On a trip to France, most people might expect to go visit interesting sites- perhaps the great Cathedral of Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower.

We are not doing any of that sort of thing with my mom. In fact, today she got to help me clean my house.(Thanks, Mom! Love you!!!!)

But we don't only clean house.
Mais non!
We also....go pick up Mallory when she gets out of school early:

(FYI: My car is the one with the blue "Nebraskans for Peace" bumper sticker.)

Here's Mallory getting her papers inspected as she leaves school:

Back home, Finally!

This is Bob. My mom thinks Bob is kind of cute and sweet.

Bob is actually strange and kind of deformed.
She was like this when we found her and even the vet can't explain how a stray cat could be so hugely obese. She's like a watermelon with four toothpicks for legs. But she's so pathetic that you have to love her....

My mom has been enjoying the lovely fruits and vegetables here in France...

(She took this photo at the supermarket. Kind of pretty!)

She has also sat through two of Alexa's dance classes. She went to ballet on Monday and today was modern dance. As she watched, she had to hold the teacher's dog, Coppelia. Coppelia is quite spoiled and barks at you if not petted and endlessly cosseted.

If my dad shows these photos to their dog back home, my mom could be in big trouble. Bridget seems like the jealous type....

A few posts back, I mentioned that my twins (along with their whole class, of course) were going to be on French television.
Well, the show was finally aired today on the national one o'clock news on TF1 (the most popular channel, if you recall)

JP and I were at home and saw it on our big screen TV. When it finally got to the classroom scene, it was all I could do not to get all Mrs. Bennet and shriek "I was sure she could not be so beautiful for nothing!".
I only just restrained myself, but when you watch the video for yourself, you will notice that the camera person seemed to like Alexa's looks, as did the editor of the piece. She gets a close-up early on in the school scene and then again at the very end of the program.

Besides seeing both of my adorable younger daughters, you'll also get a look at the region where I live. It's even prettier than it looks in the show.

The segment (which you can see here. After the advertisement is over , click the "chapitres" button if you don't want to watch the whole 30 minute program. Go to chapters 11-19. Then click on the third picture from the end. it's a little photo of the girls' class. Can't miss it. ) is part of a series that TF1 is doing this week about the 150th anniversary of the annexation of the Savoy into France.

Today's installment was about the regional dialect of the area. And as my girls are in a Savoyard class in school, they got to be on the news.

I spent a busy three-day weekend (Pentecost Monday, anyone?) that drove all thoughts and possibilities of blogging out of my mind.
More on the weekend later. Before I go on to new and exciting activities, I have to finish telling you about Italy...not that there's lots to tell.
But I do have pictures!

No festival would be complete without a dorky mascot and this thing was nothing if not complete. So, the minute we got off the bus, we were all herded along to join the giant fuzzy...whatever it was and get a group photo taken. I cleverly avoided this by whipping out my own camera and playing Ofiicial Group Photographer and Archivist.

If you look, you can see Mal in a bright blue sweater and Alex nearby with a long pink scarf.

We spent most of the morning tramping around the village, going from workshop to workshop. I was a tad grumpy, as I'd gotten assigned a group of 6th graders from another school, rather than the group my twins and their pals were in. And this group of 17 kids already had two adults with them and didn't even need me..grumble, bitch, complain, etc... So, I couldn't take any pictures of my girls.

Instead, I took a few of the landscape, which was a nice one. In this region of Italy, the roofs are all covered in slate. Very pretty!

The little metal hooks on the roof are to keep the snow from falling off in big chunks and crushing people....

As I said in my previous post, there were about a thousand kids there. And all of us ate together in an enormous tent. The din was deafening, but the food was quite nice. Only the italians would serve 1000 kids a starter of al dente pasta with fresh tomato sauce, followed by a veal stew (sort of like the French blanquette de veau). The dessert was an ice cream bar -a "gelato della panna" that was SO good!
And drinks? There was local apple juice for the kids and bottles of wine for the adults. So civilized these Europeans.
Now that I think about it, I suppose I AM a bit European...but I'm not European enough to be comfortable even drinking a smidge of alcohol at mid-day on a school trip. I stuck to water. Guess my Nebraska roots were showing. ... which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Here's a picture that Mallory took. She used her DSi camera mode and took about 300 pictures, many of them blurry, bless her heart. But the ones that were in focus were quite good!

After our idyll in the Heidi-esque mountain village, we piled back into the bus and descended into the valley to go explore the ancient town of Aoste.
Well, "explore" is a big word...we only had one hour of free time!

It's a pretty interesting place- the area has been settled since pre-historic times, of course, but it really got on the map when a Roman colony was established. It was called Augusta Praetoria Salassorum. T
This (pic below) was the eastern gate to the colony at the time. It's called the Porta Praetoria and was built in the 1st century BC. It used to be faced in marble, but that's long since gone and carried off for other projects...

Very cool!
Seeing all the Roman ruins (the town has tons. lol) almost made up for the suffering I endured. No, my iPod never did come unblocked during the trip. I had to endure the whole trip with no decent music or podcasts. Mallory lent me hers for a bit, sweet child. However, , while I don't mind Fall Out Boy and Green Day, it's not the stuff that's going to get me through six hours on a bus...

So, that's it for Italy. Tomorrow you get to hear about yet another Ren Faire.

I'll just add that progress is being made on our new room! As I write, JP and a pal are installing the radiator. The floor will go in after that's done.

Also- Alexa just phoned and asked to stay an hour later at school. It seems that a tv crew has come to do a story about Savoyard being taught in French schools and her class is being featured. It's supposed to air on TF1 in a week or so. (TF1 is a big deal! From Wikipedia : "TF1's average market share of 25-35% makes it the most popular domestic network. TF1 is the largest European television channel by its audience.")

So, that's all kind of exciting!

Italy: sunny, sophisticated, stylish.

