Tyler, RYE-Florida Outbound Student

Our Program

Home

About Us

News

FAQ's

Forms

Tyler Osteen

2010-11 Outbound to France

Hometown: Winter Springs, Florida

School: Winter Springs High School

Sponsor: Winter Springs Rotary Club, District 6980, Florida

Host: Quimper Rotary Club, District 1650, France

Bio

September 1 "I foresee that my life is changing. I foresee that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be. I foresee that I will no longer be the same."

October 1 " Consequentially, I thought I was going to be living a tale from the Series of Unfortunate Events. Shouts, and demands began to emerge like gunfire in a language that was not my own. I had no idea what to do, since I could not access the level of severity my mind had needed. Could there be pirates? "

November 25 "I have never seen so many public displays of dissatisfaction. Bombs going off, trashcans exploding, cars ablaze all signifying the unhappy townspeople."

Tyler's Bio

"Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they're supposed to help you discover who you are." - Bernice J. Reagon

Hellour (a mixture between "Bonjour", and "Hello")! My name is Tyler Osteen. I am 16 and currently attend Winter Springs High School in Winter Springs, Florida. Life at home is pretty simplistic. My mother, brother and a plethora of animals reside at my home. My hobbies include theater, and more theater. Sadly enough, I enjoy doing things that are far away from the outdoors. The only time I spend outdoors is either to let the dog out or check the mail. I hope this will change! A common misconception about Florida is that most people aren't tan. Myself included. Therefore, people like me need SPF 90 just to go outside so we don't end up looking like a mix between Mr. Krabs and Plankton on Spongebob!

More about moi...I am awful close to my family members. I have a twin brother. Yet he still tries to insist to random grocery store employees that we aren't even related. My mother works as a school counselor in a middle school. She has always stood beside any decision I chose to make and it's a great feeling to know people back me up. My grandparents mean a lot to me as well. They have attended every play I have ever been in. My day consists of a 7 hours of school (which is 7 hours too many!), and usually a couple hours of rehearsals for plays and such. I can't thank enough my drama teacher, Mrs. Steward, for being there for me 24/7!

When I found out I was going to France, I was ecstatic. It was unreal, mythical, unique, dangerous, heart-stopping, nerve-wracking, and downright stupéfiant (amazing). My emotions were about as bipolar as the weather here...and that says a lot. Therefore the words, "You've been accepted as an exchange student to France..." almost made me pass-out. I never once thought that France would be a place I could call home for 10 months. I am excited to spend these upcoming months in a foreign place. To be able to experience something new and fresh. And to live my life free, and worldly.

I would like to thank everyone in troupe 5777, and Leland Henry (who will be going to France as well!) for their support. I would also like to thank my cousin Beth, and aunt Amy for their consistent support as well. I am very excited to ride out this roller coaster and can't wait to start a new chapter of my life!

"Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open." -Albus Dumbledore

September 1

If you think someone can just tell you what it'll be like living in a foreign country, you're wrong.
If you think someone can just describe how you'll feel living in a foreign country, you're wrong.

The second a person realizes that there is no turning back, that this completes the journey many have been waiting their whole lives for, is a feeling of constant exhilaration. The fear, the angst, the battle that one must face just to carry their life on wheels throughout the last airport rings an undertaking of many endeavors to come.

I foresee that my life is changing. I foresee that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be. I foresee that I will no longer be the same.

The arrival at the airport of Brest was an arrival I had waited 12 hours for. Due to a flight missed, I became quite acquainted with the Charles De Gaulle airport. Upon my grand entrance at 10:30pm my host dad (Michael) came to me and said "You are Tyler?" and I said the classic "Oui". And he helped carry my luggage to the car. A long the way I met his wife (Muriel) and I absolutely adore them. The first thing they asked me was "Are you hungry, thirsty?". And by the time I arrived, I was a tad parched and a beverage was much needed. In result, they took me to a pub where I had an "un coca". Finally we made it to my home away from home. This was a four story house, and quite nice. I immediately took a shower in the fancy shower, and slept in my fancy room on my fancy bed. My host parents said "Sleep as long as you can." Therefore I used this to my advantage and slept as long as I could.

