My Funny Classmate "J"

I've had some experiences with classmates here in Paris that I would qualify as somewhat odd (and sometimes disappointing), but I'm just at the end (I think) of one that still has me scratching my head.

My class now contains 6 women and 2 men. There are three older women (i.e., more than 25 years old) from Russia, Serbia, and England, three younger women (from Mexico, Germany, and Albania, the last being the first person I've ever met from Albania and also a dead ringer for a young woman I know in Santa Rosa, all the way down to the smile and the expressions), an older guy from Ireland, and me. This post is about the woman from Mexico, who, for purposes of anonymity, and because I've never been able to figure out or remember her name, I'll call "J."

J is 18 years old, and a very young 18 at that. She's all make-up and cell phones and IPods and bright, cute clothes with many different pairs of shoes and at least three different pairs of very mod glasses. She's tall and very slender, with long dark hair and eyes. Not my type, but not unattractive.

When J first arrived in class, she took the seat right next to me. We sit at long tables, arranged in a "U", so someone who is right next to you is ... well, right next to you. The way the class is structured, there are multiple times that you are required to do exercises with others in the class, usually in pairs. Since there was no one on the other side of J, that meant that she and I had to do assignments together all the time.

Those who know me will confirm (I hope) that I tend to be pretty good in situations like this -- friendly, helpful, courteous, deferential as necessary -- and also that I enjoy situations like this, having to work with someone being a pleasant and unobtrusive way to get to know someone. But working with J was a little like going to the dentist. She is bright enough, and her French is excellent, but for whatever reason we just didn't seem to work very well as a team. When we'd have to do something, such as writing a one- or two-paragraph story or letter, we would never talk enough to be able to agree on the content.  And we pretty much had nothing in common to talk about, since she didn't seem to give two hoots and a damn about politics or current affairs or anything else I cared about, and I didn't have much to say about teen fashion.  Finally, as people tend to do over time, we sort of came to an agreement (never really explicitly stated) that when we were paired together to do assignments, we'd simply divvy up the assignment, each do our respective parts, and then check the work of the other. A workable arrangement, if not exactly a cordial one.

As the first week went on, I began to think that J simply didn't like me, for whatever reason (my nationality, my clothes, my handwriting, my age). When she would see me outside the class (in the cafeteria for example), she would usually simply ignore me altogether; she would only really acknowledge me if she was in a situation where it was absolutely necessary. When she was forced to acknowledge me (whether inside the class or outside), things were even more odd. Sometimes she would be very, very short and curt, not unfriendly, exactly, but not warm either. At other times she would look me directly in the eye, and her face would light up in a warm, genuine smile for just for a moment, before shutting down again. As the week went on, the same thing would happen we were doing assignments -- at rare times in the mornings she would be charming and talkative and sweet, then in the afternoon she would be aloof and cold and prickly. Odd, too, was the fact that she seemed to sit conspicuously close to me, so that her books and materials would spill over into my space, creating a kind of joint work area.  So gradually I changed my opinion. It could be that she didn't like me, but it could also be that she was just extremely shy, or just plain odd. (As evidence of the latter, from time to time she would simply put her head down on the table and ignore what was going on in class, something that may pass muster in a large lecture hall but is quite noticeable in a class with only 8 people.)

She also did other odd things. She would take the handouts passed out by the teacher and, during class, meticulously trim them with a pair of scissors, fold them into the shape of a small square accordion, label them with a subject, and then tape them into her notebook. Other times she'd decide that it was time to touch-up her makeup, so she'd pull out a mirror and various and sundry cosmetic items and proceed to carefully, obliviously apply them (mascara seemed to be a favorite). As would be the case with her putting her head down on the desk, this action would usual cause the teacher to look over at her, look at me, and roll her eyes.