While France may have a rep for being sophisticated and seductive, our neighbor to the south takes the cake (or rather 'torta'). Though I often see dowdy French folks sporting faded jogging pants in our local supermarket on the weekend , I think it might be forbidden by law for Italian people to go out the door looking less than impeccable.

At least, that's how it looked to me- based on a one-day whirlwind trip to the north of Italy on Tuesday.

You may be wondering how I ended up cruising around the Val d'Aoste in a giant doubledecker bus bursting at the seams with 76 junior high kids?

Well, I'll tell you, I wondered about that myself as I struggled to open the window and get some relief from the hormonal whiffiness of a herd of 12 and 13 year olds mostly unacquainted with deodorant.

I also wondered that as I turned on my iPod about half an hour into the three hour trip to get there and the screen promptly froze. I had nothing with me to read. And I had nothing to listen to but the chattering and the squealing.....

(Mallory does love her candid shots. I was giving some rowdy kids my "Look of Doom". Don't I look like a crabby old thing? )

Not that they weren't nice kids. And not that I wasn't happy to be asked to accompany the twins' sixth grade class (and a few other classes!) on their trip to a Franco-Provençal festival being held in the tiny alpine village of La Thuile.

Hey! I figured. A free trip to Italy! What's not to like?

Well, it turns out there were a few things not to like, like the fact that it took so long to get there. We left at 7am and drove for three hours. Then we had to be back on the road by six . So we had had only eight hours of visiting for over six hours of travel..

But mostly it was fine and a good time was had by all.

The majority of the day was taken up by the festival. My twins (and all the other kids on the bus) study Savoyard a few hours each week as one of their language options. So, after they've been to French class, English class and German class, they head to the classroom of Monsieur B. He's the math teacher, but has a not-so-secret identity as an accordeon-playing Savoyard activist.

Savoyard is a local dialect that is slowly dying out and not getting any support from the French state, in contrast to the more prestigious dialects of Brittany and Alsace. The Franco-Provençal family of languages (to which Savoyard belongs) is found in a pretty small area and the speakers tend to stick together. So, our school was of many in the region invited to this big three-day festival.

-I'm going to stop here for now. Blogger is bugging out and refusing to let me post any more photos. I'll try again later tonight and tell you the rest of the story....

You all HAVE to go have a look at Valentine's latest art project for school.

The assignment was to use photography or video in conjunction with one other art technique (painting, sculpture, whatever) to make a piece portraying a daily activity in a humorous way.

She ended up using a picture of an old Flemish domestic painting and having some fun with it. She changed it up and incorporated pics of our whole family.

I think she did an amazing job, but you should go see for yourselves.

BTW: It would be nice of you to leave her an encouraging comment, too. She likes that.

The news:
No progress on the house.
JP is back and keeping very, very busy.
The kids are in the middle of a two week school holiday.

The anecdote:
A few weeks before school got out, Mallory's book bag gave up the ghost. It was in such tatters that we just threw it out and she started carrying an old one that had belonged to her big sister. but after a few days, that one broke, too.
I took it to the local shoe repair guy and he said he could have it fixed up in a couple of days.

In the meantime, Mal needed a way to carry her books. And not just any daypack would do. The kids have loads of books each day that are easily 30 lbs or more. The only pack I could find that was big enough was crushed up at the back of the attic crawl space. It was nothing fancy- just the most basic model and the blue nylon was dusty and stained.

In fact, it looked like it hadn't been washed since my last fieldwork back in 1991. I hadn't ever gotten rid of it for sentimental reasons- it was the backpack I'd bought for my first real work as an archaeologist. I carried it in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks as a young government archaeologist. I took it down to southern Peru as a graduate student . Then it kept me company as I did boring, run-of-the-mill survey work for a private archaeological firm in Illinois.
It even came with me to Europe when I started to work on my (never finished) doctorate.
It's a sad-looking item with a proud history.

I wasn't sure what Mallory would make of it. In fact I fully expected her to turn up her nose.

I explained that it was my old archaeology kit, assured her that she'd only have to carry it for a few days and then told her I'd wash it up good as new.
She grabbed the bag with what looked distinctly like a sparkle of interest in her eyes. She didn't even want it washed. (I guess the stains lent it authenticity?) Her books went in with room to spare and she happily went off to school.

Three days later, I proudly held out the clean, repaired back pack that had belonged to Tya. It's rather pretty- a sort of beige with red scrolls and flowers on it- and I was sure that Mal would be so pleased to get it back and get rid of the ancient, ratty blue pack.

"I like the blue one," she said
"It' so old and stained..." I began doubtfully.
"But it makes my books lighter on my back....and lighter in my head, too. It always makes me think of you!"

So, she's kept the old field pack and the fancy flowered bag is at the back of the closet.
That's my girl!

In the "comments" section of my previous post, I was repeatedly congratulated for my restraint in not offering the erring English teacher a hearty punch in the face.

That would have been a very unlikely outcome. Even if he'd gone beyond telling me that "Americans sound dreadful" and ventured into "your momma wears army boots" territory, I wouldn't have offered him physical violence.
I'm from the "stern glare and sharp retort" school of martial arts.

And any stray temptation to resort to administering a good old American knuckle sandwich would certainly have been crushed by the possibility of getting six months in prison. That's the new penalty under French law for assaulting a teacher.
I know about this because our houseguest this weekend is a recently retired collége (junior high) teacher and he keeps up with the latest news. Apparently, France has crazy nutjob parents (or 'parents fous de noix de travail' which makes absolutely NO sense in French, btw), just like the USA and a few French teachers have been punched out in the playground. No wonder people are so freaked out about "Americanisation"...

We were about halfway through our little talk today when the twins’ English teacher suddenly pronounced «Americans sound dreadful!»

I burst out laughing, even though I knew he hadn’t meant to be funny. I had to. My choices at that point were: «laugh uproariously» or «slap him silly» and if I ended up in prison on assault charges, I wouldn’t be able to write in my blog, right?

