Up Until Friday
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Well, the salon visit was fun. Four of us got the exact same haircut despite giving separate descriptions. Unfortunately, as none of us have Moroccan hair, the cut is not the best. Oh well, it was 40dhm.
The last few days absolutely flew by. We had our last culture class, and Mekouar revealed himself as the least professional man I have ever encountered. He announced everyone's grades before the entire class without asking if that would be all right. He proceeded to orally criticize everything about Carolyn's paper. She asked him repeatedly if they could talk about it after class together, he said, "all right," and then continued criticizing it in the most horrid way possible. He never once had told us what he wanted for these papers or any other assignemnt. He told us that he had lowered his expectations for us because the American grading system is different. By the end of class, every single person was either fuming or fighting tears.
The last Arabic class was so too sad. We were thrown a surprise party by our professors, but Farah made us promise not to tell because they've never done such for any of the SIT programs. That afternoon started the first of many cake fights to follow. It started with the second-level class students getting their teacher but ended with most everyone having frosting somewhere on their faces.
The Arabic final was nothing bad. Hanane had given us a practice final the day before to prep us, so we were in the right mind set for it. At one point I had to go asked Hanane what a word meant. The word in question meant "zero," and boy did I feel stupid once she had clarified that. Once we had all finished up, we took our things from our houses and schlepped to the Hotel Majestic where I stayed in room 307, directly above where I stayed for orientation.
We did the program evaluation at the center afterwards. We sat in the class where the elective classes were held and covered topics such as the homestay, Arabic class, gender class, culture class, orientation, excursion, professors, the library, etc. We were having a thoroughly good discussion and went over our time limit by twenty minutes, making us have to rush through dinner.
Still, it was a lovely farewell dinner. It was our last time with Brahim's cooking, and it was just delicious. Pear-avocado-tomato salad, carrots, peas, beef, stewed figs, nectarines, and quince fruits. Amanda B turned 21, and Susanna had made her a beautiful ice cream cake. Yes, there was another fight with that cake. The history class professor and Mekouar showed up to eat with us. Everyone adores the history professor while everyone hates Mekouar, thus the former was kept in the conversation while the latter was completely ignored.
Following dinner was a musical performance and a reception to say goodbye to the families. Hanane had told me that she would come but she never did, and I was rather heart-broken. The reception was fun enough though with all the other families and the musical group. One man was playing a percussion instrument that resembled a metal dog food bowl. He balanced it on his head and went at it with a great force. My ears were ringing everytime he had a solo, and I can't imagine what it was like for him.
Once the music was over the sadness started to happen. All the CCCL staff went around hugging and kissing us goodbye. Farah and Brahim were definitely the hardest for me to say goodbye to. I was crying by the time I had stepped out the center, for I knew that it would be my last time in there. The walk to the hotel that evening was possibly the longest in my life.
Well, the salon visit was fun. Four of us got the exact same haircut despite giving separate descriptions. Unfortunately, as none of us have Moroccan hair, the cut is not the best. Oh well, it was 40dhm.
The last few days absolutely flew by. We had our last culture class, and Mekouar revealed himself as the least professional man I have ever encountered. He announced everyone's grades before the entire class without asking if that would be all right. He proceeded to orally criticize everything about Carolyn's paper. She asked him repeatedly if they could talk about it after class together, he said, "all right," and then continued criticizing it in the most horrid way possible. He never once had told us what he wanted for these papers or any other assignemnt. He told us that he had lowered his expectations for us because the American grading system is different. By the end of class, every single person was either fuming or fighting tears.
The last Arabic class was so too sad. We were thrown a surprise party by our professors, but Farah made us promise not to tell because they've never done such for any of the SIT programs. That afternoon started the first of many cake fights to follow. It started with the second-level class students getting their teacher but ended with most everyone having frosting somewhere on their faces.
The Arabic final was nothing bad. Hanane had given us a practice final the day before to prep us, so we were in the right mind set for it. At one point I had to go asked Hanane what a word meant. The word in question meant "zero," and boy did I feel stupid once she had clarified that. Once we had all finished up, we took our things from our houses and schlepped to the Hotel Majestic where I stayed in room 307, directly above where I stayed for orientation.
We did the program evaluation at the center afterwards. We sat in the class where the elective classes were held and covered topics such as the homestay, Arabic class, gender class, culture class, orientation, excursion, professors, the library, etc. We were having a thoroughly good discussion and went over our time limit by twenty minutes, making us have to rush through dinner.
Still, it was a lovely farewell dinner. It was our last time with Brahim's cooking, and it was just delicious. Pear-avocado-tomato salad, carrots, peas, beef, stewed figs, nectarines, and quince fruits. Amanda B turned 21, and Susanna had made her a beautiful ice cream cake. Yes, there was another fight with that cake. The history class professor and Mekouar showed up to eat with us. Everyone adores the history professor while everyone hates Mekouar, thus the former was kept in the conversation while the latter was completely ignored.
Following dinner was a musical performance and a reception to say goodbye to the families. Hanane had told me that she would come but she never did, and I was rather heart-broken. The reception was fun enough though with all the other families and the musical group. One man was playing a percussion instrument that resembled a metal dog food bowl. He balanced it on his head and went at it with a great force. My ears were ringing everytime he had a solo, and I can't imagine what it was like for him.
Once the music was over the sadness started to happen. All the CCCL staff went around hugging and kissing us goodbye. Farah and Brahim were definitely the hardest for me to say goodbye to. I was crying by the time I had stepped out the center, for I knew that it would be my last time in there. The walk to the hotel that evening was possibly the longest in my life.
posted by Athena | 12:47 PM
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