On Friday, Skip announced that there was this extra credit assignment that he could do in his French class, if we thought it was something that, like, you know, might be something that... well, you know...
The boy, he is so eloquent.
But it is good to have an extra credit assignment, seeing as I managed to take a peek at his French notebook, and discovered that he has a D.
Yes, that's my straight A student, with a D on his French notebook. Certainly explains the surprise B- grade this quarter in French, when he said that he was doing 'fine' on tests and assignments. And while I'm hoping that the notebook grade is something that can be cleared up with a little more communication (notebooks are graded as 'responses to learning', where you have to produce something that shows you are paying attention to what is being taught. At the beginning of the year, a list was sent home of 'appropriate responses', and include things like "make a travel poster','write a short skit to perform with a classmate', and 'use glitter to advertise a French product', etc. You can see how it's dancing on that fine line of 'Interpretive Dance" that drives Skip nuts, can't you? Well, he chose, from the teacher's list, "Make a set of flash cards on a ring with the day's vocabulary", and has been doing that ALL YEAR. But you can't attach flash cards to the notebook, can you? So his notebook pages say "See Flash Card Ring", instead of barfing glitter when you turn the pages. Apparently, the teacher didn't accept anything that wasn't "attached to the notebook", so Skip's mark is woefully low. All that he needs to do is just GO IN AND TALK TO HER, and I am sure this will be ironed out. And I am trying not to get involved.)
That was quite the diversion from where I wanted to go here...
The Extra Credit Assignment.
"If you MAKE and bring in a Buche de Noel to share with the class on Monday, you will receive extra credit."
Seeing as Ken has been making this fabulous mocha log since 1984, he figured this was the sign that it was time to pass on the mantle of log-making responsibility to the Firstborn Son.
And seeing as Ken's mocha log is pretty legendary, I thought it best to document this passing of the torch. Also? I can email the teacher PROOF that Skip actually did the work.
While I took over 100 photos of the process, and 62 made it into the album that I emailed to the teacher, I will not bore you with all of them. But here are a few choice shots, with the Google Translate pseudo-francais captions.
"D'abord, je beurre la plaque à biscuits."
(First, I butter the cookie sheet)
Je n'aime pas le beurre sur mes doigts.
(I don't like getting butter on my fingers)
J'ai mis du papier ciré sur la plaque à biscuits.
(I put wax paper on the cookie sheet)
Je mesure le cacao. Notre boîte de cacao canadienne est presque vide.
(I measure the cocoa. Our tin of Canadian cocoa is nearly empty)
Le sel est de la France, de la Camargue, (ma mère l'a acheté le sel en guise de souvenir)
(The salt is from France, on the Camargue, (my mom bought it as a souvenir)
Je n'aime pas les oeufs sur mes doigts
(I don't like getting eggs on my fingers)
Je laisse la machine faire tout le travail.
(I let the machine do all the work)
Pas de photos!
Le gâteau est cuit.
(The cake is cooked)
Pourquoi est-ce une plaque à biscuits si chaud?
(Why is this cookie sheet so hot?)
Mes doigts sont délicates. Ouch!
(My fingers are delicate. Ouch!)
Le premier rouleau!
(The first rolling)
Il est temps de dérouler la bûche.
(It is time to unroll the log)
Et voilà comment je roule... Ne va vous abandonner
(and this is how I roll... Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down...)
Yes, French Teacher. You have been RickRolled! In French, even. I wonder if she will even look at the pictures, though... Oh well, it sure was funny at midnight, let me tell you.
J'ai coupé une petite branche
(I cut a little branch)
Il est presque fini.
(It is nearly finished)
Une erreur à minuit? Bof.
(An error at midnight? What-EVER)
(by the end - it was 12:30 when he was frosting the thing - we were all getting a little punchy. He kept dropping glops of the mocha whipped cream onto the kitchen counter, so it soon became a game. Of course, I had to photograph the mess, which I then put under a little 'interdit!' circle.)