It’s pretty amazing that I kept so cool. When I’d walked into the classroom, one of the first things I’d said was «I’m an American» and now he was telling me that I (and my girls!) sounded «dreadful»?

What on earth was the man thinking?


All I could do was laugh at him. And he looked totally surprised. Completely shocked.
I ventured a mild «Perhaps you sometimes find the accent a bit harsh to your ears?»


«No, I mean it sounds really dreadful.» he insisted.
It was really getting old.

The conversation had started out reasonably well. When I arrived, I’d immediately started speaking English, though he kept answering in French. but after a while, he finally switched to English. He spoke it reasonably well-not like a native speaker, but quite correctly- with a very British accent. I'd expected worse.

I introduced myself and explained that our family speaks English at home- I didn’t begin with any of my own concerns about the class. Instead, I asked how he thought the girls were doing. He complained that Mallory often ignores the lesson at hand and skips ahead in the textbook. He also said she didn’t talk much in class.

I pointed out that spending a week learning how to say «Hello. My name is Mallory» was probably pretty dull for a child who reads huge novels in English. I also mentioned that she probably didn’t feel a need to «practice» her English, as she already speaks it perfectly.

I asked about the accent issue and he said it wasn’t one.
«They‘re perfect . The girls sound just like the language tapes we use.»

It was a bit of a WTF moment for me. I began to wonder if the twins were using a British accent when they spoke at school. But I didn’t think so. Not really.


And then he came up with his «Americans sound dreadful» remark.

None of it added up. He didn’t seem like a horrible person. Astoundingly dim, perhaps, but not horrible. Why would he sit there and tell me to my face that I sound dreadful?
And why did he think the twins sounded fine?


First, I pointed out that, with 300 million people using it, an American accent is not only acceptable, it is by far the most common.
He answered ( for the third time!!) «But it’s dreadful!»
I’d really had enough.
«You’re sitting there and telling me that I sound dreadful?» I accompanied this with what my kids call my «Eyes of Doom». (If the "Eyes of Doom" came equipped with a deadly brain-melting ray, I SO would have used it on him.)


«No! of course not!» he looked quite shocked. «You speak perfectly normally, as do your daughters. Until now, I’d actually thought they were British…»


Normally? Normally?!

«An American accent IS normal. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! And don’t you hear mine? Can’t you tell the difference between the way you are speaking and the way I am?　The differences in pronunciation? Can‘t you hear it?»

No, he couldn’t.

Here’s the deal- besides being a dope, the guy apparently has NO ear for language. He literally couldn’t hear the difference between my slightly internationalized, but still recognizable Midwestern English from Nebraska and his own very British English. It hardly seems possible that a language teacher could be so clueless, but there you go.


As he was such a dope, there was no use in being subtle. I finally said «The reason I came here was to make sure you didn’t think that the twins had a «dreadful», incorrect accent and hold it against them. But as you can’t hear it, I guess it’s not an issue…»

We talked some more, but it seemed kind of hopeless. The whole exchange was so nonsensical.

The only good that came of it was that I was able to make it clear that the girls know more English than he does and that it’s not surprising that the lessons often can’t hold their interest. And now he knows that he’d better be on his toes, or I’ll come back for another nice chat.

And here’s a question for you: Is the average American accent really any worse-sounding than a Liverpool or Birmingham accent?

I don’t think so.

Not that it matters to me, as I am apparently now speaking the Queen’s English…

Here's what's going on in my life right now (in no particular order)

1. My cold/flu has gotten worse. The constant, wracking cough is quite the deal, let me tell you.

2. I now have 7 (count 'em: SEVEN) English students now and may even be getting an 8th one this month. I've had to add a second class on Wednesday mornings. Furthermore, the father of one of my students might be up for private lessons, as well. I haven't advertised or anything- it's just been word of mouth- and I'm astounded at how well it's going!

3. The meeting with the anti-AmE English teacher at the twins' school has been set! I'll be seeing him at 11:45 this coming Monday. It will be my unenviable task to point out to him that there are over 250 MILLION people living in the USA and that, contrary to his belief, they are not all speaking English wrong.
Good luck to me.

4. For the last few weeks I have been reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books to my girls at bedtime. They are 11 and 16 years old, but still like to cuddle up on my bed and be read to. It's the best time of the whole day... Tonight we're starting "By the Shores of Silver Lake". Great stuff, written in solid American English.

5. We have a houseguest arriving tomorrow for the weekend. C. is an old friend of JP's. He's from a little town in the Vosges mountains that is famous for linens- sheets, towels, tablecloths, dishcloths, etc. I guess he couldn't take the excitement anymore and decided to come for a nice rest ches nous. Our village is very soothing, containing no shops of any kind - it features a church, a tiny school and many, many, many cows.
He'll stay until Monday. C. is a nice guy and low-maintenence, which is good.

That's it for now. I really need to get some sleep and try to shake this cold. It's completely ruining my enjoyment of the gorgeous fall weather we've been having...

Ah- the myriad joys of sending perfectly bilingual kids to a public school in France. Here's just one of them:

Yesterday evening, I asked the twins how school had gone.

"You had English today, right?"

"Yeah. It was ok, I guess" Alexa aswered with a sigh.

My 'mom radar', though damaged by my recent ill-health, is still operational, so I asked her what the trouble was.

"He told me how to pronounce the word "drawing", she announced, rather disgusted.

The entire sentence was said with a solid, made-in-the-USA accent, except for the word "drawing", which she pronounced with a drawling "a" that made her sound like Queen Elizabeth being poked in the rear with a sharp stick.

And that was the last straw.

I asked her to get out her "carnet de liason" and wrote a note to the school- an urgent request for a meeting with the English teacher.

This incident is just the latest in a series. The teacher INSISTS on correcting my girls' vocabulary and accent, refusing to accept AmE (American English) as a legitimate form of the language.

