I went to the réunion at Nellie's school last week -- her school is run by two young women who are very organized and precise, and they gabbled on for three and a half hours about every detail of la vie scolaire, looking at their carefully prepared notes and outlines that had headings underlined in different colored inks. Even though the experience of listening to all that education talk left me feeling like a wolf trying to chew its leg out of a trap, I was terribly pleased with myself because I could understand what they were saying. Less pleased when I told Nellie's teacher that "She reads the books of chapters." But still.
Julian's school is run by three men, older and rumpled and much less interested in rules and bureaucratic regulations. I was understanding about a third of what they said. Maybe.
We trooped into Julian's classroom with the other parents, who ranged from round women with only a few teeth to a very glamorous woman with gorgeous eyes and the makeup to go with it. Julian's teacher, Philippe Martin, is middle-aged, with hands that look like they could crush boulders. He wears a silver ankle bracelet over his white athletic sock. He is a mixture of kind-hearted and very solid, both physically and emotionally -- Julian has told us stories of the way he handles a classmate who sounds possibly autistic, by holding the boy firmly in his arms to keep him from hurting himself, and speaking to him in a tone both soothing and strong.
Chris and I are soon scrunching down in our seats because Philippe begins by describing his complicated classroom that has an American, an English, and a Dutch child, and then continues to talk about Julian. And more Julian. We are understanding bits and pieces, but at least we can make out Julien when we hear it. Both of us half expect the French parents to stone us when the réunion is over -- these Americans, overrunning our village and taking all the maître's attention!
The reputation of French schools is that they run with Napoleanic precision, every French student in a class learning the same thing at the same time, all over France. Not in Philippe's class. He talks about how each child works at his own pace on what he needs to be working on. I'm not sure how he manages that with around twenty students, three of whom don't even speak French. But he inspires confidence. He talked about how the class solves problems as they arise, like that fact that kids were playing rugby on the asphalt last week (France is in the grip of a rugby craze at the moment) and kids were getting hurt. Rather than the teacher telling them to knock it off, they sat down as a class and had a kind of trial, with kids writing their opinions on a piece of paper and then voting on a solution.
At least that's what I think he said. Perhaps they're preparing to hang witches. Who knows.