French meals are huge here. I hadn't realized that each meal was equivalent to a buffet. Nonetheless I thoroughly enjoy it. Breakfast consists of fresh bread, butter, jam, cereal, orange juice, muffin, coffee and milk. For most dinners (and lunches) foods like sausage are served. However they told me that we were going to have a "Bar-b-q" and my immediate though was "Sunny's" (Restaurant in the States) but it was nothing like the ribs & pork I thought it would be. Hooray! I enjoy most all French customs and become quite found of "biscous" which is the kissing on the check thing. It only becomes difficult when you run into a group of 15 girls. It takes nearly 10 minutes! The city which I reside in is wonderfully designed. It has the old city feel with Gothic cathédrales as well as new-age shops & cafes. There are about 10 Cafe's throughout the town and hundreds of shops to buy clothes. Every Saturday there is a market (similar to a Flea Market) where fresh fish is sold as well as everything under the sun. I am so thankful for my host sister Sarah who showed me around everywhere and helped me beyond belief.

My wonderful host sister wrote this
on my wall.

Language. My original thought was that it wouldn't be this difficult. That I would be able to pick up on the language in a snap since I am a little familiar with it. However this assumption was false. It is extremely difficult for me to understand nearly anything. Luckily my host family speaks a little English and can help translate things that I am foreign to. I practice French here with my host family (and friends) every day, every hour so it seems. My host mom loves sitting down me with and having me read & comprehend books meant for 6 year old French children. I must say, whoever wrote these books and claimed they are for 6 year olds should be fined! It must be at least on an 11th grade reading level! Nonetheless my family absolutely loves to have me pronounce words with "R's". I am sad to leave them today. I am off to my actual first host family. They were in Paris shipping off their daughter on an exchange to New York (by Rotary or course).

Here are some interesting facts:

-In public places, women & men use the same bathroom area. There isn't a "women's" and "men's" bathroom here

-There are 3,000 students in the public school in my area...but in my private school there are roughly 400 students.

-Dogs fill the town. Some dogs are roughly the size of a mountain lion.

-Air conditioning is non-existent. But not needed. Houses are equip with heaters in every room though.

-French beaches do in-fact have sand and no...not everyone is nude. Just a good handful. However, babies (4 and under) walk and swim around naked. Quite a shocker.

-The supermarket connects to the big "mall". In order to buy anything frozen you must go to a separate store of all freezers. Buying frozen items is not common here.

School starts soon and I am a little nervous as I do not understand hardly anything. I will just say "Je ne comprehend pas" (I don't understand). A phrase I am accustomed to. I feel bad for everyone I'm with because of my constant "Comment dit ton...en francais" (How so you say...in French) and " Qu'est qu c'est"(What is that). Luckily they never cease to amaze me by not getting too annoyed. I can say without doubt that I am loving nearly every minute. The most difficult part is adjusting to the unfamiliarity in everything. But that is part of the process that I must get used to. I try to start everyday thinking it will be as awkward as possible, therefore nothing surprises me.

This is life in France. And I am living it.

October 1

I sit here writing this journal in hopes to canvas my life to those interested. To share the good, the bad, my wins, and my defeats. Losing is inevitable, just as failure is. The only achievable circumstance is the art of trying. And I have sluggishly learned that flaws, in fact, are not a sin at all. More so a saint. The times of which I considered not trying an option, were the times I had already lost by default. Luckily living in a new country, new world, and by all means, a new life has granted me the opportunity to bounce back in record speed.

The following story I am going to share with you is no longer in my present, but still reflects an active portrayal of my ever-changing life. So please bear with.