It isn't just a matter of pronouncing a few vowels differently. While AmE and BrE are mutually intelligible, there are many differences in verb morphology, the use of tenses, vocabulary and a host of other areas.

Even the use of definite articles is a bit different. In BrE, for example, certain institutions take NO definite article.

So, for example, if one of the twins would inform the teacher that "My mom is mad and she's going to put you in the hospital, buddy", the French English teacher would correct her and explain that the right way to say that sentence is " My mum is angry and she is going to put you in hospital, mate".

In short, it seems that I need to go to the school and politely explain that about 250 million or so people live in the USA and speak English just fine, thanks.

Should be fun...

A rather brilliant blog-friend of mine recently wrote this:

If, as my Japanese Japanese-language instructor was fond of saying, "In English, the purpose of communication is to exchange information. In Japanese, the purpose of communication is to not hurt anyone's feelings." Then, in French, the purpose of communication is argumentation.

I don't know Japanese and I've never been to Japan, so I can't speak to the truth on that matter. But as someone who is up close and personal with the French language and French culture, all I can say is: It's SO true!

Of course, French isn't all about the argument.
Oh no.
It's also about hiding information.

English is (certain scientific papers and purposely abstruse novels aside) all about clarity, brevity and giving 'just the facts, ma'm'. It can be a playful language, but in general, it doesn't jerk you around.

French, in contrast, is excellent for talking endless circles around a point and never getting there. And I'm convinced that this is so because French people don't want you to know anything.
Seriously.
Kind of.

Over the years, with the full agreement of my very French husband, I have come to the conclusion that French culture is, at some deep level, an insiders' culture. The basic information that you need in order to get around, work and live is not easily available. Even if you peruse all the booklets, read all the road signs and just ask right out, point blank, you ( the sad outsider not lucky enough to be born and raised in France) will find it very, very hard to find out the basic things you must know to get by.

Whereas US culture often seems like it's aimed at a population that has no common sense (hence we find the plastic coffee cups that read Caution: Hot beverages are hot! and the packages of peanuts that say Warning: May contain nuts), French culture and the resulting societal infrastructure assume that if you don't already have certain information, you probably don't really need, deserve or have any right to it, anyway.
So, why should they make it easy for you?

Just driving on French roads is a trial for someone used to the well-marked highways in the USA. JP and I made lots of roadtrips in the States, back in the day before GPS and GoogleMaps, so I can attest to the fact that you can actually use roadsigns to find your way around the US.
In France, not so much. The indicators tend to be sporadic and disappear at crucial junctions. This is particularly true on the 'departement' roads, where one minute you're driving to Tours and the next you're at a roundabout that indicates four different towns, none of them Tours.
If you don't already know where you're going, you're never going to get there.
And, sadly, this is true in most other areas of French life.

This year, our daughters started at collège (see previous posts for details). The school sent reams of paper, chock- full of information. We were informed of the many classes there were, shown the floor plan of the school and told that the principal was hoping the children would have a good rentrée. We were NOT however, given any info about things like how to use the cafeteria or take the bus.

When JP went to the "information" evening at the school, they spent 2 hours reading outloud all the information off the papers they'd previously sent to the parents. Any word about buses or lunches or any other pressing matter not covered by the papers?

Nope.
The "information night", it turns out, was more of a social event than an actual tool for giving out useful facts. French people are nothing if not very social. They like that sort of thing. They'd much rather sit around chatting with each other in a classroom than sit all alone at home reading a silly old bit of paper.
And the details of school life? They know it all already. Nearly all of the parents went to the school when they were kids. It's obvious how the cafeteria works and the sports association and the bus service. Perfectly obvious. If you were born here.
If you weren't, your only dependable source for info will be other parents.
The trick is, of course, getting them to talk to you. It's a problem because French people deeply dislike talking to people they don't already know. In fact, most of them don't even like talking to people who aren't in their own family.

While the average US citizen can handle being addressed by a stranger in the street and, in fact, is usually pleased to be able to show how much they know about the neighborhood, local restaurants, buses, etc, the average French person is taken aback and, though he might possibly answer your question, no elaborations will be offered. You'll get the strict minimum.

Example:
Confused American: "Excuse me. Is this the stop for the bus to Annemasse?"
French person also standing at the bus stop: "Yes." *moves to stand as far away as possible*

In contrast:
Confused French person: "Excuse me. Is this the stop for the bus to Omaha?"
American person also waiting: "Why yes, it is. But you have to be careful. You want the number 32, not the number 23. That one also stops here, but it will take you to Red Cloud. I'm going to Omaha, though, so you just get on when I do, Ok? And you have correct change for the fare, right? You have to have correct change. Good. So, where are you from? Would you like a piece of gum?"

We see in this sample conversation (which I completely and totally made up, but which manages to convey the underlying structure of many, many exchanges I have seen or been in) that the French person is not sharing what he knows. In fact, the French person in the first exchange knows that the day is a public holiday and no buses are running at all. He is not waiting for a bus, but is actually waiting for his cousin to pick him up. But he wasn't asked for details and sure as heck isn't going to volunteer any to a complete stranger! Quelle horreur!

On the other hand, in the second scenario, the English-speaker offers lots of other relevant information ( as well as a confectionary treat!). She assumes that if you asked about the bus, that means you probably want to get on it and go somewhere. And she is pleased that she can help you with this is some small way.

With the French, everything is assumed, and nothing. They'll assume that you have plenty of friends and family and have no need of any friendship from them. They'll assume that you have all the information that you need for your life to function smoothly. Doing otherwise would be, for them, tantamount to assuming that you are an idiot- which isn't very nice, right?
So, they don't mean it in a bad way, really...
On the other hand they wouldn't dare assume that just because you ask about a bus, you might want to actually ride on it. Or just because your kids are enrolled in a school, they might need to eat lunch there. That would be so presumptuous!

