French Passion

The break room was empty except for a paper bag sitting on the edge of the conference table. It was on its side, stapled shut, likely enclosing a Styrofoam take-out container. I peeked at the receipt, Savas Brick Oven Pizza printed in red at the top. An order of coconut French toast for delivery to the 8^th floor of the Penn Medicine building.

While I talked with Celine (see last post), a slight young woman opened the break room door hesitantly. “Oh, honey, you’re fine,” Celine said, motioning for her to come in and sit down. She sat at the head of the table, opposite of Celine, right in front of the paper bag.

After finishing my conversation with Celine, I turned my attention to the woman who had been eating quietly, dark hair hanging over her phone as she scrolled. Five pieces of French toast, each roughly the size of my hand, smooshed together in the Styrofoam box. Shreds of toasted coconut clung to the golden, sugar-dusted slices.

“It’s pretty good,” Bella said, digging into the center of a piece with her plastic fork, not completely thrilled. “When I had this before my boyfriend ordered it with extra bananas and strawberries,” she said, “but I didn’t know that.” She looked down sadly at a bit of green in the corner of the box. “It had one strawberry, but that’s not really enough for me.”

Her eyebrows crinkled with a fresh wave of disappointment; she had also forgotten to order the Philly Sauce. “You know toaster strudel? It’s like that white icing stuff,” she said wistfully. The complementary packets of butter and syrup lay cast aside.

Bella chose French toast for lunch to satisfy a craving (and to make up for skipping breakfast). “This is not typical,” she said, waving her splayed hand over the take-out box.  She usually brings lunch from home – her mom’s Vietnamese cooking. Yesterday she had rice and salmon -“If it’s Vietnamese, it will have rice,” she said. Her mom makes a dish with rice, egg, seasoned tofu and some squash-like green vegetable she couldn’t remember the name of.  It’s one of her favorites, though Bella hasn’t picked up on a lot of her mom’s cooking techniques. “I know she caramelizes sugar a lot to make the sauces…” she said, thinking hard, “She’s a really bad teacher.”

Bella’s fresh out of college; she graduated from East Sraudsburg University last spring with a BA in French and a BS in Biology. “I already miss it,” she said, chin tilting down, “I want to go back.” She took the front desk job at Penn Fertility Care last August to try to get more exposure to her field of interest. “I’ve always wanted to go into the medical field, but it’s so broad,” she said. She checked out a few specialties in college, shadowing a neurologist for 200 hours one summer. The experience didn’t quite meet her expectations. “The office was in an outpatient, suburban setting, so we didn’t really do a lot of exciting stuff.”

She likes working in the clinic, though realizing the insane hours doctors work has made her iffy about pursuing a career in the medical field. She could see herself back at school for a Masters in French, and maybe teaching in France.

“I like a lot of things,” she said, slight stress evident in her voice. “I’m a very curious person, but I haven’t found something I’m passionate about.”

She told me a bit about her experience studying in France and the teaching assistant programs she’s applying for. She loved the small town she lived in (though Paris was disappointing); she might get an opportunity to teach through TAPIF (Teaching Assistant Programs in France) or a Fulbright scholarship; she’d move to France!

A few minutes later, staring into her last two giant, room-temp slices, she came to some kind of conclusion. “I know one thing: I’m passionate about French.”