Three weeks ago from Sunday, my host family and I ventured on their marvelous yacht to the quaint islands deep in the sea of France. I have never been on a yacht, nor have I ever been on a yacht sailing to the isles of Glenon. Two things of which would be embedded into my memory. During the beginning of the sail, I never once had thought things could possibly go wrong. Negative. All of the sudden the atmosphere shifted as quickly as light can illuminate and deteriorate at the flick of a switch. Consequentially, I thought I was going to be living a tale from the Series of Unfortunate Events. Shouts, and demands began to emerge like gunfire in a language that was not my own. I had no idea what to do, since I could not access the level of severity my mind had needed. Could there be pirates? Perhaps a reenactment of Jaws? Or maybe we pulled a Titanic. All of which could have possibly happened. I had even considered jumping ship. I had hoped that a dolphin would have rescued me, or that I would have stumbled across a mermaid willing to help the needy. Unfortunately, I never got to find out if a dolphin would save me, or Ursula for that matter. It turns out that my host parents were just trying to raise the sail at exactly the same time, precisely the same moment as all the other surrounding boats. The sail was hoisted, and no lives were lost.

The American exchange students in Bretagne!

School. A 6-letter word for which I am partial to. As many other Rotary students have written in the past years, and I assume so this year, is that school-life is the same no matter where one resides. This assumption has proven itself mostly accurate. School commences at 8am and ends at 5pm with a 90 minute lunch break. Quite different from any American school I have ever encountered. Kids here are slightly more keen to the whole learning idea. Each student has their own pencil bag, with their pencils, scissors, glue, white-out, fancy pens, pocket-protectors, and a collection of colorful erasers. Again, another difference. In America, teachers are lucky if students would just bring a half-chewed pencil, yet alone a store of school-supplies. Classes here differ from the previous day, leaving me completely lost like usual. However, I have made the best group of friends an exchange student could make. They guide me, laugh with me, laugh at me, and locate me from random streets on my way to "step" (gym) class. They love having me pronounce words, just as I do with them. In between classes, most students scramble to the "foyez". A room with a large, flat-screen T.V., pool tables, Foosball, and a multitude of chairs and tables. American music-videos stream in the foyez 24/7. This results in the constant "What does the Lady GaGa music video mean?". Therefore I respond "I have no clue! Nor do I think even she herself knows." It is amusing that kids will know every word to every popular American song but will have no idea what it means. English is taught nearly everyday to the students, but they find it very difficult to grasp. For homework one day, my teacher made all the students come up with 10 questions to ask me for the next day. I received questions from "Do you like Obama?", to "Do you have your own car"? The last question is always a winner. Saying I have a driver's license, and a car is equivalent to saying I met Justin Bieber. A win I suppose. I like school. I feel like I genuinely belong there. All 300 students at my private school know I'm American, just as the teachers do. It occupies my mind, and grants me the ability to expand myself as a whole. Although I only comprehend 2% of each class, it is the atmosphere that matters.

Language. My arch enemy. I will not pretend to say that the French language rolls off my tongue because I would only be attempting to fool myself. The language barrier is an exhausting war that has me well-equipped each day with the weapons I need to survive. However, each day I add a new weapon or item to my war pack. I learn each day. Whether I am ready for it, or not. I learn new words, and phrases in the most uncommon of places. Every new phrase, or complication or words gets exhibited in my little notebook called a "carnier". And when I return home from school, my host mom sits down with me and translates the army of French words I had learned that day. I am so thankful for my willing-to-help family as they guide me through places of which I am blind to. I have gained so much confidence here in regards to speaking French, unless the words contains the deadly "R"s. As I sit here writing this, I am constantly transcribing each word in French. Although I have not had a French dream yet, I long for it. Just like I long to win this war.

50 degrees air...80 degrees water....Me & my friends quickly jumping in

However living abroad has taught me that each environment has its own problems. There is no perfect world. I have seen professors go on strike because their profession was no longer providing them with the funds to survive. I have seen young women beaten by they boyfriends because they chose to speak out. And I have seen a young girl fighting with everything she has to overcome cancer. These imperfections have widened my eyes to universal problems that need to be fixed. And I thank Rotary everyday for narrowing my ignorance on universal cries for help.

