The first morning in Paris began before the city was fully awake. I sat in the small apartment the school had arranged for me, drinking tea that tasted different from the blends I had grown used to at home. The air smelled faintly of bread from the bakery on the corner. I had laid out my notes the night before, but now that the hour had come, they felt both too much and not enough.

When I arrived at the school, the building felt as imposing as I remembered. High ceilings, tall windows, and ...