Actually, I'd have to say that they mostly just plain don't like outsiders. And helping outsiders become insiders is not the French idea idea of fun.

Being a foreigner in France requires becoming a skilled player of Twenty Questions. You ask and ask and ask some more. You persist until you are pretty sure you have the subject narrowed down to its smallest elements. And even then, there's probably stuff nobody's going to tell you.

And don't think you're going to use the internet to help out. There's lots of vital stuff in France that has no web-presence. For example, my kids' schools (both big schools-one private and one public) don't even have websites.

There's too much stuff they just don't want you to know.

It was Sir Francis Bacon who wrote that "knowledge is power". (He was British, but don't think that the French don't believe this with every fiber of their being.) It's power and not something to be freely given to just anybody, especially if that anybody is not exactly from around here.

Growing up, I read the entire series of Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Little House" books approximately eleventy billion times. I'm talking major love, here.
Drawn from her real-life adventures, Wilder's mostly gentle descriptions of her 19th century farm life made me dream of being a pioneer girl (minus the diptheria and crop failures, of course).


Her books did not, however, make me dream of going to or being a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse. Her mother taught in one before getting married and Wilder herself went to a few different schools as her family moved around the country. At age 15 she earned a teaching certificate and taught for a few years. So Wilder knew the topic quite well...and what she had to say was not good. (I won't go into detail. Read the books, if you haven't yet.)

But when we put our twin daughters into the local school here in our little corner of France, I went in with an open mind. Optimistic, even. One room, one teacher, three grades and 17 students...it wouldn't be so bad. It might even be good? It's not the 19the century any more. It's not even the 20th century, right?

I ended up spending a lot of time helping at the school. About once a week, I ran the tiny village library so that the students could check out books there. I was always available to accompany the class on outings ( ski week, folk dancing, cross-country racing, etc..) And finally, I ended up teaching English there twice a week for about five months.

This gave me a chance to see how a small school in a tiny French village actually works. And this is an interesting question. The village school is a point of pride to many small communities in this country. Few villages, no matter how minuscule, seem to want to have their children put in vans and driven off to a bigger school, no matter how nearby and well-equipped that school may be. They all want their own school- and that means the old one-room schoolhouse format is still a going concern in France. That's not to say they do it very well, but these schools are still very common. And there is a huge uproar when local councils try to close them down due to lowered enrollments and/or lack of funds. (Here's a recent piece from Le Monde where a teacher reports about the horrible state of a village school in France. I'm not the only one saying this stuff.)

There was sure an uproar around here last spring when the council announced that the La Corbiere school would need to be closed down. That's the school near our house- the one that housed a single class of first and second graders (CP + CE1). The one that I helped out at was the main school in the mayor's office- a single room for the 17 third, fourth and fifth graders (CE2, CM1 + CM2). The threat of the closure of the Corbiere school had the locals all up in arms. There were meetings and protests and all kinds of fuss.

Me? I just stayed out of it. I had no desire to start an argument and become a pariah in this small village of just over 500 people. I have enough trouble fitting in, thanks very much. Despite all my friendly ways and volunteer work at the school, I figured that my village cred could all be undone in an instant if I voiced my true opinion of the beloved one-room village school.
But I'm feeling a tiny bit brave today (and somewhat annoyed- you'll see why a bit further down) so I'm going to share my concerns with you, my faithful blog-friends.

Here's the deal: I lived for nine years in West Africa.

I visited many schools, I went to elementary schools to give presentations and I even taught sunday school for many of those years. Burkinabé schools typically have more than 80 students in one small, hot, dark classroom. Over 100 is not uncommon. But when an adult walks into the classroom, be it the teacher or a guest, you can hear a pin drop. A small pin covered in bubble wrap. Seriously. The kids are quiet and they listen when an adult speaks.
French kids in France?
Not so much.
And I suspect that French kids are no worse than the US ones, Canadians, or kids anywhere else in the developed world. In general, they don't have any kind of automatic respect for the authority of adults- even teachers. Most of them know that if there is any conflict or problem in the classroom, their parents will support them against the teacher. Also, they expect to be entertained all the time, even in a classroom environment. The days where the teacher could expect the students to sit for an hour and work on memorising the major exports of every nation in South America are long over.

A one-room school can work well if the children are polite, respectful, obedient and hard-working. (These kids do still exist, as I mentioned previously, mostly in Africa, as far as I can tell.)
If , however, the students are accustomed to interrupting others, doings as they please and can't concentrate for more than five minutes at a time, the formula is not a successful one. The classrooms are noisy, nobody can work effectively and the overwhelmed teacher ends up spending far to much time on discipline.

I was lucky to be teaching English- the students found it interesting and saw the point of learning it. And I was able to find and/or invent lots of games and creative ways of teaching. We'd sing and dance, I'd bring in props, we'd go outdoors, I'd bring in guests, etc.

But the regular teacher, struggling to teach all the usual subjects to all the different levels of student? Good luck making that constantly fun and fascinating. A lot of learning is just work, and that's all there is to it.

All this in mind, I didn't see the closing of the Corbiere school as a bad thing. On the contrary, I thought that putting the students in the bigger school in a larger town about 4km away would be a good thing. They'd be in dedicated, single-grade classrooms, have access to a gym, more computers, better equipment...and probably a less stressed teacher.

But this was NOT a thing to say to someone in our own little school-proud village. So I kept my mouth shut and ignored the fuss. My kids were leaving the village system anyway, getting ready to go to the junior high (collège) in town.

So, it was only this month that I found out that the Corbiere students were NOT sent to the well-equipped school over in Boege.
Oh no- that would make too much sense.
What happened was the children were all sent to the tiny village classroom where I taught last year- a space that had already seemed crowded with 17 students. This year it holds 26. They range from 1st grade to 4th grade (CP to CM1) and there's one miserable teacher trying to deal with them all. How that poor woman is helping the little ones to get on in a real school (as opposed to maternelle/kindergarten) and teaching them how to read at the same time as teaching all the older ones, I really don't know.

