some of my favorite terminale students invited me for lunch today. i walked to town with seven of them, had lunch at au coteaux for eight. somehow me managed to get a table big enough for all of us during a heavy lunch rush.
i am happy to report that teenagers, in my opinion, haven't really changed since i was one myself ten years ago. they still want to be taken seriously yet find pleasure in popping baked-in air pockets in their pizza dough with their knives. they talk politics then giggle when the waiter gives one of them the wrong order. they are incensed that four requests for more water go unanswered so they bravely get up out of their chairs in a pack and search out for water, empty carafe in hand, and come back with water. then they steal a half carafe of someone else's water from an abandoned table.
they fit all stereotypes-- the goofball who ordered a 7-euro banana split for dessert, the super intense guy who rarely uncrosses his arms to let down his defenses, the kooky girl with blue streaks in her hair and mismatched stripes, the artist who rolls her own cigarettes, the somewhat awkward girl who you know will be so kick-ass in her 20s, the sweet girl who is nice to everyone, the martyr boy who never has any money but eats everyone's scraps instead, calling himself the garbage can. i felt bad for him and gave him the remainder of my coke and the girls told me, ah, it's your first meal with S, you feel bad, but you'll see, after a while you do not feel bad at all... but, true to form, they all gave him their scraps. when he started licking salt from where he'd poured it in his hand, i said, what the fuck are you doing? all dramatic and high school-like. they love these saying-- these "what the hell are you...???" or "dude, what the fuck?" they imitate my accent and i feel like i'm 17 again. i'd never go back to high school for the world but i might go back to 17 for a week or so.