Today I had some French friends over for lunch. It was not too bright to do that the morning after a trip to the U.S.. I am still décalée (jet-lagged), and felt groggy as I walked around the supermarket. Usually I shop nearby, where there are lots of overpriced, friendly little shops, but when I am in a hurry I go to the supermarket.
In the morning, all the older ladies of the 16e arrondissement are doing their shopping and there were so many caddies (shopping carts that you pull along home) at the caddie-check that I thought I would take a photo. You can also see a stereotypical dame du 16e in the photo. She doesn’t dress up like that for a special occasion—that is how the average older woman dresses every day in the seizième. In fact if you see an older woman in pants (trousers to you Brits) around here, you know she is an intellectual.
A taxi driver told me he could tell when a woman was from the seizième as soon as she got into the car. Other people, he said, begin by, "Bonjour, Monsieur!" but les dames du 16e say, "Chauffeur...."
At lunch all we talked about was schools. One of my neighbors has five children in five different schools. (Having a lot of children is an important upper-class signal in this neighborhood.) Another friend has three children who have been in literally more than a dozen schools. In Paris you have to match a child to a school very carefully. A phrase you hear a lot is “rentrer dans la moule” (fit into the mold). As we all know, there are hundreds of kinds of child, but there is only one kind who succeeds in a French school. This child is excellent at math, French, and memorization, doesn’t care much about sport, music, drama or art, is confident to the point of arrogance, and enjoys perfect health. Everyone else is guaranteed a difficult and discouraging school career. It is quite common for bright French children to redoubler or repeat a year, once, twice or even three times before they are 18; many schools just throw out students they think are not brilliant enough. Grade school is still relatively benign but the pressure starts very early: in sixième/sixth grade (the kids are about 11 years old). That is when they arrive in collège, start changing classes every hour, and are expected to keep an eye on their future. They go to school at 8:30 in the morning and get out at 4:30-- or for older kids 5:30 or 6 in the evening, with several hours of homework each night. They work harder and harder in an infernal rhythm until at least the baccaleaureate exam at 18, then if they are good students, even harder for the two years of prépa to get into a grande école. A lot of kids actually move to a small room near the prépa during those two years, so as not to waste time commuting. But surprisingly, the grande écoles themselves are not as demanding. Once you are in, you can take a part-time job, or even get another diploma at the same time. But by then you have spent the years from 10-20 years old in a singleminded daze of schoolwork.
“With the trente-cinq heures [35-hour workweek, enforced for most employees],” declared Béatrice, “children work much harder than the grownups in France.”
you're brave to have a lunch just after returning from the u.s. i usually have KILLER JETLAG coming to france. this year wasn't too bad but one year it took me 2 months to feel really on track. heeheehee. that photo is great and is funny too! good of you to have your camera with you to take that picture.
Posted by: ptinfrance | 14 October 2005 at 19:40
The selection of schools is something that surprised me - my fiancé's brothers and sisters (three of them) all went to different schools. The parents selected specific places based on their offspring's profile and needs. A mix of public, private, religious and secular. Whereas I am so used to the norm being that you follow your brothers and sisters through a school. And you'd better hope you had a decent elder student ahead of you, as you lived with your elder siblng's legacy!
Posted by: oiseau | 15 October 2005 at 09:51