On Saturday afternoon, I saw one of my English students from last year. She's in CM1 this year. "How's school going?" I asked her.
"The teacher yells a lot", she answered. "More than last year."
I'm not saying that's a good way to deal with an unruly classroom, but I can only feel completely sorry for the unfortunate teacher and students forced into this situation...

On Monday, my English students surprised me with a book of drawings that they'd all made for me. I have to admit that it made me a bit teary-eyed. It was all so darn cute.

The little boy who made this one is one of those kids that generally hates school and can't sit still. But he likes to learn English...with me!

This is the only one that included a portrayal of me. I love my Barbie doll waist and the rocking manga-style boots! I'm not sure why the students are so teeny, though.

This was from my top student (not counting my girls, of course).
He went to SO much trouble, printing out a pic of the White House at home. And check out all the English phrases! He's only eight!! Smart kid!

The twins each contributed, as well.

Alexa made me this:

Yes, she knows how many stars and stripes there should be. She's citing artistic license.
I like how she gave my home state a mega shout-out.

And Mallory made this:

This place is SO where I am going on vacation this year: A reading-lamp equipped canoe floating under a grove of book-bearing boaobab trees.

The books are are carefully inscribed with tiny titles.

They include: "The Hobbit", "Bad and Good" , "Hard Life"

and my personal faves-"Happy Life, Happy Wife" and

"Good Mom Hard to Find".

Also, if you zoom in, you will see that my boat has a handy little tray

that holds a can of Dr. Pepper.

Mal made me a custom-designed paradise!

As I've mentioned before in my blog, I have spent the last five months teaching English at the primary school for three hours a week. My goal was not only to get them speaking, but to make them LOVE English.

When we started, the kids could count to 20, they knew colors and a few body parts, but that was it. English class was a bit...boring. And I don't blame them for thinking so. Some of them had been taking English lessons at school for FOUR years and still could hardly say a thing.

And it was definitely NOT the fault of the kids.

I know this, because by our final class, they could hold a short conversation, tell you about their daily activities, and hold their own in a Show and Tell session, among other things.

Best of all, they seemed to really enjoy themselves. I'd teach for nearly an hour and a half each session and they'd beg me to stay and teach some more.

The Show and Tell was a huge hit. At first, all 17 kids said they were going to bring their pets to school for the big event. But it seemed like asking for trouble to have hamsters, cats, rabbits, dogs, guinea pigs, a degu and a lizard all in the same small classroom for a whole afternoon. I was sad, but I had to make animals off limits.

What did they bring instead?
A soccer trophy, a bow, a knife (I hadn't thought to forbid weapons- but it turned out fine. No casualties), a painting, a book, a couple of statues from Thailand, some photos and two rock collections.

One boy brought his treasured cd of AC/DC's Back in Black. He plays guitar and idolizes Angus Young. He even gave a cute demo of Young's world-famous duck walk. ( For my mom, grandad and others who will have NO CLUE: The guy hops along on one foot while he plays. It's actually pretty impressive...if that kind of thing appeals to you.)

I put on the cd and we all listened to Hells Bells as the kids munched on the Rice Krispie bars I'd made for them.

And I thought: My work here is done.

The end of the school year festivities are piling up fast and furious. And I know I'm not the only one a bit overwhelmed. The other blogs I read have been full of it lately: school programs and plays, concerts, karate tournaments, dance recitals, hamster juggling demonstrations...anything to get the kids on stage.

Last weekend, we were at the twins' school program: The Inoui Inuit Show. This weekend, we'll be at the "African Dream" show being put on by the dance school that my three girls attend. The rehearsal schedule has been crazy, but we've just about arrived at the Big Day. Thank God.

Yesterday was the first dress rehearsal, so I had to get my girls ready to go. The teacher had specified "tribal makeup" and a messy chignon, full of rafia bits. I couldn't resist adding a few feathers.
My policy is: less is NOT more.

I have to say that I rather enjoyed myself and that I rocked the hairdos!
Here's Mal's:

Tragically, the teacher had also specified that the girls HAD to wear the 'special' headgear she created for them. Valentine posted about this topic and I have to agree with her: This is just Not Right.

Poor Mal looks so depressed.

We had determined early on that the round things were the bottoms of the feet and the animal was sitting on a big drum ( like in the circus. KWIM?). The twins then colored them in accordingly.

All of the other little girls, however, had interpreted this really awful drawing as an elephant standing on it's back legs, wearing a gaudy skirt and and XXL pasties.
In short: hoochie mama elephant.

I have to say that the idea had certainly occured to me- but I had quickly eliminated it. But now all the other girls wonder why the twins' elephants have on grey bras. (I told them to say that they used to be white, but got accidentally washed with the dark clothes- an attempt at some mom-type laundry humour. Only Tya thought that was at all funny)

Here's how Al's hair turned out:

Finally, here's Tya. She dances the part of a village woman and doesn't have to wear a trashy pachyderm on her head.

I'll do a more pro job on Saturday- I have some stick-on jewels and such. They aren't reusable, so I couldn't use them for the rehearsal.

There's one more dress rehearsal on Friday night and the big show is at 8pm in a huge auditorium in Annemasse - a huge auditorium that nearly burned down on Tuesday night.
True story!

I have some friends that were there last night for a (what else?) school program and just before the final group performed, smoke poured out of all the air vents and the alarms went off. The place was evacuated and scores of fire engines arrived. Three kids had set fire to the kitchen at the back to the building.

Crazy!

The back looked pretty bad yesterday when I had a look and the whole place reeks of smoke...but the show must go on, right?

Friday night was the end of the year party at the local primary school. We were treated to a show put on by the kids. It was based on Inuit folktales. That's what the twins told me, anyway.

