![\"Enfants](\"https:\/\/nadeaubarlow.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/Rentree-parisienne.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\nSchool in the French Republic is truly something new for us.<\/p>\n
We got our first taste of it before we even exited the airport in Paris. Our customs agent, a bearded fellow in his late 50s, carefully studied Erika\u2019s passport. Too carefully, we thought. When he saw her sister Nathalie\u2019s, he blew up.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ll be going to school, these little ones?\u201d<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t exactly a question. But it wasn\u2019t a mere observation, either.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, of course,\u201d we answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut school started yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, we know,\u201d we said, trying hard to sound deferential.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut they are late!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, we have to register them at City Hall, then they\u2019ll start right away\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s unheard of!\u201d (The famous French \u00e7a ne se fait pas!<\/i>).<\/p>\n
We started to explain that we had already talked to the school\u2019s principal, and that he said it was okay if they arrived a few days late, but we immediately realized our efforts were futile. Doing his best to look appalled, he turned to one of his colleagues, and raised his eyebrows.<\/p>\n
Administrative Headaches<\/h3>\n
It was a good thing we didn\u2019t try to explain why we were arriving two days late for school: prices for plane tickets to Paris fell 25% the day after school started. We felt our little cost-saving maneuver was a tolerable transgression since we had pre-registered the girls at the neighbourhood school and gone to the trouble of meeting the principal during a business trip to Paris.<\/p>\n
The day after we arrived, we headed to City Hall to officially register the girls, and get this \u2013 to sign your child up for school in France you need to provide proof of residence, in the form of a gas\/electricity bill (it\u2019s one bill). You can\u2019t present a telephone bill. It\u2019s not trustworthy since phones are now privately operated. Only power bills are considered reliable: they emanate from a state monopoly.<\/p>\n
The problem is, to get an electricity bill in France, you need a bank account. But to open a bank account, you need \u2013 that\u2019s right \u2013 proof of residence, in the form of an electricity bill.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a vicious immigration triangle. Basically, to move to France you need to convince someone to bend the rules for you. For us, this came in the form of a soft-spoken and sympathetic city hall employee who accepted our application for an electricity account as proof of residence. We had to promise her we\u2019d provide a real bill when we got one.<\/p>\n
The First Day of School<\/h3>\n
We thought it wise to give our 10-year-old daughters a few basic vocabulary lessons (they speak Quebec French) before shipping them off to French school. In France, erasers are gommes<\/i>, not effaces<\/i> as in Quebec; pencil sharpeners are taille-crayons<\/i>, not aiguise-crayons<\/i>: snacks are called go\u00fbters <\/i>and not collations<\/i>.<\/p>\n
The girls\u2019 school happens to be located directly across the street from our apartment in the 5th arrondissement so we have a birds-eye view on French school life. Every morning, parents hustle by, dropping their kids off at school. Over the course of the afternoon, they arrive in a noisy, staggered procession. School in Paris finishes at three different times \u2013 not including lunch, from 11:30 to 1:30, when some parents (or grandparents) bring their kids home. Otherwise, they pick them up at 3:00, 4:30, or 6:00p.m. depending on what activities and programs they are signed up for. As we would soon learn, Paris parents have a lot of choice.<\/p>\n
This was one of our first surprises. We expected school to be extremely rigid, and days to be absolutely uniform. Instead, we had to makes choices even before our girls entered their classroom. Children can eat at the school cafeteria everyday or some days or not at all (most do everyday, so we said yes to that). Tuesdays and Fridays they have free after-school activities (yes, again). Then they have the option of \u201csupervised study\u201d from 4:30 to 6p.m., (we said yes for three days).<\/p>\n
For drop-off and pick-up, the school principal is always at the door, available for questions. He was a bit confused when, on the first day, we showed him the girls\u2019 report cards from Quebec. None of the school years match \u2013 except la maternelle<\/i>, kindergarten. Primary school in France starts with CP (cours pr\u00e9paratoire<\/i>, Grade 1), then CE1 and CE2 (cours \u00e9l\u00e9mentaire<\/i>, Grade 2 and 3), then CM1 and CM2 (cours moyen<\/i>, Grade 4 and 5). The next four years (Grades 6-9) are coll\u00e8ge<\/i>, and they are counted down<\/i> from 6th to 3rd, then there are three years of lyc\u00e9e <\/i>(Grades 10-12), also counted down: from deuxi\u00e8me<\/i> to premi\u00e8re<\/i>, and finally, terminale<\/i>.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t clear which year our girls should be in. French children start school at age 3 or 4, instead of 5 like in Canada so the kids Nathalie and Erika\u2019s age are actually a year ahead. Our girls could have been in CM2 with other 10-year-olds, or CM1, their actual school level. We put them in CM1 so they wouldn\u2019t have to struggle with academics and culture shock at the same time. Turns out French children learn more French, but less math, so the girls are challenged, but not too much.<\/p>\n