Mention Bien | My Husband Drives A Lemon

We have just celebrated the Remise de Brevet with my 16 year old daughter.

Who would have thought, only three years ago, we could have so proudly watched this moment. I was only sorry that ‘Husband à l’Etranger’ had to miss the event. In three years my daughter has gone from wordless, to literate French student and I am so proud of her achievement.

Settling next to me, some other French parents took their seats to watch the 132 strong year group receive their certificates. How did she do, they whispered. But then the proceedings were underway and there wasn’t time to answer. They didn’t have long to wait however, we are amongst the ‘A’s in the alphabet!

First, our lovely, and ‘so chic’ headmistress talked of the achievement of the year group. A 100% pass rate, 34 with Mention Très Biens, 52 with Mention Biens, and 24 with Mention Assez Bien.

And then one by one she called up the students to the award table,

Before I had time to focus the camera, my daughter was receiving hers!

There was quite a buzz when word got out that she’d passed with a Mention Bien, and the applause resounded.

Then we all settled in to watch the rest, and giggle at the new ‘lycéen’ girls’ liberated foot attire. Some could barely walk in heels that defied gravity…and the distance from seat to award table!

Having left for different Lycées, the hubub of student ‘catching up’ threatened to drown out the ceremony. But everyone was too good humoured to mind that, or the popularity cheers as each student rose in turn.

Wisely the headmistress directed the students to the alcohol-free table of refreshments before everything really got out of hand, and we parents savoured the champagne, canapés and Macarons on offer.

I’m sure my O’level certificate just got sent in the post !

Champagne and Canapés – sigh!

Secretly, I think I was shortchanged!

Yesterday I headed out in the chill wind to my first Lycée parent meeting. As ever, the meetings were behind time, and there was a quantity of parents grumbling outside the door. I had been suprised when my daughter had only handed me one meeting time. I should have been forewarned!

Inside the classroom, the tables had been turned to form a wide ‘U’ of 8 professors, intimidatingly seated side by side, whilst some three metres away on the other side of the room, a lone table and two empty chairs lay in waiting for the unwary parent. The table was in fact so far removed from the professors that I looked for reassurance from them that this was indeed my intended seat;

With an inward snort, It was all I could do to refrain from declaring,

“Guilty as charged, your honours”

…before throwing myself at their mercy.

Remembering that this was my daughter’s educational future at stake, I took my seat meekly.

My daughter has a place on the OIB (Option International Brittanique) in which History/Geography and English Literature are taught in the English Language. One of my little perks through collège has been to ‘test’ the quality of the various English teacher’s command of the English language at parent/ teacher meetings, giving them a minor attack of stress whilst at the same time giving myself a much needed break from the intense French conversations with the other professors. Imagine my delight when I was offered the choice of the entire 8 professor/parent meeting in the English language for the first time in three years.

Barely had I uttered my agreement than the French teacher not only disagreed, but point blank refused to speak English before launching a french tirade against my daughter’s mastery of the French language. The result was that all the other professors were forced to follow suit. The language reverted to French. Had I been in the individual man to man meetings which so identify the collège privé, it would not have mattered that one teacher preferred to speak in a particular language, everyone was at liberty to make a personal choice. However the ‘assises’ method guarenteed that the most forceful professor held sway and dominated the proceedings, rail-roading any other voice in the room.

“Elle manque les bases” she declared. Her declaration that I should find my daughter a private specialist French teacher was generally underlined by the opinion that if one has not mastered the intricacies of the French language then one is stupid. Was Madame Française not meant to be the French teacher? I have read about this attitude suffered by other non- maternal French speakers, but this is the first time I have been a recipient in all my time in France. The intimidating layout of the room did nothing to encourage a conversation though I had a good attempt at arguing my daughter’s corner, inwardly amused that my own mastery of the French language, so much inferior to my daughter’s was in all probability excruciating to her ears. But at the end of the day it was hierarchy verses the subordinate.

Guilty as charged for the murder of the French Language!

On orientation for Premier, the French teacher clearly believed the Bac L (literature) choice would be a ‘mauvais idée’ (bad idea), Monsieur Math speculated on a choice of the acclaimed Bac S (science) since the proportion of marks allotted to literature subjects and essay writing were reduced, but there was a squawk from Monsieur Chimie (chemistry)at the far end of the table. Like me my daughter is not keen on things exploding out of test-tubes! Bac ES (economics and sociology) it was then! Discussion over! A happy medium for a happy daughter.

It was our first experience in the state sector, and it was a far cry from the accessibility of the private one. Perhaps this situation is universal or perhaps each school is unique in it’s approach. Certainly the layout of the room gave no room for confusion about the way the meeting was going to proceed. Sadly I left the room at the end of the allotted time knowing only the feelings of the French teacher. My daughters progress in all the other subjects remains a relative mystery.

“Elle est mignon” – offered Monsieur Math as I got up to leave, (she’s cute)

“Well thank heavens for that” I thought as I left the room….

…..If all else fails at least she’s pretty!