommend so far!), I asked her if I could say hi to her dog. She obliged me and told me all about Lilu (I’m guessing at the spelling, but it was pronounced Lee-Loo), who was thrilled to meet me and the pastry crumbs remaining on my hands after breakfast. She (the woman, not the dog) and I ended up chatting for a while about our dogs, swapping pictures and stories. Lilu did not want to see me go, putting her head directly on my feet as I stood up, confirming my long-held belief that golden retrievers have a second heart where their brain should be. So, we ended up talking more, and I eventually fielded the question of my accent and what brought it to Toulouse. It turns out, this woman (whose name I never got - go figure) was also a teacher, and we ended up talking about all of the similarities and differences in education between France and the US.

Being so firmly entrenched in American public education, I figured that the American education system would pale in comparison to the French. But, we had much, much more in common than I ever realized. Teachers in France are exhausted, underpaid, and get caught up in politics and bureaucracy. Like in the US, most teachers have Master’s degrees, and most schools face teacher shortages. She had dealt with students who dropped out, a loss of motivation and inspiration, and ever-changing curriculum standards made by non-teachers. There were some differences that made me envious - especially that every teacher is given a large budget with which to buy supplies, easing the burden to stock their own classrooms - but mostly, this conversation helped me to realize that teaching is hard everywhere, and there are no perfect solutions.

I should also point out that this was a really challenging conversation to have in French for me, especially with a cute dog licking my face throughout. So, I wasn’t perfect either, but we got our points across and learned a lot about one another’s cultures. What a perfect symbol: A person struggling but learning how to proceed, motivated intrinsically by the prospect of mutual understanding and deeper connection. Why can’t school be like that? (Don’t get me started).

This was just one of many fascinating conversations I had with locals. Overall, I learned that the French love to be French, but their patriotism compels them to be critical of the issues affecting their lives, many of which we share in the US: Homelessness, cost of living, employment, social benefits, respect for the arts, respect for identity. So, they recognize their country’s imperfections, and despite those imperfections, they have a solid, unified, cultural identity. Let’s just say that it’s different from what I’m used to.

3. Say Hi to the Grocer

There’s a fresh produce market across the street from my Airbnb. The proprietor, Abdoul, is perhaps the friendliest man I have ever met. When I first walked in, on my second or third day here, he immediately brought me on a tour of his shop, telling me all of his plans to grow the business and how he sources fresh fruits and vegetables from local farmers. At one point, he disappeared around a corner for a few seconds only to reappear with a massive slice of watermelon that he practically shoved in my mouth.

“Goutez, mon ami! C’est parfaitement fraîche.” (Try this, my friend. It’s perfectly fresh).

He wasn’t wrong.

Whenever I went back to that market, Abdoul remembered my name and picked out the best cut of watermelon for me. He squeezed pineapple juice with a huge cast iron press, letting me try for free, then charging me just one euro for a full liter. He was determined to guess where I was from - Spanish? British? Irish? Mexican? - and was overjoyed to learn that I was American. Or, at least I think he was, as he seemed to be overjoyed by absolutely everything.

So, what I learned is to say hi to the guy at the grocery store. This requires going to the local shops, asking questions, and always taking the free samples. He did more to make me feel like a part of the local community than anyone.

…and Much More

In no particular order, here are some other things I’ve learned:

  1. A freshly baked baguette is perhaps the most common sight in Toulouse, making it the truest stereotype I’ve ever witnessed. And, it is completely acceptable for it to be a full meal on its own (though is made infinitely better with chèvre and fresh tomatoes from Abdoul).

  2. The French love to swear. And, mostly, they swear in English.

  3. A French meal should never pass quickly. The waitstaff will never rush you out, and work lunches will often extend longer than an hour, with coffee, salad, entree, and dessert. And, regardless of what you order, they want to make sure you enjoy it. I got a coffee at a little café, and I asked if I could also have a simple slice of buttered toast. I was served a generous half-loaf of bread with mixed greens, pickled onions, and perhaps the best butter I’ve ever tasted. Total cost: ̄2,50 euros.

  4. Always double check whether you are too tall for your Airbnb. I expected a cozy loft (which I got), but I didn’t expect to hit my head almost every day.

  5. Never assume that the Nespresso logo means that the pods will work in your machine. I’m currently staring at two full packages of Nespresso pods that together produced zero cups of coffee. I’ll give them to Abdoul.

  6. Never let a time difference get in the way of maintaining your favorite activities. I’m determined to continue playing D&D with my longtime group, which saw me logging onto Discord at 1:30 AM. Totally worth the extra caffeine the next day.

  7. Go back to Toulouse. There’s still much more to do!

Speaking of more to do, my bags are almost all packed for the Azores - I leave tomorrow morning.

All the best to everyone back home, and a very happy birthday to my niece!

Until next time,

Ethan

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