There’s a lycée -- a high school -- just down the street from the apartment, and most mornings I can hear the students gathering outside in the street. They stand around in little groups, just like American teenagers, but the collective effect in this little street is to create an enormous sea of kids. Their voices echo the sounds of French on the stone and brick walls of the rue Suger and fill the morning air with talk and laughter.
Living so close to two groups of students, it almost feels like I’m still on campus much of the time. And there really aren’t that many differences between the French and American students I see so often. They gather to share each other’s company and to learn about life and themselves.
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