I’ve never been a morn­ing per­son. Even though my high school days mem­o­ries are slowly start­ing to fade, I still remem­ber my last year. We had to attend classes Mon­day through Sat­ur­day start­ing at 8:00 am, and every­day was a strug­gle to get up. I would go to bed as early as I could but will always find myself exhausted by Wednes­day. I learned we weren’t born equal : half of my class­mate were up at 6:00 in the morn­ing to do their hair and the rest of us would be hap­pily going to bed with our clothes on to sleep in a few more minutes.

French aren’t morn­ing peo­ple. Except maybe for Parisians who often have to com­mute for hours, most peo­ple like to start later and fin­ish around 7:00 pm. Back when I was in high school, the only peo­ple walk­ing like zom­bies in the streets so early were us, the stu­dents, and a few par­ents tag­ging along for the younger. If the first morn­ing class was can­celed for what­ever rea­son, we had nowhere to go : even the MacDonald’s nearby only opened at 9:00. Most shops opened at 10:00, and cof­fee shops were just busy man­ag­ing their daily deliveries.

When I moved to Canada, I started to enjoy morn­ings. Peo­ple in Ottawa often go to work around 8:00, or even 7:30, in order to fin­ish at 4:00. Tim Hor­tons drive-through are busy, traf­fic is at its max­i­mum and morn­ing are bright. My first class of the day is usu­ally at 9:00. I’m okay with it. I’m still not an early bird, but I can man­age. A cig­a­rette in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other. And don’t com­pli­cate my life too much. Also, don’t speak too loud. And don’t ask me to be active or smart. Basi­cally, don’t ask me to be bright.

Last Sun­day, I was called to teach a spe­cial stu­dent from 9:00 to 3:00 pm. I didn’t mind cause the expe­ri­ence was going to be inter­est­ing. So on Fri­day, the recep­tion­ist gave me her key (since I was going to be alone in the school) and showed me how the alarm worked. And I went back home with a lit­tle scrib­bled note with the alarm code and the instructions.

Sun­day morn­ing, 8:30. It’s rain­ing and I’m tired. I need a cig­a­rette but I decide to open the school first, in case my stu­dent arrives early. I turned the key in the key­hole and tape in the code on the alarm’s con­trol panel right behind the door. I then rush to the kitchen down the hall­way to put my lunch in the fridge, long­ing for my morn­ing smoke.

Bip… Bip… Bip… BIP… BIP… BIP… BIIIIIP…

Fuck. The alarm.

I run back to the entrance door and key the code one more time. Then, by fear of hav­ing set the alarm on again, I exit and stand on the front porch.

Think. Con­cen­trate. I keyed the right code. What the hell did I do wrong ?

I wait there for a few min­utes and decide to start the whole process again. I key the code and wait in the lobby. I hear… I hear… a fuck­ing beep­ing sound ! I am so angry I could cry.

I key the code furi­ously a few times and the bip­ing stops. Silence.

And my stu­dent steps in.

I swear I couldn’t con­cen­trate dur­ing the first part of the les­son for fear of the police arriv­ing. How embar­rass­ing could that be, being caught work­ing over­time and being alarm-challenged ???

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2. Things I Learned In 2007
3. Morn­ings
4. 7 Cana­dian Work Cul­ture Facts You May Not Know
5. Snow Fall !