Day 4: Friendship is a most wonderful thing!

First, we had another great day.  I hate to jinx us, but this weather has been outstanding...it is also another weak wifi night.  No idea when pictures from today will be posted, but yesterdays are up.

Our arrival at the hotel last night was predicated by warnings of an early awakening and followed a really long day.  The hotel was clearly a budget hotel.  It was bare bones and they couldn't even afford doors on the showers, lol.  It served its purpose, however, and gave us a comfortable bed and some pillows.  Breakfast was your typical budget hotel breakfast.  I had a double espresso, some yogurt with granola, and a ham and cheese sandwich (Please, don't judge).  The kids were spoiled at the Heston Hyde, but hey, they are in Europe and didn't seem to let it get them down.  We packed up the bus and got ready for another day....this one, we knew would be special.

A few years ago, I made my students read a speech from former French President Mitterrand.  He was vacationing at Lake Winnipesaukee and he spoke of how France was America's oldest friend.  The article was really enlightening.  He said something to the effect that your oldest friend is one that you can disagree with at times, but is truly always there for you.  Today, that speech resonated with me.  I've longed to visit Normandy.  As a teenager, I did an exchange for three weeks in France.  My host family actually vacationed to Normandy while I was with them, but they shuffled me off to another family for the weekend.   Today, I was there.

We left the hotel and departed for the Memorial de Caen.  This was an excellent way to start the day.  The museum began at the conclusion of the First World War and then, from a chronological perspective, explained how the tensions of World War One built the stage for the Second World War.  The kids were enthralled and it was clear to all of the adults that we were going to need a little more time.  Throughout the museum, kids came out of their shells and could be seen asking Ms. Alongi, David, and myself questions about history.  EF stands for Education First and that was very clear this morning.  It was wicked cool!!!

The entrance to the museum.

The American Garden - The right side is underneath a waterfall

Some kids at the Canadian Garden

The Group.

That first trip was so transformative for me.  It awakened a passion for travel.  It confirmed my love of history.  It gave me a sense of independence that, otherwise, I may have not learned.  It made me confident, comfortable, and curious about the world around me.  Although I did not go to Normandy, I did make French friends several of whom I still communicate with today.  I suppose one could argue that France is my oldest friend when it comes to international travel and I am so glad to get reacquainted with her.

After the museum, we took off for Arromanches.  This little French fishing village is also known by its D-Day landing sight: Juno Beach.  It is here, where our friends from Canada made their approach in Europe to push back the Nazis.  Shortly after the invasion, the Allied forces built a temporary naval base called Port Winston at Arromanches. 2.5 Million soldiers eventually landed at this floating harbor and they helped turn the tide of the Second World War.  As I walked around this town, trying to make sure all of our kids were comfortable ordering food in French, I was so pleased to see them eating.  They tried their French and were successful.  So many of them came up to me to tell me their stories about speaking another language...one not even offered at their high school.

The whole purpose of my trip to France about 20 years ago was to practice my French.  It was not my strongest class (I got a D), but I signed up with the 25 or so kids and off we went.  Learning a foreign language today is so important and although I squandered my opportunity to speak French fluently, I cherish those memories from my youth...not just the ones in France, but the ones in French class.  I cannot stand that we don't offer French and I am even more upset to think that our current world language offerings might be sacrificed due to budget cuts.  Those classes were so important to me and I know they are important to our kids.  Saugus kids deserve better.

The kids at Arromanches reminded me of that speech from Mitterrand.  They had broken down those cultural barriers and through our historical friendship, our kids were opening up with the people of France.  The older French people that they met understood this relationship more than anyone else.  Without that age old friendship, our worlds would be very different today.  Without the sacrifices of those in our past, the friendship, and this trip, would not have occurred.

Another kid from Saugus probably understood this friendship too.  I was reminded of his young man last week, when I took two of our travelers (Sunshine and Caroline) into Boston for Massachusetts State Student Government Day.  Outside the representative chamber, there lies several plaques.  They list the Massachusetts recipients of the Medal of Honor from all of our wars since the American Civil War.  As I glanced at this list of honorable veterans, I saw a name that was not new to me.  The Medal of Honor is the highest award given by the US Military.  It is only given to those who are truly worthy and have risked their lives for their fellow soldiers.  This young man was born in March of 1919...just after World War One had concluded.  He would have attended the Old Central High School and, from what I could tell, he probably lived near Lincoln Ave.  At the time of the D-Day invasion, he was 25 years old.  He had attained the rank of Staff Sergeant and was in command of a unit in the 18th Infantry Division.  I'm not sure if he was part of the initial wave of American GIs, but I am aware that Arthur D. DeFranzo gave his life four days after the assault had begun.  His Medal of Honor Citation tells the story, but to summarize it, Arthur went into a field to rescue a wounded soldier.  He, himself, was wounded, but he did return the injured man to American doctors.  He then refused treatment for himself and led his men to the Germans who had already set their sights on them.  He was wounded several more times, but he pushed forward.  He is credited with throwing several grenades that ultimately quieted the German guns and saved his unit...DeFranzo, however, was killed.

