Troisième, Tiers Temps and the Brevet Blanc

I’ve had a bit of a break from writing for the last few weeks as my time has been taken up with the ‘to do’ list for troisième.

Back in December, I was approached by the prof principal for my daughter’s class. It turns out that for all those kids who have any disadvantages in the French school system, whether Dyslexia, or in our case being  ’Anglophone’, there is help at hand. It is possible to apply for ‘Tiers Temps’. Now because I only received the infomation by phone, this got translated onto paper as ‘tearton’, and whilst grateful for the obvious dedication on the part of my daughter’s prof, I didn’t really get to grips with what form this ‘help’ might take.

I received a fiche from school with the request that it be filled in with as much evidence as possible regarding her difficulties and that the form be signed by her doctor. This was duly done, and the medecin generalist signed that she was Anglophone, but wasn’t really in the position to specify what actual aid she would need or be entitled to.

It was only later that I learned about the existence of the ‘Orthophonist/e’, and I suppose that anyone moving to France with children already suffering from difficulties such as Dyslexia would be wised up on this one. It could never be said to be the case for my 15 year old. An orthophonist/e is a specialist who pays special attention to a child’s ability to comprehend  and articulate spoken and written language and information. We were hugely fortunate to have the ability to approach one direct for an appointment without a reference from our generalist, who in fact hadn’t pointed us in that direction anyway, because whilst working ‘à l’etranger’ (abroad) my husband’s Mutuelle (health insurer) allowed it.

My daughter passed a good 40 minutes with the orthophonist after an initial meeting ‘en famille’. The Orthophoniste gave us the ‘low-down’ on the ‘Tiers Temps’. This is the addition of an extra third of time, relative to any individual exam taken, to allow children with difficulties to have a respectable opportunity to succeed in their exams. For those with writing difficulties, for example speed, a physical disability, or those with comprehension difficulties, for example children being examined in their second language’ , Tiers temps gives them the time and ability to overcome their own particular issues. The Orthophonist was careful to check that the awarding of ‘Tiers Temps’ was not going to be held as a long term record against the child’s future.

Several days later I received a report from the Orthophonist noting where the specific problems lay which I was able to print out and include in our application in the knowledge that putting a ‘cross’ in the box ‘handicapé’ would not be a lifelong marker on our child’s education record.

In February the Brevet Blanc, the GCSE mock equivalent was upon us, the difference being that the Brevet Blanc exams actually do contribute to the final Brevet mark. The subjects examined were Maths, French, History/Geo and Education Civique, all 3 hours but adjusted to 4. My daughter reported that there were about 30 students, approximately 1/5 of the year group, who had been allocated Tiers Temps for one reason or another. We had been able to request access to a French/English dictionary as a comprehension aid and my daughter reported that one or two items of the exams were modified from the mainstream exam, mainly in French where the dictée was completely different.

There are another set of Brevet Blanc exams in April, covering the same subjects before the final Brevet Exams are taken in June.  The Brevet Blanc exams are marked externally and the results issued within the month.

I was impressed by the ability to register for this ‘third extra time’ allocation. It certainly made a difference to us, if nothing else than for taking the pressure off my daughter, and giving her the ability to read each exam question more than twice, and to write down the answers knowing that she had understood the questions. It’s not everybody who can go into a formal exam situation after two and a half years in a foreign country and come out with 60% in each subject, with the exception of French Grammar. But as the Orthophonist said – that is exactly the point – French grammar will ‘come’ in time, but making a intelligent child feel a failure by not providing them with room to cope with a passing disability would be a very bad educational ‘call’.

What is also of great benefit to me is having an expert highlight the difficulties experienced by my child, and I do feel that this would be a very beneficial ‘test’ for all my anglophone children to take. A problem identified is a problem on its way to being resolved!

If only they could dispense ‘Tiers Temps’ for struggling mothers so that they actually could get various pieces of paperwork in on time – but that’s another story!