French life here cultivates an array of experiences. All of which tests oneself each day. I constantly find myself discovering who I am, without even attempting self-discovery. Those are the joys in life. To be in a world where I am not known. To be able to adapt to each circumstance correctly, or incorrectly. I am so grateful to be able to learn new elements of culture each day. Much of which I will adapt into my everyday life when I return.

November 25

All of my life I have strayed towards the comfort of a sidewalk. Within those dimensions I could do anything, be anything I wanted without the risk of detriment. And that was ok. I was ok. I could see the grass, greener than ever. See the imperfect cement, but could not act, for I was in the confines of my sidewalk. All because of me. Reflecting now, I was not ok. It was just an allusion to appear ordinary. This sidewalk was more persuasive than I had once thought. Everything is immensely different for things are changing, my life more importantly. I now walk in the street. Now frolic wherever, whenever I want because of me. Because of this experience have I made that transition. This world of the unordinary, this world of blissful everyday-confusion is now subsiding into the world of the ordinary. Which I must say is one of my finest feats. I implore the fact that walking to bakery’s after school is notably normal, and that hearing hundreds of unhappy citizens chant injustice is another ingredient of normality. These three have proven itself worthy as the most complex three months of my life. As soon as I made my debut in France two months ago I was eminently lost. I was the age of a two year old; unable to formulate coherent sentences, and unable to ride solo. Through the months of slow, tedious progression, I can now proudly say I am now 7 years old. This is remarkably a major difference. I can almost read books like Bambi, and The Lion King without the use of any sort of dictionary at all. I can almost function. Almost.

It was 6:30 p.m. Already quite dark. My host dad and I were on our way to the family cottage to eat with his entire family. My first thought wasn’t the most pleasant of thoughts. Being surrounded by more French people than I can count intimidates me and my headaches as well. However my host dad said that there would be kids my age. I enjoy teenagers; I enjoy the carefree vibe they exhale. Within that statement, a sigh of relief was expressed. We arrived at the cottage, dismounted from the car and within those 7 seconds, ten children ages 8-12 ran up to me quicker than I could comprehend. They held out a toy guy and said “Take the gun, and run.” This was one of the oddest phrases I have ever heard in my entire life. I couldn’t decide what to do. Do I take the toy gun from these children, or not? Do I run, or stay? Being a novice to the whole French way of life I decided it would be within my best interest (and safety) to equip this toy gun and run into the abyss. I found this to be a mistake. Note to self: never run into the darkness. At least I had this toy gun, I thought. Then I heard someone running and some shouts upon the lines of “Boom! Boom!”. Again, another situation I found myself lost in. Do I fall to the ground, or retaliate? I opted for option C. Stand there and look confused. Out of nowhere this 10 year-old boy wearing camouflage ran up to me and proceeded to drag me to “prison”. I guess I was now a hostage. As I sat inside “prison” I began to wonder if the death penalty was going to be an option. I hoped I would at least get a fair trial! I then was called out and frisked and my weapon was confiscated. Note to self: watch more James Bond movies. During my search, my “people” came running from the bushes and rescued me and took me back to our HQ where the game was explained. A little out of order if I do say so myself. It was more difficult than I had imagined understanding the rules of this complex game in French. But since I did not want to be a prisoner again, I caught on quick. I was relieved to know I even had “people” and a massive supply of toy guns. This was probably the most intense game of “capture-the-other-team-and-put-them-in-prison” I have ever played. Scratch that…the only game of that nature I have ever played.