In any event, towards the end of the week I came to the conclusion that I'd rather work with someone else, rather than have to try to deal with J's odd, inconstant personality. But an unexpected thing had happened: Even though I didn't really enjoy sitting next to her or working with her, and even though I didn't really like her, I felt an odd sort of connection with her, a strange kind of loyalty to her even. The only way to get another partner was to sit somewhere else (since each day J would arrive, often late, and dutifully sit down right next to me, more or less happily), and I didn't want to hurt her feelings by obviously sitting somewhere else, so I decided to wait until the next Monday, because the composition of the class changes a bit week-to-week, so I wouldn't be taking someone else's spot.

On Monday, I arrived early and staked out a new spot, directly across from my old spot, and waited. J actually arrived on time this day, and walked over to her usual spot, and put down her things. I thought to myself, 'That was easy and painless, and it probably matters not one bit to her that I moved.' But just as that thought was passing from my head, J stood up, picked up her belongings, walked across the room in front of everyone over to my side of the class, and sat down in the seat directly next to me. I was so surprised and discombobulated that I didn't know what to make of this. Had I been able to retrieve the correct words in French at 9 a.m. that morning, I would have been tempted to say to her, "You don't like me. You don't like working with me. Why are you following me around the room?" But my politeness and my poor French restrained me, and instead I just turned to her and said "Bonjour."

Now I was faced with something really strange. What was going on? I found absolutely incredible the idea that she was fond of me, or that she liked working with me, or that she liked me at all. So I had to conjure up other possible explanations. The other person now on the other side of the room, who would have been J's partner, was pretty odd, too; maybe J saw me as the least undesirable choice she had. Maybe it was some kind of weird hemispheric solidarity thing, she and I being the only ones in the class from the Western Hemisphere. Maybe she was, after all, incredibly shy, and preferred continuing to work with someone she already knew a little (although truly, to describe our interactions as resulting in anything approaching a relationship would be a stretch). Maybe it was just plain inertia. Or who knows, maybe she is fond of me, after all. She is a little odd; maybe older unattractive married American guys appeal to her, and she is so smitten that she just doesn't know how to express it properly.

While trying to derive a rational explanation for the fact that she was sitting next to me in spite of my efforts, something else very happened. That odd feeling of loyalty I had felt the week before grew. I still didn't really want to her to be sitting next to me, but a part of me started to feel strangely protective of her. She had, after all, rather publicly manifested her desire to sit next to me, which doesn't happen every day, so even if she's 18 and all make-up and cell phones and IPods and bright, cute clothes with many different pairs of shoes and at least three different pairs of very mod glasses, and even if she does nap and put on makeup during class, maybe ... well, maybe I owe her a little more courtesy and consideration. Then, too, there was a part of me that felt a bizarre kind of affection for her; she's an odd and difficult and sometimes unpleasant partner, but, hey, she's my partner.

But those affirmative thoughts lasted only to the first joint exercise.  Then, once again, I found myself thinking that another partner would be more interesting, more useful, more pleasant, and more fun.  And I realized that at this point, unless I wanted to be really, pointedly impolite, I was completely trapped:  If I changed my seat in the class again, it would be painfully obvious to her and everyone else that I was trying to avoid her.  I hated the idea of having to do that.

The next day, J wasn't there.  So I was able to work with someone else, a smart, pleasant, personable young woman from Germany, with whom I enjoyed working immensely.  She enjoyed talking about politics!  We could write short joint letters without angst!  A real improvement, which made the class much more enjoyable and productive.  But the next day, J came up with yet another, unexpected twist: When she arrived in class, she did not sit next to me.  Instead, she went and sat next to a new friend, the other 18-year-old in the room, the woman from Albania.  I guess the bond of being the same age ultimately trumps the bond of residing in the same hemisphere.

Human nature being what it is, of course, I felt a combination of happiness ... and pique.  Hey, J, I'm not good enough for you now?  Not really, of course, but in a way, I am going to miss sitting next to J.  Even with all of her oddness, or perhaps precisely because of all her oddness, I ended up feeling a little bit fond of her.  She is, after all, just 18.  I should probably cut her a bit more slack.