The 2012 Brevet Blanc Papers will be uploaded shortly.

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Choosing Lycées

Images supplied by google.

If they had told me about Troisième – Choosing Lycées!

If any one had told me that I would have to choose  ’secondary’ school again whilst still attempting to heal the scars of the last time in the UK – I would never have driven through the channel tunnel. I would have taken the stationary M25, and flashing oil warning light as a sign that it was not meant to be.

Troisième, or year 10 is a year charged with pressure. There are major hurdles to overcome and it is not easy to maintain the calm chic dignity of the average French woman, when you’re a slightly crazed, manic englishwoman running around in circles in a state of partial comprehension.

Some time in September I attempted to pin down our school secretary to make an appointment with the head of  Collège, firmly believing that being slightly ahead of the game, I had a better chance of success if I had the process explained to me by a reliable source. The school secretary smiled sympathetically at me  stating “Mais Madame Axton, C’est vraiment trop tôt”. However by now she is well used to me in a stew, and finally agreed when I announced that my husband was just off to Nigeria again and there was absolutely no way I was going to go through this alone! At very least he needed to know just how much organising I was going to be doing over the next few months so that I could be assured that he would sigh reassuringly and groan sympathetically over the phone at a later date. But vastly more importantly, when it comes to official tasks, two heads are definitely better than one when it comes to total comprehension!

That done, We were informed about the key things; All the marks (or notes) for tests and homework assignments in Troisième counted towards the final grade of the  GCSE equivalent, in France known as the Brevet; that if a student didn’t achieve an average of 10/20 in every subject they wouldn’t be entered for the Brevet at all, and that the final exams were taken in June.

Secondly that all Troisièmes are required by law to undergo a ‘Stage d’Observation’ , a sort of work experience lasting a week in February in their chosen field of career.

Thirdly, immediately after the Christmas holidays all the students of the Troisième sit the Brevet Blanc, the equivalent of mock GCSE’s, only the grades count towards the final Brevet in June. The key subjects tested are Maths, French, History and Geography and last but not least Education Civique.

And finally, and scarily that the time had come to select a suitable Lycée for continuing education on to the Baccalauriat, the French equivalent of the A’level.

I discovered that there was such a thing as a Bac Option Internationale Brittanique, A Bac Mention Européen, and a Normal Bac . These were then all subdivided into three varieties, the Bac L, the Bac S, and the Bac ES.  It was necessary to select the correct Bac, either Literature, Science or Economics and Sociology, then whether to take the standard Bac or the supplementary Bac. The supplementary Bac (IOB, Européen and Anglophone versions) included 3 additional hours of the English Language to that of the standard Bac, with one non linguistic subject (usually history or geography, and occasionally science) studied in the English Language. What it was necessary to understand was that all three Bacs, L, S and ES all follow exactly the same program of 8 core subjects, simply the weighting of hours and marks lean in the direction of the chosen specialism. Therefore, more weighting in the languages, history and arts subjects for Bac L, and more weighting in the science subjects and French for the Bac S, and so on. And did I mention that this was just the choice for the Bac Generale et Technologique!

Having studied all the Lycées in Rouen I Immediately put pen to paper to ask for further details and true to French style – four months on and absolutely not one school has replied! I was later told that whilst French state schools will definitely not reply, Catholic Private ones might possibly. Sometime! If I’m learning one thing from my french life, it  is that the french don’t respond to letters, well not unless they’re love letters anyway (though sadly I don’t have nearly enough experience of this to definitively pass judgement) – And considering the mess engineered by Valmont by his letters in “Dangerous Liaisons”, I’m not actually surprised that responding to letters in France is a big ‘no no’ – I should have known really, if a year of futile  letter writing to our letting agent is anything to go by  - still it was good practice for my written French!

