My class picture from the time we lived there shows students who are from distinctly German backgrounds and others from distinctly French heritage. One young man looks like he might be Moroccan, but I’m not sure. If you can’t figure out where I am in the picture, I’ll take that as a compliment. Look for me with long blonde hair and blunt bangs, so different from the other children. I am a little taller than the other students. Perhaps I was a year older than my classmates? I don’t know. But, ironically, my teacher placed me right in the middle of the class. Find me now? The memories of being the only American in a French-speaking classroom left an indelible impression on me.