I personally think that any Inuit person seeing it would have been very confused. I know I sure was. It looked to me like an amateur avant-garde dance performance set to assorted opera, jazz and French folk songs.
For a small-town school program, it was definitely odd. But I eventually decided that it was so wierd that it was kind of good, actually. KWIM?

In the days leading up to the show, Mallory kept mispronouncing "Inuit" and instead saying the French word "inoui".
"Today we're practising for our Inoui show!" she'd say happily.
And what does inoui mean?
Inoui: (adj) - unprecendented, unheard of; extraordinary, incredible

We eventually all started calling it The Inoui Inuit Show ...and that turned out to be pretty accurate.

But today's photos are not from the IIS. They were taken on Saturday, when I took my crew (+one pal) to a nearby town for some shopping, sight-seeing, and general fun. It was the day of the French "Fête de la Musique", so there was lots going on. Streets were blocked off and there were two stages for music and dance set up.
It was a bit lively, but not at all crowded. Just perfect, really. I even found a nice bookshop (and bought another book for my lovely shelves!)

We also stopped into a cute candy shop, where the kids each chose a treat. As I paid, the saleswoman said "Can I ask you a question?"
I restrained myself from responding with a logical "You just did," and told her she could, of course.
"Are the children ALL yours?"
"Only four of them." I answered. I almost added "Why? You want to buy one?" but French people often don't get American humor.

And we went on to discover the rest of the town...

La-Roche-sur-Foron is an amazing old place. It has existed for thousands of years as a settlement and many of the builings date from the 10th to 17th centuries.

Here's one of the many old entrances to the center of town: Saint Martin's Gate. It's from the 13th century.

Here's a typical house, built right into a huge rock outcrop.

Here's what's left of the 11th century castle that used to be at the center of town. Now only a tower and a couple of outer walls remain. But the tower is in good shape (though it lost the topmost story hundreds of years ago.)
We bought tickets and climbed to the very top.

Here's another typical view- the town is built on a rocky hill and surrounded at the bottom by a river. There are lots of terraces leading down to it.

We had a great time and despite the darkening sky, we never got rained on. It was just breezy and cool - perfect weather for walking up and down lots of steep , narrow streets!

Yesterday morning, Tya's class got out of school early. After only one hour of French class, they were back on the streets. So, I drove down and picked up my daughter and her best guy pal(or possible bf- the jury is out on this one.)
I had some errands to run, so I took them with me to a nearby shopping center. And in the supermarket there, I spotted this:

Tya positively squealed with delight. And even I made sounds of great suprise and delight.

Her friend thought we'd lost our minds.

It's not that we are 'into' junk food. We're definitely more of a brown rice and veggie burger household.

BUT

We hadn't seen a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup or a Dr. Pepper since August 2007. So, it WAS very entertaining and surprising.

When I left France about 10 years ago for Africa, it was very difficult to find any American products at all in our area. I could occasionally find peanut butter or pancake syrup at outlandish prices. That was about it.

But now I can easily get items like: Old El Paso taco shells, Skippy peanut butter and
Campbells Cream of Mushroom soup (essential for the occasional US-style casserole). Even Pepperidge Farm cookies have caught on.

Crazy!

We bought nine packs of candy (@ 1 euro each. splurge.) and the last two cans of soda on the shelf. Guess some other Americans got there before us. I have NO clue who they were. I never see/hear fellow USA folk around. The only anglophones I ever run into are Brits. Odd.

I'm not sure I'll be a frequent buyer of this stuff. We've gotten along without it pretty well until now. But it was kind of fun. If only they'd get Crisco (which I need for my cake decorating) and Diet Dr Pepper)

And now for something completely different-

We've done some more work in the house!

Now when I look down from my office stairway, instead of plain white walls, brown lino

and grey plywood doors, I see this:

Check it OUT!!! Turquoise/aquamarine walls, a new light fixture, pale yellow cement floor, new doors for the closet and powder room,

PLUS floor to ceiling bookshelves nearly two stories high!!!!!

Before he left on Monday (for one month in Ouaga) , JP got some of our African artwork hung up on the walls.

I have been really busy these past few days, getting (very heavy!) boxes of books from the garage and attic and putting them on the shelves.
The books are, of course, arranged by genre and then by alphabetical order.
If I had more non-fiction I'd definitely Dewey Decimal it :) but I've only got about two shelves full and it hardly seems worth it.

I LOVE this SO much!

Can a stairway count as the favorite room of your house?

(NB: The very top shelves will be easily reachable by a special ladder we are having custom-built. )

Last weekend, I loaded up my car to maximum capacity (1 driver and six kids) and took them all to a concert put on by the local "School of Rock" that has already gotten a few mentions in this blog. It was the same groups we saw at a similar concert a few months back, but most of them were amazingly improved. It's heartening what a few more months of practice can do for a fledgling rock group!
The only exception was the oldsters' group- made up of six folks age 40-ish and above. At the last concert they'd graced us *ahem* with their cover version of 'In the Court of the Crimson King'. Then they performed it again at this concert. But this song (for those unfamiliar with it's length and tediousness) is a case where once is more than enough. The musicians were obviously having fun with it, but the audience? Not so much. They were a great group- don't get me wrong (especially if you are a member of said group and are reading this blog!) I just wish they'd expand the repertoire a bit and cut down on the pretentious, 10 minute long, 1960's progressive art rock songs. Cut that last down to zero, maybe even...

But most of the groups are made up of kids aged 10 and up, having fun. Some of the groups are really quite good. One of the best is a group headed up by the son of some good friends that live nearby. He's quite a good singer, with plenty of confidence and personality to back up his technical skills.

Last week was the first time I'd taken the twins along to see him perform. Alexa, in particular, was enchanted and hung out with the older kids right in front of the stage.

When we got home, she told me: "I'll never forget this night, ever! I'll remember it my whole life!"

In fact, all the kids had a great time, so when I learned there would be another concert in the same venue just a week later, I decided I'd take the kids. The poster advertising the event was kind of sleazy and normally would have put me off. But I knew lots of local families were going. And our friends' son would be playing again. All the other groups, though, would be ones we'd never seen.