If I haven’t made it clear enough yet how the telephone, the instrument with which I would gossip for hours and hours in the UK, has become an instrument of  semi-torture here on French turf, let me do it now! But taking my role as a sometimes ‘efficient and organised’ mother seriously, I proceeded to phone them all, receiving from one and all a standard reply, “Mais madame Axton, C’est bien trop tôt”. Now where have I heard that before!

I endeavored to re-ring the Lycées in December with vastly more positive results. This time I succeeded to secure interviews with all of our shortlist, and my daughter and I made our way to the first ones before Christmas.

How fantastic to find myself let off the hook, although sitting in the directeur’s office with her,  the Directeur only wanted to speak to my daughter, and other than interjecting the odd comment here and there, I was happy to take the back seat and listen to her answering all the questions with an accent vastly superior to my own, and to smile wryly when she corrected my vocabulary or conjugation  in front of the directeur! I think both he, with all her ‘bulletins’   (school reports) in front of him, and I both realised at the same moment  just how far she’d come since her arrival two and a half years earlier and how far she could go. With  moyen (average) of 14.5/20 it was unsurprising that he offered her a place right there and then. By the end of all three interviews she held three places in her hands. It could have all been so easy if she hadn’t set her sight on the highest target of all.

For biligual or  strong english students the most aspired to Baccalaureat course taught amongst the Lycées of Rouen is the Option International Brittanique. Only one  public (state) school, five minutes from the Rouen city centre offers this option. Students following this class follow essentially the advanced Baccalaureat with the supplementary English, but leave with the added benefit of 3 English A’levels as well as the Bac International. With 500 applicants last year for 37 places, the competition is tough with an additional entry exam to weed out those not strong enough in English to survive the course.

So is there any light at the end of the tunnel, well yes for my daughter anyway, since the entry exam is a test of  English. Lets not rest on our laurels, but this will be the first exam she has sat in her native language since moving to this country. For the first time since our arrival it seems that being English might actually be an advantage! Was it worth braving the french autoroute that very first time – well yes absolutely! Can I see the benefits of  taking up residence in this complicated land and learning the ropes as I go – Without a doubt!

To know that  my children than the opportunity to chose Mediterranean from Mountain, Thames from Tour Eiffel when choosing their futures and the knowledge that against all odds they can succeed? A reward indeed.

(Why the French actually learn to write, in particular with all those lessons dedicated to the beautiful cursif script that epitomises french orthography, whilst having such an antipathy to putting pen to paper by way of responding to correspondence is an entirely different question.)

I shall get to the bottom of it in time!

For information about the Brevet Blanc click here, and for the Stage d’Observation click here. (under construction)

Inauguration of the Crèche de Noel

Version Francais

This is the christmas term of our third year in France. Month on month our children have immersed themselves into the language and culture of our local french landscape and where their education is concerned I have no worries.

Ecole and College St Dominique has an extraordinary level of attention to detail, and  time-tested organisation which keeps the parents firmly in touch with their childrens’ progress and with the teaching and pastoral team. History starts at the ‘prehistory’ and works its way systematically towards the present day, mathematical challenge is rigorous and the methodical testing at each stage easily surpasses that of UK schools without the need to stop progress for revision in class time. Reassuringly, French pupils actually are taught grammar, a skill that has been sadly neglected in the standard English school. Parents are encouraged to participate within the school environment, anything from participating in ‘catéchèse’ (religeous studies), to reading out loud to children at lunch time in a wide variety of languages (from spanish to russian) or participating in various fétes over the length of the year.

If I had to highlight the one major difference between French and English school, it would be in the realm of creativity and sport. Whilst english schools have a burgeoning emphasis on art, technology and woodwork, on teamsports such as rugby, cricket and hockey; for France these play a significantly lesser roll. This is not to say that art and technology and sport do not play a role in french education, but that it is essential for french families to offer a supplement.

