They liked it!

I'm back from 'teaching' the three classes on Chanukah to a local elementary school class, and it went really well!
Not only did I manage to tell the story of Chanukah (in French) to a bunch of students who barely speak French (and they seemed to understand!), but I also managed to get myself re-interested in improving my French skills again. Being immersed in French for just half a day made me realize that my ability to speak French fluently (although extremely rusty right now) is a real gift that I need to nurture a bit, or else lose it forever. It's been about a year (since leaving my job on mat leave) since I've spoken French and now I'm just itching to improve.

I've decided to organize my own French conversation group in my home once a week. I'm trying to get a few people to join. Hopefully it won't take too long to arrange and I'll be able to get some practice before returning to work.

Anyway, I digress. The class: The kids were sweet and interested in what I had to say. And the craft I did with them (building popsicle stick menorahs) was a real hit. All grades taught (2, 3, 4 & 5) were interested in the activity and most of them finished with pretty good results! One of the cutest moments was when one of the boys came and asked me whether I'd be willing to write down my chanukah cupcake recipe for him. Embarassed, I whispered that it was a Betty Crocker cake mix and Duncan Hines icing. "Good", he said, "so will you write down the recipe for me?". Too cute. I had to explain to him that his mom could just buy the cake mix from the store, but he didn't seem to understand.

The highlight of the day for me was when my friend (the teacher) pointed out one very quiet boy and told me that he was a new immigrant from Israel. She said that he barely spoke any English, let alone French! I approached him and asked (in my totally limited and pathetic Hebrew) "Do you speak Hebrew?". You should have seen the look on his face. It was priceless. He was so shocked and happy that someone spoke Hebrew! It looked like a weight had instantaneously been lifted off his shoulders. Poor boy. The next thing I said to him in my very broken Hebrew was "I'm sorry, I don't speak my Hebrew. But my name is Elana. What's yours?". "David", he said.

Welcome to Canada, David.