Remember that midterm I didn't know about last week, the one for the archaeology class? Yeah, he handed it back yesterday.
I didn't think I had done that badly.

I got a 6.5

Now, before you think to yourself, "This chick must be ridiculously stupid; a monkey with a keyboard and half the time she had to take the test could get better than a 6.5. Don't they give you more than that for writing your name on the sheet?"

The answer to that question is yes, they do give you more than that just for writing your name-- IN THE USA. But since I was taking this test in the good ol' R of F, they don't. But on the bright side, the French grading system is terribly weird, so a 6.5 does not equal 6.5 in the US. Their grades are on a scale of 20-- but not on a scale of 20 like you can multiply 6.5 x 5 and get my actual grade (which would then be a 32.5, which is still nothing to write home about, as it is still flunking.) But because the grades are on a scale of 20, they (because they are so terribly logical with everything, the French) count each letter grade as the same number of points. So, since there are five possible letter grades (some classes have six because in France you can get an "E" on a test), and twenty total points, each letter is 4 points.
Thus an A is 17 and up; a B is 13-17; etc., (This can not be that complicated if The Girl Who Refused To Take Calculus can understand it, right?). This means that my 6.5 is ACTUALLY a pretty solid... well, D, but still, it's better than an F, right?
I can laugh about the 6.5 because I am American and because I don't think I have ever actually gotten a D on anything in my life... Prior to this incident, I would have gone so far as to say that after a semester of constantly being unable to communicate and being forced to resort to gestures (combined with two summers spent working with middle schoolers in sweaty outdoor climates, as well as a lot of other really ridiculous things I have done), I thought I was above being embarrassed.
I was wrong.

The professor handed the stack of tests to the kid sitting at the end of the first row and told him to fish his out of the pile and pass them on. But then, perhaps realizing that I would be embarassed to have everyone in the class SEE my 6.5 (though it really doesn't matter since none of them know my name anyway), he grabbed the stack back from the kid, pulled my test out of it, hands the stack back to the kid, and comes over to me. Now I started to get nervous.
A transcript of what was to follow, as translated into the Modern English by me:
Blair, in her head: "Shoot, this means he is going to talk to me."
Archaeology Prof, out loud: "FRENCHfrenchFRENCHfrenchFRENCHfrenchFRENCHfrench."
Blair, in her head: "Oh no, that is my test he is holding. He is probably talking about it. I should probably start listening to what he is saying. Dang it, why am I thinking this in English, quick, switch to Francais. Ok, ok, je pense, je pense, mais qu'est-ce qu'il a dit?"
[nods head when Professor pauses, as she guesses appropriate]
Archaeology Prof, still in French, translated: "You didn't do too well on this, but don't worry, it's really not a big deal..."
Blair, in her head, in French: "Right... right, easy for you to say not a big deal-- it's not one of YOUR two grades for the semester in this class."
Archaeology Prof continues: "it's not a big deal at all, don't worry, you did fine considering you are American and this is not at all the scale you are used to, so this grade does not mean the same thing that it would in the US, so don't think you are going to fail or anything."
Blair: "ok, ok, no problem, all right, thank you!" thinking "Please stop talking to me, this is so awkward, and you must think I am so stupid! Should I tell you that I didn't know about it, or will that make it worse since then it is just stupid that I couldn't figure out what you were saying?"
Archaeology Professor: "Oh, also, we need to schedule a time for you to meet up with me to do your oral interrogation for this class."
What Blair thinks is going to come out of her mouth: "Do you want me to do the oral final before Christmas break or after?"
What actually comes out of her mouth: "Vous me voulez...?" ("Do you want me?")

I should have kept talking then, ignored the rather awkward mistake I had just made (It's a pretty dirty thing to say in French, also a pick up line), but when I realized what I had said I got so nervous and freaked out that I just stopped talking because I didn't want to make it worse. So he tries not to grin and says,
"Pardon?"
Blair trying to fix what just happened: "I mean, uh, do you want me to take the test in January?"
Prof: "Wait, you are going to be here in January? Oh, that is fabulous news! Yes, we wait until January then! Perfect!"

This is the same professor that, about three weeks ago, I tu-ed mercilessly in conversation, calling him by the informal "you" instead of the proper one, despite the fact that even though HE is the professor he has always called me by the formal one. So after first asking him, more or less, to be my friend by calling him "tu" instead of "vous," I now have also tried to pick him up. Great.
Oh well, my only hope is that someday he will be walking down the Champs-Elysees and pass a Presse, and see a smiling brunette face staring at him from the ads on the side of the kiosk and think to himself, "Cette femme-la, elle me parait tres tres familiere... je pense que je lui ai connu, peut-etre? That woman in the ad looks so familiar, I think I must have met her sometime... but why would I have ever met a woman who lives in Paris and is working as a band-aid? And what is this, since when do band-aids and groupies make it on to the cover of Le Monde? Oh, but look at this gramatically proper sentence that she is quoted as having said, she must be a vrai parisienne after all. I wonder why she looks so familiar? I know, it must be because she looks so much like that Molly Ringwald who was in all those movies from the US when I was a kid."
Je rigole,
B