On Mondays evenings, I have a course from 18 to 20 h. At which I always arrive late, as I work till 18 h 30. This delay allowed me to point something out: by coming back into a lecture theatre right in the middle of course, it is very easy to point out if course is going to be absorbing or not. The location of the students (at the bottom, or on the contrary, accumulated near the Офис), chattering, a concentrated silence or on the contrary heavy, diction of the teacher, all this informs me on the course which I get ready to follow. Most these courts were assured by a soporific teacher extremely. And one fine day, a change by entering the lecture theatre, it differred. New one teacher. And there, everything changes. I could not say what there is a different at home when she declares, but everybody is enthralled.

The point of organ arrived at 19 h 45: Line up your business (thought: great, they finished earlier) I am going to tell you a story . Stupour in the lecture theatre.

One instant in suspension, some indeed magical minutes, a delightful decline: all these a great awkward lumps of a man sat from 20 to 35 years, the head between fists, are of a blow, the only one, fallen again in childhood, eyes full of stars fastened on the mistress. Everybody listens to the mistress .

It was not however a fairy tale which she narrated us, no. But an extract of its own book. Because she was professor of schools and wrote a book, halfway between reflexion and anecdotes of class, and it is an extract which she read us. But magic operated.

I chose its option with a lot of happiness this semestre, to find it. Because his courses are one delight. Not only at the level of contents (alternative pedagogies: Freinet, institutional), whom she controls very well (she is supporter of these pedagogies), but also at the level of the way lessons are given. A benevolence, a nearness advantageous for exchange are smelt at these woman's. Still a bit and she would mollycoddle us. With her, everything seems easy. And she is only us accompanying, she does not construct reflexion on our place.

In the mouth, I have an aftertaste of childhood, at the same time sweetened, because it makes good feel just like that, and at the same time bitter, because I know that in principle, all this, it is finished for me, I am a big, it is only a respite.

And then, there there r flechissant, I tell myself that when I will be big, I want to be as her. The place of the child is not any more mine, but I hope one day to be able to give the same feeling of security that allows to surpass itself, the same pleasure, the same haste to go ongoing, the same impression as the time stopped, and that at the same time it spins too quickly, that it. Because it is always extremely magical to see, that after so many years of exercise, she always teaches without lassitude, with passion, admirably, and this role seems to be also rich as that of the child.

I could arrive at it.

For those whom this interests, here is its book (she wrote others), I well intend to buy it: Me, Mistress, from Martine Boncourt.

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