Being passionately absorbed in creative arts myself, the odd niggles of doubt as to whether my children were being “drawn out” where creativity and imagination were concerned were never far away. Imagine my delight therefore when my son in quatrième (age 13) began to talk about one of the parent’s mission to create an entirely new ‘vision’ when it came to this years “Crèche de Noel”

For those who have already visited my post ‘A trip about Rouen‘ they will be quick to note that the students of quatrième B, under the inspired eye of Madame Corruble have created a perfect model of the ‘Gros Horloge’ and it’s surrounding buildings with the archway of the clock tower representational of the lowly stable.

The model, entirely fabricated from modelling card, with multi-coloured tissue paper to form the stained glass windows is the scene for the clay figures crafted by some students from troisième.

On friday 25th November, the crèche was inaugurated by the local priest in the presence of friends, parents and pupils of St Do, and illuminated for the first time.

Congratulations to Madame Corruble and the élèves of 4ième B for their painstaking attention to detail and their celebration of the architecture of Rouen with this beautiful Crèche; I feel inspired for my own preparations for christmas and confident that whilst creative art is not high on any french school time-table – Here in Rouen, St Dominique can claim first prize for inspiration and creative vision.

Merry christmas!

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A trip about Rouen

16. Juin – Fin de Trémestre, End of Term

We have made it to the end of the first school year! I can’t quite believe it as it seems to have passed in a flash. I wonder what we all have made of it ?

Rory has made it first to the goal of fluency, and I would like to stress to all readers that I am completely convinced that this milestone has been achieved thanks to three factors. The first and most important is confidence. Rory has from the outset been gregarious and enthusiastic, and never more noticeably than in the first weeks of term when his class-mates would shake him by the hand before launching themselves into a game of table-tennis before the start of classes. The second asset is musicality. In England he started playing the cornet at the age of 8, and had attained grade 3, and come third in the Lincoln music festival before we left. There is no doubting the ease which his ear has tuned into the language.  His best French friend is in the Rouen Conservatoire , and I have been astounded at her ability to understand me in full speed English and her ability to reply to a question directed at my own kids. The third asset is determination, and Rory has it in spades. In fact he is a perfectionist by personality (often displayed by his frequent corrections of my accent) and now, as we approach the end of our first calendar, my french friends tell me that he has no trace of an English accent. So, in short, it can be done!

However, conversely my other children are of a very different nature. What has struck me most about this year in France is that I have discovered who my children are with a clarity not available to me in the UK. In England life is a muddy stream, early consistent friendships, habitual hobbies and clubs give us all an underlying confidence and security. It is only when those are suddenly removed that one is given a glimpse of a person’s true relationship with life. I suddenly found that stripped of existing friends, two of my children were extremely timid. In fact I was astounded, having found them positively verbose in their opinions back home. Anabel is fairly musical, but not into any particular instrument, and had the disadvantage of age and timidity against her. Not only that but girls talk rather than play at that age. Consequently she found it extremely hard to begin with, and still does to an extent today. Not only are girls self-concious, but also need to look cool. Therefore it was excessively challenging for her to open her mouth and face stumbling through a conversation. I know myself how mortifying it is to construct a sentence which ultimately no-one understands. At the end of the first year she is still quite a way from fluency of speech, but her ability to read and understand is excellent, and her accent is fabulous.

Theo, as the youngest has also stunned me by being timid. He spent the entire year refusing to speak, and declared that he wasn’t going to play with French kids. We had told him that he would be the first to fluency. We had been told he would achieve it within 3 months. Do not believe a word of it. English and French are hugely different, and French has all the complexities of gender agreements. The children who generally achieved fluency that quickly tended to be Spanish or Italian, where the construction of the language shared many more similarities. In fact, he was very angry that he didn’t achieve fluency so quickly, and there was a marked downward turn at Christmas when the novelty wore off and the target wasn’t met. With Both Anabel and Theo, I felt hugely guilty at their struggles, and it wasn’t until May, when we invited Carole’s son for lunch during school, that I suddenly realised that they were speaking French in the back of the car, and that Theo was asking question after question. He is not fluent yet, but I don’t think it will be long into the next school year that he will be. Some children simply don’t utter a word until they have unravelled the language in their heads, and then go on to amaze you by speaking full blown french after months of silence.

