School - Part I

What do you get when you cross Roald Dahl and JK Rowling? Give up? You get Le Collège des Récollets, otherwise known as, Jane and Anna's middle school. It is one part Hogwarts, one part a melange of Roald Dahl's worst boarding school nightmares. OK, not quite. Let me start at the beginning.

The School
Notre Dame La Riche is a private Catholic school in Tours composed of a high school, middle school, elementary and pre-school. The school has the reputation as being one of the best schools in Tours. The girls are both in the middle school. Lucas is in the last year of pre-school, France's equivalent of kindergarten. Their schools are not connected but are in the same general neighborhood. The middle school is housed in a 17th century convent with its high stone walls, peeling paint, cobbled courtyards, stone stairways, a cloister, old wooden floors and exposed beams, and so on. Many of the students are boarded for the week and then go home on the weekends. Lucas, Jane and Anna come home every day for lunch. The girls can walk home in about ten minutes and I go and pick up Lucas. Depending on the day, they have between one and two hours for lunch.

The Sorting Ceremony

On the first day of school, the students at the middle school enjoyed what we like to call the sorting ceremony. The students are divided into "houses" with names of artists, poets and regional places. Jane's "house" is Gaudi, after the Spanish architect. Anna's "house" is Loire, after the river. When parents ask me what classes the girls are in, I still sometimes respond with the name of the homeroom teacher and not the house name. They look at me completely confused.

During the "ceremony" the director came out and separated all the parents and students. Then the students stood in the courtyard waiting for their names to be called out, at which time they would go stand with their "house". The girls looked so nervous and so brave. They had no previous orientation to the school, teachers, etc. All we had was the director's assurance that the girls would be well taken care of. After being sorted into classes, the students went one way and the parents went the other. It was a good thing I was wearing sunglasses because I had a few tears as I watched my girls walk off, knowing this was going to be one of the most challenging things they'd ever done.

The First Day

At lunchtime, I showed up at the school ready to hear all the marvelous stories of their first day. What I got instead was a flood of emotion, surprise! What was I expecting? Anna said she had cried nearly all morning and all her professor could say was "What's your problem?" She felt like he was mad at her for crying. It turns out that he didn't know she was American and that she was having trouble understanding everything she was supposed to do. The morning had been spent going over all the rules and details of the class, the laying down of the law (more on that later), going over the schedules, etc. Anna was supposed to be taking notes on the times various things were happening and they were given fast, in 24 hour time. She was completely overwhelmed. She managed to tell her professor at some point in the morning that she was not French. He came over to me and told me he thought she was crying because she had a headache. He has a soft, sort of mumbling voice and he talks very fast, almost under his breath. He was trying to be sympathetic but it was clearly a stretch for him. Professors here are not paid to consider the feelings of their charges (more on that later).

As I watched Jane walking out of the school, she was standing on the playground chatting with a boy. She looked fine. As soon as she got over to me, I saw in her eyes that she had been holding it all in all morning but that it was time for a good cry. So, we walked home through the narrow cobbled streets of Tours and laughed and cried at the absurdity of it all. Jane's morning had been similarly overwhelming but her teacher did know she was coming, had been prepared for her and gave her a big smile and welcomed her to the class.

After a big lunch and lots of hugs, it was time to go back. They weren't excited to go back but they were ready to do it anyway. I was and am really so proud of them. We have had many conversations about how doing hard things makes you stronger. I think the girls could probably now recite, by heart, at least 127 analogies on the subect.

By the end of the day, they had met several of their other teachers for various subjects, some of them very friendly. Anna, on the walk home in the afternoon said, "Mom, this morning seems so long ago. This afternoon was actually kind of fun." It turns out that her homeroom teacher is the perhaps the least lovable of the bunch. After him, everyone else seemed terrific. Jane had a similar experience, although I'm not sure if she ever used the word "fun".

Lucas, on the other hand, was very excited to go to school. He had packed his backpack several days in advance with everything he needed. Here is a picture outside our apartment building on his first day.We arrived at Lucas' school and I was expecting to get a little orientation of some kind, have a chance to meet his teacher, perhaps see his classroom. Instead, I was greeted by a similar ceremony that the girls had, except that his teacher gave each child a hug and a kiss when they joined her group. I held Lucas' hand and walked him up to his teacher. I told her that he was American and didn't speak French. She pointed to him and haltingly said, "American boy." That didn't really make me feel any better. They called names, separated kids and parents and the classes walked into the school. I ran over and asked Lucas if he was OK as he walked off holding hands with a little child in his class. He said, "I'm fine mommy," and away he went. I was completely speechless. Here is a picture of Lucas and his class and teacher: