Mrs. Gina Travalini-Rubini for Educator of The Year | Teen Ink

Mrs. Gina Travalini-Rubini for Educator of The Year

March 28, 2019
By A_True_Ravenclaw SILVER, Wilmington, Delaware
A_True_Ravenclaw SILVER, Wilmington, Delaware
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"There's a fine line between not listening and not caring, I like to think I walk that line everyday of my life."
-Leonard Church/Epsilon


Gina Travalini-Rubini

John Dickinson High School

French Teacher

Wilmington, DE

 


Mrs.Gina Travalini: French Teacher


I would like to start by saying this: you will never find a teacher more kooky or fun in High School than Mrs.Trav. Now some may think that’s a bad thing, I say, stop hating. I'm not gonna lie, she’s one of my favorite teachers, and anyone who has or had her class before will likely concur.

I took French I in 10th grade and I hated it. It was hard, and I learned almost nothing. Then I moved to Delaware. I was told that I needed two years of the same language to graduate on time.

¨Welp, there goes Spanish class,¨ I remember thinking to myself.

Then I stepped into Mrs. Trav’s class for the first time, and she was… weird. She was doing this strange dance and singing “Gangnam Style” in French. After we all got into the room, she got a serious look on her face and screamed at us.

“Asseyez-vous!” She had a wild look in her eyes. “Asseyez-vous, asseyez-vous, asseyez- vooouuus!” Then she started laughing so hard she snorted. “Just sit down,” she said cackling at our startled faces.

After we were seated and she stopped giggling, she wrote her name on the whiteboard and turned to us. I thought she was about to yell again, but instead, she looked directly at me and said, “Je m’appelle Madame Trav, et toi?”

“I’m Isaiah. I don’t remember how to say that in French, though.” I had no interest in even trying to say it in French, either. She just kinda stared at me for a second and told me to repeat after her.

“Je m’appelle, Isaiah,” she said

“I don’t want to do all this; please just call on someone else,” I pleaded.

“Je m’appelle, Isaiah,” she repeated.

“Je m’appelle, Isaiah. Now can we move on, please?” I said, rolling my eyes.

She went on to ask the rest of the class their names, and I guess they learned from my mistake because they all answered in French. She handed us a piece of paper with a bunch of names on it; she told us to pick one and make sure we like it because it’d be our French name for the rest of the year. After we got ourselves new names, she jumped right in. She told us that we should already know some short phrases, accents, how to ask for names, ages, day of the week, etc. She also told us that by the end of the year, we should be able to hold a short enough conversation in French that we will be able to “ward off telemarketers and randoms who show up at our doors.” Finally, she told us that she will teach us phrases to help enhance our French; in other words, we’ll be able to ask “how do you say… in french” in french. By the end of just one class period, I felt as though I’d learned so much more than I ever could at my old school.

I thought I’d hate French class, mais maintenant j’adore le classe. Merci beaucoup Mme Trav pour votre travail acharné. Tu mérites tout récompenses. (Translation: I thought I’d hate French class, but now I love the class. Thank you Mrs. Trav for your hard work. You deserve all the awards.)



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