Report cards

In mid-December the kids' first trimester report cards arrived in the mail. We had already received an informal progress report before the Fall break last October, which indicated that everyone had gotten off to a good start and was making progress (except that apparently Nicolás was not singing enthusiastically in French class, although he was in English class, go figure), but we had no idea what to expect regarding grades.

Having heard horror stories about the French grading system, we were happily surprised that all three did great—which to me is an indication that children don't always take after their parents, or at least their dad. The school used a letter grade scale established by the European Commission that is gaining popularity among some French primary schools and is similar to the one used in the United States.

The greatest thing was seeing them learn French. From the very first day the teachers spoke to them only in French. For a while Nicolás, when asked how he liked the school, said it was boring because all they did was sit all day and not understand anything (he also questioned the "Active" in the school's name). Evidently this is a great way to learn a language and the results could be seen. It was amazing how effortlessly they were just absorbing the language and were soon understanding quite a bit and were speaking some. But what impressed us the most was the beautiful French accent they were acquiring, which I think is half the battle when learning French or any language for that matter. Not surprisingly, they were pedantically correcting us when we would mispronunciate. One of them, who shall remain nameless because he probably would not like this to be known publicly, sometimes liked to speak French à la Americaine (as in, par-lay voo frahn-say?) and got in trouble for this because his teacher thought he was making fun of a kid in his class who apparently spoke French that way. 

The only problem I saw with the adaptation program is that because English was the main language for most kids, they didn't have many opportunities to use the language outside the classroom.

A couple of their classes were in English, for which they had an English teacher, Mme. Pinchon, who was actually Irish: English, of course, and History. They were learning French history, way back since the Lascaux caves, famous for their Paleolithic paintings, and one day one of them mentioned in a matter-of-fact way that Charlemagne was a great promoter of education; and that he was the son of King Pepin the Short. They were currently learning about the Battle of Hastings during the Norman conquest of England. How could they remember all that yet not remember to pick up their clothes every day?

The teachers were great. Not the warm and fuzzy kind they were used to in the U.S., but also not the stereotypical French teacher. Their philosophy seemed to be that these kids did not choose to move to France, so before they were thrown into the French system they were entitled to a friendly adaptation period. So, for example, because they knew kids were putting forth their best effort every day, they left only a bit of homework, which was fine with us. Helicopter-parenting had not arrived in France, so there was little to no parent involvement within the school, which was also fine with us.

They had school on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. There was no school on Wednesdays; also a French thing, apparently so kids have one day a week to do other non school-related things. But the school offered a French language and culture workshop on Wednesdays and most times they went on sightseeing and cultural trips. So far they had been on the Bateaux Mouches, to the Cité des Enfants at La Villete, the zoo at the Jardin des Plantes, the Kapla Center, the Opera Garnier, the Grand Palais, and the Braille Museum. Other times they stayed inside and did arts and crafts, such as their own street sign. Just before the Christmas break they invited us over for coffee and croissants at their very own "Café Monceau."

They got an hour for lunch (and play time) and one short recess in the morning and another in the afternoon. They have lunch at the cantine (cafeteria), which is quite different from the cafeteria in their US school, where pretty much all they got was pizza, chicken nuggets, and other finger food. We decided to give it a try at least during the first trimester, and since it hasn’t been totally horrible for them we've called the experiment a success (though they might argue with us on that: the other day we heard Daniela say she doesn't like the cantine because they serve parent food, not kid food).

All of them made good friends quickly, which is probably the key to their quick adaptation to the new school and environment and is likely why they've put up with this whole adventure. Since the school is right next to Parc Monceau, just about every day several families head over to the park. We look forward to more of those instant playdates once the temperature warms up a bit.

Having our kids in a French school has added an extra dimension to our stay that we would not have had otherwise. In a way the school is our main connection to French life, it's what differentiates us from regular tourists. Dianny and I have also met a lot of parents and made good friends through the school, many of them American, even a couple of Colombians. Most are people who've been transferred by the organization they work for (for example Google, Accenture, Unesco, OECD), others who've moved their work to Paris, and also a couple of families who like us moved here just because they wanted to or to expose their kids to a new culture and language. Most are here for at least two years. But regardless of the circumstances that got us here, we all have one thing in common, that of being so grateful for the opportunity of being in this fabulous city and for the wonderful school experience our kids are enjoying.

I recently read an article on the New York Times about an American family's difficulties and struggles with their new Russian school after they moved to Moscow in 2007. It made me realize how lucky we've been during this whole adventure and how easy the transition was for everyone. 

(URL of the article: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/18/magazine/my-familys-experiment-in-extreme-schooling.html)