Differences

by Clara Modlin

Lately I’ve been thinking about the differences in between school systems.  Where I used to live, France, the teachers were strict. They did not hesitate at calling us stupid, idiots, or (and this was not rare) mentally retarded.  The system was rigorous.  We had a college-type schedule, having two hours of French on Monday, none on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, or Thursdays, and then three on Fridays.

If you were absent for a test, there were no retakes.  You just got an ‘absent’ on your report card.  The schools weren’t afraid about holding people back.  ‘Left-backs’ were much more common in France then they are here; the French feel no sympathy for you in school.

As you can see, the American school system is almost a complete opposite of this system.  Teachers here don’t call you idiots; they manage to imply that you could have done a better job and they are disappointed in you.  They are much nicer in general.  My meanest teacher here, in this country, is nothing compared to my math teacher in France.

Her named was Madame Florentz.  She was 5’2” in her two-inch heels, and looked up to all of her students.  She was ancient; we don’t know how old she was on account of the fact that she did what every teacher at our school did.

She smoked.  And not only did she smoke, she smoked Kools.  As a result, her skin was monkey brown, and, due to her unfortunately large nostrils, she looked like a monkey.

Not that we dared to mention it.  She was ferocious.  One time a few kids in our class got the nerve up to tell her that she wasn’t a very good teacher.  That was a mistake.  She took out the class list.

“Voici les élèves qui sont bien dans ma classe.” Here are the students that are doing well in my class, she said to us.  Out of thirty-two in our class, she named eight.  Eight.  The students who insulted her not included.

The room was so silent our breathing was loud.  We were in the largest classroom in the school; the windows were open, there was a breeze.  I was sitting alone that day.  That was the only day in my memory that we all sat straight up, without talking, and we were all listening with our undivided attention.

But that part of my life is over now, and now I am back in this world where we students can do almost no wrong, where our opinions are taken into account.  At the end of this year my fellow classmates from last year will have to take a huge achievement test.  Their teachers will probably been threatening them about it all year.  The tension and stress will mount all year.

While I will sit there, enjoying the last days of school, I will wonder about them.  Will they do well?  Will it just be like any other test?  Will they have high hopes when they are done?

Or will they fail it, and go on to a life as a plumber?

Eh bien.  One does not always know the difference between passing and failing, achieving or not achieving, two different places, two different schools.