So, Severin invited a couple of friends, as did the twins. Due to space problems, we had to kind of juggle and carpool with neighbors, but all nine of our little group got there in the end.

There were some great groups and it was good fun, but the alcohol was flowing pretty freely and there were lots of younger folk there that seemed to be getting 'well-lubricated' as the night wore on. So, even though the concert was to go on until the early hours of the morning, by 10:30 I had my group of kids gathered up and in the car for the drive home.

Once in the car, Tya popped in one of her cds, so that we could drive back with the windows open and the music turned up very, very loud. This, apparently, resulted in us being very, very cool, according to the sacred laws of teenagers worldwide.

The volume got louder and louder, finally cranked to the maximum for Muse's latest hit off the Twilight soundtrack. (NB: Normally, I'd have add a hyperlink there, but if you don't know what Twlight is by now, you're beyond the help of a mere link.)

For the second post in a row, I have photos and not much text. I've somehow suddenly become a woman of few words and many pictures.

I spent today helping out at a regional folk dancing festival that was held for the older primary school students.
I didn't dance or sing...I was the photographer for our group

The picture above is my favorite. The flying feet and swinging hair really give a feeling for how the day went - fast and fun. And doesn't the little girl on the left look completely joyous?

The children practised for months to get ready for this. They learned 10 different dances from Brittany( Bretagne) , as well as several songs.
The twins loved it all and practised hard. They were SO ready to perform! It was all very cute and lots of fun.
(The band was great, too. It was made up of four elementary school teachers that perform in the region on the weekends. They were really good!)

We've definitely decided to try the local college, despite all the problems that the principal so kindly outlined in detail for us last week.
We'll send the twins there for one year and see how it goes.
My post on this subject garnered about half a dozen comments and even more emails. One of them contained this bone-chilling phrase...
"Now that there are People Who Decide Things salivating over the baccalaureate system as a potential educational system here in the US..."
This was from a blogging teacher in the USA, so she knows of what she speaks. And what she speaks of would SO never work, I can only hope the Powers That Be give up the idea, pronto.

The Bac system in France is a bit complicated and I don't want to describe it in detail here- otherwise this post will puff up to Godzilla-on-steroids-sized porportions. If you want to know more about how it works, visit our friends at Wiki and spend a moment. But in short, it's a huge test that you take at the end of lycée (high school) that qualifies you for further education. It's NOT multiple choice. It's essays and oral exams and it's very, very demanding. A score of 10 out of 20 is the minimal passing grade. Perfect scores are almost unheard of.

But here's the thing: The Bac is a French institution that works in tandem with the totality of the French educational system. They start training the kids for this from the moment they enter school at age three.
I'm not saying they "teach to the test". That's certainly not the case. I'm saying that the educational system is not warm and fuzzy. Everybody is NOT a winner. The teachers do not think it is their job to "build self-esteem" in their students merely because the latter are present in the classroom and breathing oxygen. Self-esteem is (quite properly, I think) seen as something that stems naturally from real accomplishments and mastery.
What a concept!
Sadly, this is NOT the case in the US system, where students tend to have sky-high self-esteem (from being praised constantly for even the most trivial things) and comparatively few real skills.
Maybe you think I'm being a little harsh?

Very harsh?

Just have a look at this report from the well-respected Brookings Institution.

Here are a few excerpts:
"6% of Korean 8th graders surveyed expressed confidence in their math skills, compared with 39% of US 8th graders. But Korean students far outscore American students in math tests."

(So, all this US 'confidence' does not translate into actual mastery..)

"The world’s most confident eighth graders are found in the Middle East, Africa, and the United States (ranked ninth)...... however, these countries are not particularly high scoring on the TIMSS math exam"

(Again, kids in the USA think they are math wizards, but don't actually have the achievements to justify this attitude. Isn't anyone getting cognitive dissonance overload? )

"...even the least confident student in Singapore outscores the most confident American student"

(emphasis in bold added)

"It is only natural that adults want children to be happy. Indeed, many of the most popular education reforms of today, once all of the rhetorical flourishes are stripped away, place children’s happiness on equal footing with their learning. The pursuit of knowledge
may be important, but only if it simultaneously raises student contentment and self-esteem"

So, in the US educational system, self-esteem is much more important than actually learning anything. They're admitting it! And that alone makes something like the Bac completely inappropriate. You can't coddle and cosset the kids in the shallow end for 12 years, constantly telling them "good job" for each feeble splash they make, and then suddenly throw them into deep water, expecting an Olympic-caliber butterfly stroke.

To put it bluntly: The Bac works in France because the system is harsh and merciless from day one. Nobody is particularly worried if kids are bored, unhappy or lacking in elevated self-esteem levels. They are supposed to be learning things and becoming responsible people. It is assumed that happiness and confidence will eventually come from growth, learning and achievement.

The system isn't always "nice". Ok. It's not even occasionally "nice". I have mostly found that the teachers are very harsh and critical compared with teachers in the USA. They get away with behavior and comments that would have parents in the USA yanking their kids out of school and contacting their lawyers.

Also, the schools don't really offer any 'fun' courses. It's all math, French, biology, etc... something that many Americans have a hard time imagining. But you don't have TIME for band, archery or journalism when you are trying to prepare for the Brevet and the Bac.

I just can't imagine how the US could effectively institute a reasonable equivalent to the Bac. And what would be the point, anyway? The Bac is not a test that lets you "graduate" from lycee. It's a test that qualifies you to go on in your education. If you have a menial job waiting for you after lycée, you can just skip the Bac. No problem.

In that sense the Bac is more like the ACT or SAT exams. (Only the Bac is MUCH harder. It's hours long and there's NO multiple choice, remember) As the US already has pre-university testing in place, why bother with a Bac?

Sound like a recipe for disaster to me...