And the Award for the Most Exotic Teacher goes to....Me?

I've never thought of myself as "exotic." Far from, in fact. I'm more likely to compare myself to "Sarah, Plain and Tall" than Sarah Palin. Growing up in Dallas, Oregon, doesn't exactly rate high on the list of "Cool Places to Say You've Lived." And yet, somehow, I've suddenly found myself as the "cool" one -- the person who has not only been to the United States, but who has actually lived there. On top of that, I speak English, meaning that I can understand the obnoxious music being played in every French store and watch American films in their original language. AND, to top it all off, I have actually been to Hollywood and seen Grauman's Chinese Theatre. That right there makes me the coolest person on the planet in the eyes of my French students.

From the "oohs" and "aaahs" they elicit when they hear me easily speak my native language, one might think that I am one of the celebrities they claim I know so well. "You are from the United States," they say. "Don't you know Fifty Cent? Don't you love his music?" (*insert gagging noise here*)

I was beginning to think that I was completely and totally alone here at my school -- that only the English professors knew my name, and I was doomed to walk around the campus as "that weird girl wearing flip-flops outside." After teaching a half a dozen classes already, I am starting to recognize faces, and I wave to students I know. Still, nothing prepared me for the initiation of the post-lunch Sarah Gallup Fan Club.

It started with the 10th grade boy from one of my classes the day before. Yesterday, he asked me how old I was ("'ow ould aaah yoo?"), and then quickly added, "Yoo aaah veddy bee-oo-tiful!" (*insert uncontrollable blushing here*). When I saw him in the hall today, I heard him say, "It's Sarah, the American!" Then he gave me a little shy smile and a wave, so I waved back and winked at him. Hee hee.

I walked past the boy, and into the next hallway, where a girl I recognized said, "Hello, Madame." I waved hi, and walked past her, where another girl said, "Hi, Sarah!" That was followed by, "It's Sarah!!" That remark made the rest of the hall turn their heads and look at me as I walked by. Lined on both sides of the hallway, the students broke out in cries of, "Helloooo, Sarah Gallup!!" "It's Sarah Gallup!!!" "Helloooooo!" "Sarah, hi! Hi, Sarah, hello!!" I felt not unlike a movie star basking in the glow of her fans.

It's funny, too, because it's my students that I see as exotic. I mean, seriously, to an American growing up in the boondocks of Oregon, anyone who speaks French, lives along the Mediterranean, and has fashion and style embedded into their genes is the one who is exotic -- not me! But here it is the contrary. I tell my stories about men in cowboy hats in Central Oregon, who talk on their cell phones as they ride a horse into town, and I watch as their eyes widen in disbelief. I tell them that I have been to Beverly Hills and, although I cannot recall seeing any movie stars, that's where many of them live.

They seem confused by the fact that I don't listen to rap or eat at McDonald's. They don't understand why I don't own a gun (because apparently, all Americans are supposed to own one) or why I don't hang out in East Harlem. They are surprised that I have never been to New York, but most of them have never even been to Paris!! I consider that a weekend trip (and am doing so this weekend, in fact).

I didn't expect to be this "famous" in Perpignan, as the token American in their school. But I'll certainly take advantage of it, and bask in its glory...as long as no paparazzi show up.