Screaming at the Maternelle

This will be the third year that I've taken Chloe to school here in France. She's a real trouper because once again she's changing schools. There was nothing wrong with the last one, except, I just wanted her to attend a Catholic school like I did. It's another opportunity to pick up some religious instruction. Chloe's excited. She's a shy little girl so it takes some time for her to make new friends. She's feeling great knowing that even if her old friends can't go to the new school with her, most of her friends (all boys) live in the apartment building across the street. I have got to get this girl some little girlfriends!

This morning when I dropped off Chloe, she gave me a little smile and said, "Don't worry about me, mom, I'll be fine!" So off to her new classroom she went. Another point of adjustment, parents don't meet the new teacher on the first day of school. Further, parents don't even accompany their kids to the new classroom either. Although I experienced this back in Chicago when Chloe attend the Lycee Française, an all-French school, I still find it strange.

Jillian, on the other hand was another story entirely. She started maternelle or pre-school this morning. While I was allowed to accompany Jilly to her classroom, the morning was a disaster. I learned when Chloe was that age, you have to prepare your kids for school. I did this all summer by taking her to school and letting her get excited by the prospect of doing new things like a "big girl." I would have thought that there would have been a least one day of adjustment so that the kids could get used to the classroom (something we did back in Chicago), but uh huh - the French will have no such behavior. As a result, we had a room full of crying three year olds. Heck, even when Jilly started at the garderie (daycare) they made me go through a two-week adjustment period. Each day, I would leave for 15 minute intervals and by day three I told them, "Enough already - are you going to take her or not?"

It actually made me really mad because as I was leaving, I could hear Jilly crying, "Mommy, daddy, don't leave meeeeeeee! I usually have the strength of iron during times like these, but I have to admit, it really got to me. Then I got mad all over again at Philippe for moving here. In the States you can offer up suggestions without making the teachers feel like you're ursuping their power. Here, whenever I offer my advice concerning my children, it makes me look like the wicked witch of the west and frankly, I hate being put in that position. Trust me, I'm there often.

I called my mother about the day's events and her response was, "Well, it looks like you're getting your payback!" Then I remembered. When I started kindergarten, I cried every day for about three months. Every morning my mother walked me to the classroom and while she shoved me through the door, the teacher would be pulling me through at the same time. Eventually, I settled down. I have discovered that if I get Jilly to school before the crying kids come, she doesn't cry. So all I can say about the crying is, "Like mother like daughter." And, the promise of a great birthday present never hurts either.