The French people at Arromanches most assuredly did not know Arthur DeFranzo, but they know his sacrifice.  Many of their homes adorn French, British, Canadian, and American flags.  They stand in stark contrast to those who say the French resent the American way of life.  These people understand the value of friendship and sticking by those friends when the going gets tough.  I think, through the lessons of Arromaches, Arthur DeFranzo, and our visit to Ohama Beach, our students understand that value as well.  The American cemetery at Ohama Beach is one of the most impressive sights I've ever seen.  There are nearly 10,000 Americans interred at the cemetery which sits on a hill just about where the American troops landed on June 6, 1944.  The waves of the beaches and the birds chirping in the background bring a solace to the location that was not present 70 years ago.  The smell of freshly cut green grass and the general cleanliness of the area makes it hard to imagine the same location after the invasion began.  We walked quietly through the cemetery and shared a moment of silence for those victims and the victims of the Boston Marathon.  Fittingly, as we ended our moment of silence, church bells rang and we continued our experience down the steep steps to the beach.  We walked, some with our shoes off, through the same sand our ancestors walked upon.  As our toes felt the cold sting of the English Channel, we were reminded of the struggle these men, not much older than our travelers endured...troubles they endured because of an unwritten friendship and because it was the right thing to do.  I will forever remember this day.

We traveled to Pont du Hoc and saw the remnants of Germany artillery and pillboxes.  A little levity began to re-emerge among us and we took the long bus ride to the hotel.  I had mentioned to the students that Arthur DeFranzo had been killed in a tiny village called Vaubodon.  It was in the general direction of our hotel, but the coach driver was concerned that the roads would be too narrow.  I was hopeful that we could make it down that small French country road.  We would have found a small church with a statue dedicated to soldiers who lost their lives in the Second World War.  While much smaller than Saugus, Vaubodon would have reminded our students about sacrifice, and honor, and friendship.  If I ever find myself in Normandy again, I will seek out this village and pay my respects as I hope our students do if they find themselves at Riverside Cemetery, the final resting place of Staff Sergeant DeFranzo and so many other veterans of our town.

Budget cuts are a harsh reality of life in Saugus.  I remember, around the same time as my trip, that my teachers were concerned for their jobs and felt as though the schools did not receive enough funding.  They can be depressing to talk about...and to read about.  I am sorry for even bringing it up, but this blog is me, and my opinions, and these potential cuts are on my mind.  I sometimes think other residents of town don't realize how great our kids really are...a few bad apples sour their impression, perhaps.  I can't think that way, however.  I refuse too.  Today, our kids did it again.  They made me believe.  Their respect, their solemnity, their decorum...it was all outstanding.  They asked the right questions, when it was time to ask questions.  They removed their caps, when it was the right time to do so, and they reaffirmed my believe in them.

On these trips, we often find a watershed moment that kids talk about for their rest of their lives.  Today, I was reminded of that in such an impressive manner.  A couple of students were asking me some questions about the Holocaust while we were at the museum.  I started to answer, but then I realized that Tayla G. was their as well.  She had traveled last year on our History of the Holocaust tour.  I asked Tayla to answer the question and she did so splendidly. I was so impressed with her.  For her, on that trip, our moment came at Auschwitz.  (For those new to the blog, you can read about last years trip by clicking here) This trip, for these kids, that moment might have happened today...not at the cemetery or at the beaches, but at our new hotel.

How does a friendship start? Is it possible between individuals who do not speak the same language?  Do ages play into it.  I know that, historically, the United States and France have always been allies (The little spat they had around 1796 not included), but it is strange to consider their political friendship strong enough to transcend the opinions and thoughts of all of their citizens.  Tonight, in Dinan, France, there is a little girl whose name is something I cannot pronounce, but she can count among her friends nearly 50 American high school students and it is all because of flunch.  Flunch...the strange buffet restaurant that some of our kids ate the other night has been a bit of a running joke since dinner.  Imagine, how strange it was to me to see our kids excited about Flunch tonight after dinner at our hotel.  I walked over to inspect their happiness and found them engaged in the "Flunch World Cup" soccer tournament.  There were five teams and they played timed halves.  A quick bracket was built by Lexi and the games began...I know what you are thinking, "How can they be playing soccer?"

Our hotel for the next two nights is really a bed and breakfast.  It is family run and operated, but it has 20 rooms.  It is a little compound next to the highway, but it has a ping-pong table, a basketball hoop, and a plethora of soccer balls.  The family who runs the hotel is originally from Quebec, Canada, and as far as I can tell there are a total of three children.  Ben looks to be about the same age as our kids and he has two little sisters.  They helped serve dinner tonight and our kids were trying out their new French vocabulary on them.  All of the children were initially outside, but it was the youngest who seemed most taken by the "Flunch World Cup."  She is probably about 7 years old, but our kids didn't care.  They invited her onto one of the teams and she ended up scoring a goal...or two.  She was smiling ear to ear.  When it started to get dark and it was time to turn in, I saw quite a few of our kids posing for selfies with her.  Even though there was a communication gap, and even though I don't even know this little girls name, I witnessed the very friendship I've been thinking an awful lot about recently.

In two days, we will depart for Paris.  We will build new memories and have new adventures.  The Flunch World Cup will eventually fade away from our thoughts.  It's lesson, however, will never die.  Deep within that little girl's mind, she will probably always remember the group of Americans who showed up at her house and let her play soccer.  When in high school, and her friends are railing against the United States, she will remember all of our kids screaming for her when she scored that goal.  As an adult, at some point in her life, she will see some teenage American kids.  Maybe at a store where she works, or struggling to read a Metro sign, or walking around Charles de Gaulle Airport with a clueless look on their face.  At that point, she will probably have had English classes throughout her schooling and she will feel compelled to speak with them, to help them...not just because it is the right thing to do, but because she knows that's how friends act towards each other.

Mr. Lavoie, currently reminiscing about his old French friends and hoping he'll be able to reconnect with them someday.