Angus is a different kettle of fish from the others. He is a dreamer and generally gentle and easy going. He was the first to develop a couple of good solid friendships, which have strengthened through the year. How they communicated in the early days I have no idea, but lego figures seemed to help and a good deal of pointing! I still don’t know how far off fluency he is. I think we still have a way to go. Of all the kids, whist being hugely mathematical and top of the class in mental arithmatic, he has always found literacy challenging, and writing more so. He converses and is understood, but frequently doesn’t use complete sentences. Only time will tell.

I can’t give you a difinitive view of the school except to say that it is highly regarded, and they seem to have learnt plenty and enjoyed themselves as much as kids do at school. Anabel’s class had a rowdy set of boys in it who were seen as quite disrutive by the teachers, but Anabel’s view was that they were really funny and definitely increased her enjoyment during class. There were some teachers she detested, and some classes which were excrutiatingly boring – but isn’t that always the way! If the school lacked anything it was in the field of art and design and particularly for primaire.

I had always been told that sport was lacking in French schools, but whilst St Dominique lacked outdoor facilities on campus, being a city centre school, it bussed the pupils to the city stadium for athletics, basketball, rugby and baseball: to the ice-rink and to the swimming-pool; and taught fencing and badminton on campus. All sports were taken on a 6 week rota, and Anabel, not known for her fondness of sport actually admitted that she enjoyed it here rather than in the UK.

The final aspect of French school worthy of note is communication. I am used to hopeless communication from English schools. But in France each student has a Carnet de correspondence which enables parents and teachers to send messages and book appointments. It also holds a record of late marks, black marks and detentions. It has to be with the student at all times and the measures taken if a student forgets or looses theirs are bst not mentioned.

Having valiently slowed down the number of black marks against themselves from the begining of the year,( where they were doled out for missing school books and equipment or for arriving in class too late, despite having no comprehension of what the teacher had requested the previous lesson), we arrived at the last week of term with both Anabel and Rory nine points apiece. The tenth point would result in detention, and so I made great efforts to ensure that they arrived at school on time, including driving home twice one morning when we realised that we had forgotten a PE kit. Nevertheless, the tuesday before the end of term both arrived home with their tenth point. Rory’s was logged immediately and was expected ib detention the following day. This was highly inconvenient as it was held on a wednesday afternoon at exactly the same time as a party for Theo on the other side of town. I hastily wrote a message to the teacher in the Carnet de Correspondence, and the following day we set off for the party.When we arrived home there was a message on the answer machine, which I had to listen to three times before I got the gist of the message. Essentially, missing detention, note or otherwise was a hugely bad decision. Rory’s detention was doubled and rescheduled for the first week of the holidays.

Anabel meanwhile failed to get her black marks logged, her teacher being a little less efficient. Consequently she kept her head down for the final three days of term, and encouraged by her class-mates, got away with it. It was therefore only Rory who was driven into school the first wednesday of the holidays, for a oenerous french grammar lesson followed by cleaning out of the school cupboards! When I related the story to one of my french friend she looked rather shocked at my audacity for writing the note in the first place – which had apparently been viewed by the head of the senior school, because the French view is that you cancel your holiday for detention, or raise from your death bed to get your children there. There is simply no excuse great enough to excuse you!

The final note on the subject of this blog is regarding school reports. They are quite simply brilliant – in terms of the number received, not necessarily the content! We received a shorter, subject by subject report every half-term, complete with a record of all marks for tests and homework; and also the highest, lowest and average marks for each subject for the entire class. At the end of each term we received a fuller more detailed report, which also included a precis of the classes behaviour for the term.

