Weekly Letter from Jean-Yves - Reacting to a Scolding
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the scolding I received during my last p’tit-déj. The reason for the scolding was my far too intermittent presence at the Maternelle Building and the feeling that a few misunderstandings could have been avoided or better managed had I been there in person (an impression, which may be giving me too much credit but may also not be entirely wrong).
Weekly Letter from Jean-Yves - Set Design
This week, The École could easily have been mistaken for a school from a movie set: between 22nd Street being taken over on Monday and Tuesday to film a movie or a TV show or both (no one can really say for certain), the UN World Water Day documentary today, and of course the Hollywood star-style Picture Day yesterday – when every single student dazzled – these last few days have been cinematic, to say the least!
Weekly Letter from Jean-Yves - Rising to the Challenge
If I had to describe my week at school during February Break, I would compare it to the NYC subway on weekends: the trains run, of course, but there are fewer of them and they go more slowly. I was like an express train making local stops, lingering at every station, and taking my time to cross the city.
Weekly Letter from Jean-Yves - On Corneille (Kind of...)
After a month of January that seemed to drag on for 86 days and a start to February that slipped through our fingers faster than you can say Valentine’s Day, we find ourselves on the brink of a break (again/finally/already – depending on who you talk to!) Today, The École resembled the opposite of Corneille’s alexandrine:
As 322 we started, | but because of early departures:
To 213 we dropped | as dismissal approached.*
Weekly Letter from Jean-Yves - Sporting Memories
The first time I heard the words Madison Square Garden was in 1981 when Ivan Lendl and Vitas Gerulaitis played the final of the tennis masters there. I remember watching the match on TV late into the night at my grandparents’ house. A passion for tennis was born—or as Andria would put it “a passion for all televised sport.” Basketball fans might consider it a heresy, but last Saturday, while the Falcons were waiting anxiously in the tunnel, I thought of that night in 1981 and of that little boy in France jumping around the living room and burying his face in the cushions because he couldn’t stand the suspense of the tiebreaks.