Before I came to France my views towards the human race grew increasingly cynical as each day progressed. I was loosing hope that genuinely nice people existed, if at all. If only there could be some sign, someone to prove that the world in which we live in is not all corrupted. "Because after all mankind does have a little corrupted nature. We were not born wolves, we became wolves." (Candide) Tomorrow came, and I had originally expected to put on my hunting gear, for dancing with wolves is never easy. But instead I found a place where there are more sheep than wolves. In a land where I am from; make yourself a sheep, get eaten by the wolves. This proverb is far from true here. Words cannot describe how thankful I am to have such accepting friends. Their efforts to further my success almost overshadows that of my own. It is fulfilling to know that just because I am foreign, just because I don't speak the language perfectly that they treat me with the same respect as everyone else. This is the same with my host family, and nearly every French citizen. Their kind nature, and optimistic standards of life brighten the cloudy days. Not only have they been a tremendous help in my life, but also my support system back home have been more than extraordinary. I cannot thank my grandparents enough for their everyday support. It is exuberating to know that life long friends are being made.

Being a native speaker of English is much a fantasy for many, if not all. Therefore I answer quite a few of questions. The other day I was proposed an offer which I quickly accepted. An English teacher in my school asked if I would go to the local middle school and humor his students for an hour or so. Thus I accepted quickly. Beats a 4 hour French test. As soon as I stepped foot on the grounds of the middle school I became a public icon quicker than I had ever anticipated. Apparently the kids had been anticipating my arrival for quite some time and had prepared an assortment of questions to fire. I was a little nervous because they were to document my responses. I didn't want to mess up. After several minutes I quickly gathered from these middle school kids is that their views towards the USA revolved around Gossip Girl, Abercrombie & Fitch, hamburgers, and the Simpsons. It it always interesting to know how your home country is portrayed. An interesting experience.

Writing a recollection of my past experiences has become a never ending chore; one I have yet to start. I have seen so much, done so much that trying to document everything is like trying to count the strides it takes to run a mile.

Below are several unique memories:

-I went to Paris with my host family for 3 days. It was an amazing experience. Much different than New York, or any other city I have ever encountered. I ran into other fellow Rotary students on the streets of Paris. My host family is still astonished that although I have only been in this country for nearly 3 months, I still met friends on the streets of Paris.

-I went to a film festival for 3 days and 2 nights with my Cinema class in school. I saw roughly 50 short films. Ranging in every language imaginable.

-I had an intense Step "exam", For those of you who do not know what Step is, it is a sport. We all go into this room and mimic Paul Abdul's work out videos. It is a little difficult for me only because the music which we "step" too is in English. Since they don't understand it, they don't try to sing along. However doing that, plus stepping...has proven itself a difficult task. One of the funnest memories I will hold.

-Discovery. Being here has taught me that I enjoy a plethora of new things, and old things. B.F. (Before France) I was an undesirable student. I chose to opt out reading important literature or testing my limits. Here I have found that I absolutely love writing. And that I am re-reading all the books that I failed to read in the first place. I adore these new discoveries.

-Manifestations. This is a word (I am not sure if this corresponds to an English word, I assume so) to describe strikes thrown by students (or "blockus"). Apparently students wanted to change the retirement age just as much as the older people. Therefore students barricaded school entrances with trashcans oozing with fire to prevent anyone from entering. They also threw much accessible trashcans in the streets to prevent people from getting to and fro work. I have never seen so many public displays of dissatisfaction. Bombs going off, trashcans exploding, cars ablaze all signifying the unhappy townspeople. Needless to say, school was canceled. Unless you could manage to dodge the fire. Haven't mastered that one yet.

I wish I could say that this experience was an easy one. But you and I both know it simply isn't. There is no simple way to do things. Simple doesn't exist. The art is to accept that simplicity is another word to exclude from my daily reflections. To accept the fact that easy way-outs are in fairy tales. I consider this experience much so a fairy tale. Just another version. A story with hidden messages, context clues and an overabundant amount of allusions. The difficulty in the language, the difficulty in accessing pure comfort will all allude to a more comfortable experience further down the road. The most interesting thing I have found out about this fairy tale, is that is is completely self-written.