The most important difference between French and English school is the act of “Redoubling”. If the staff don’t feel that a student has achieved satisfactorily over the school year they are made to redouble, ie take the year again. It is not an idle threat. It really does happen. In about March an orange slip of paper comes home with options for the following year. This may present parent with the ability to register their kids on a bilingual course, or preferences for changing schools or passing to the next scchool year. We opted to give Rory Latin, in addition to German which he has now studied for a year. We opted to give Anabel Spanish. Rory’s form came back with an agreement that Rory should move up to Cinquieme and do Latin and German. Anabel’s form came back with a questionmark over the necessity to redouble. We made a concerted effort to oversee her homework and really keep on top of the maths, and on the third pass over of the orange form she too was approved for quatrieme. Theo and Angus also passed their school years which I think is a huge success and a credit to their hard work. Roll on next academic year!

15. Mai – Classe Poney – Pony Club

We received the first letter about Classe Poney last month. Each of the two divisions of Theo’s year group would be spending three days at a residential equestrian centre in the Rouenaise countryside. Each class needed six parents to act as residential helpers, spending a night apiece in a dormitory to chaperone the children. I didn’t give it a second’s thought. I had three other children at home and I was essential to the operating of our home – school runs, meal times etc. I returned the list with a negative in the response box. Over the ensuing weeks I received identical letters with increasing frequency. I was beginning to suspect a conspiracy to conscript me. I began to break, weakened by the constant battery of demands. Could I make it work, could I install a strategy to take my place if I was to disappear for 24 hours?  Eventually I capitulated, surrendering to the request to take on a dormitory of 5 children for 24 hours!  It was only once I was firmly typed into the list that I realised that the conscription process had been applied with equal pressure to each and every parent – all the others were simply made of sterner stuff!

Once on that typed list there was no opt out clause – the contract was binding. I was more than a little concerned that Harry would suddenly announce an urgent meeting in London coinciding with my night away. With no family in the country – that would be a tough call! As it happened, it wasn’t me who ended up with the problem. The Russian maman’s husband was called away from town, and being in the same boat as me, with no family within a few thousand kilometres found she was unable to withdraw. She found herself in the unenviable position of finding acquaintances who would be prepared to look after her four year old son, who had never slept away from home before!

There had been two weeks selected for the camp. The first coincided horribly with Theo’s birthday, the second conveniently the following week. I completed the necessary forms (the French like forms!) politely requesting that since no weeks had been allocated, that classe CPb was given the second week. My request was duly ignored! It was necessary to organise an advance birthday/present unwrapping time in order to not disappoint his siblings, and prepare a cake for 30 children that was transportable, as well as preparing his and my bags for departure.

The day of departure arrived. The children were due to arrive at the equestrian centre for 5pm. Carole, who was chaperoning the first night in our dormitory, arrived in her car at my gate for us to go in tandem to take our respective kids. She followed me as we made our way through the depths of the countryside to the camp. Theo parted from me without issue when we arrived, and being his first night from home alone, I was more affected than him. Nevertheless, I was focussed on the cake making issue for the day ahead.

As is always the case, the following morning I discovered that my store cupboard had inadequate supplies. Having dropped the other children at school, I hastily dropped into the supermarket to pick up the last supplies. It was only when I came out of the supermarket that I suspected there was a problem. The roads were stationary with traffic and I was too far from home to walk. As I approached the roundabout for the by-pass, a mere kilometre from home, I saw road traffic police barring my turn. I swept the roundabout twice hoping I could smile sweetly at the officer and be let through. It wasn’t to be. By this time I was growing nervous. It had taken a good half an hour to crawl a kilometre, and now the only way home was to take a ten kilometre detour skirting the forest round three sides to take the northern approach! It seemed the majority of other vehicles had the same idea! The cake baking time was being irrevocably squeezed, if only I hadn’t left it to the last minute!

I eventually pulled into my driveway. Up ahead an articulated lorry had crashed on our roundabout and spilled his entire load of sand on the road. Ironically the road from the penultimate roundabout to mine was clear. The spill was on the section of roundabout after my own turn. Next time I will tackle the police more courageously. I had wasted a load of time! Glancing at the clock, I knew it was touch and go whether there was enough time to get the cake mixed and baked. But this was no ordinary cake. I owed it to Theo to make a whopper splendiferous cake to impress his friends, and this was the reputation of all English chef’s and housewives on the line. There was a band of French adults waiting to pass judgement on English culinary skills. I went into overdrive, beating and whisking with a passion, praying as I popped the enormous tin in the oven that it would cook in time for the lunch time school run!

Successfully cooked and cake shaped, after lunch I set about creating a chocolate fingers fortress complete with knights and flags curling off the battlements. Ready to set off for the equestrian centre, to relieve Carole from her post at the 5 o clock deadline, I received a call. The unthinkable had happened! A last minute meeting. No longer was Harry able to collect the children from school at 4.45. It was necessary for me to head back to the centre of town, cake sliding about in the hot sun in the back of the car. Typically my children were the last to be let out, whilst I anxiously tapped my fingers against the dashboard, all the time watching the cake for signs of slippage. I threw the car into gear and headed back out into the traffic to take them home, watching them into the house before I sped off trying to make up time for my now late arrival at the equestrian centre –carefully negotiating the corners to prevent the cake being swept off it’s board and under the seat!

I relieved Carole who was waiting, anxious to be off, and who had spent a sleepless night with uncooperative children. It was only then, once the cake was safely hidden away in the kitchen, that the reality of what I was up against popped into my head. I was about to take on 5 unruly children, guide them through quiet dormitory play, dinnertime and preparation for bed. I was resolved to read them a story – in French – and get them to quieten down for sleep with a very limited vocabulary. I was hugely anxious that they wouldn’t understand the story with my dismal accent and believed I would be up till the early hours plaintively pleading with them to sleep. It is an awkward and unyielding position to be in when  children 6 times younger  are more verbally adept than their carer!

It started scarily enough as I had anticipated. Despite all the outside exercise and fresh air, the kids were over excited, particularly Theo who was in invincible birthday mode and desperate to see his cake. Instead of a quiet game of Uno, the boys took to lobbing their teddies from the top bunks, simultaneously jumping on the top bunk and swinging them about their heads like  Olympians, trying to “take out” their companions. The decibel level was rising, and as fast as I was reaching up to remove one child from his position, another would replace him. It was of course at this moment that Veronique, their very efficient and strict teacher popped her head around the door to check how were were getting on!

Dinner-time followed with a classic French three course menu, followed by English birthday cake. Slightly suspicious at first the children devoured the cake, leaving only a small tower (on request) for me to take home. I was hugely glad that everyone seemed to enjoy it, if for novelty alone. But consequently I was overwhelmed by the number of 7 year old French children sweetly coming up to me to express their enjoyment. I have never experienced that before – maybe the English children will cheer as the cake arrives to the table at an English birthday party, but these children came up individually to me after they had finished, and each told me it was lovely, or delicious and a myriad of other compliments in between. In cute 7 year old French, it sounds even better!

I was even more delighted to hear that Veronique had decided to spare me the humiliation of story reading by reading to the whole class herself, and so the whole class disappeared into the adjoining room whilst we adults went to prepare the dormitories for bedtime. We began by sending the children in to the showers, and I fielded the requests to find the correct bottle of shower gel, flannel or towel. The wet floor became a disaster zone with children tumbling over and the one blood nose. But bit by bit we shepherded them into their respective bedrooms and attempted to get them to sleep. It is never a good idea to chaperone the dormitory with one’s own son in it. They never respond to parental discipline – especially when there is an audience and it is their birthday. There followed an half hour period of snorts from under my son’s blankets, followed by uncontrollable giggling from the other bunks. My “quieten down” vocabulary of one phrase was quickly mimicked by the same little boy to more hysterical sniggering., and after an exasperated attempt to induce sleep by a “copy the adult” representation of sleep in my own bunk, I barked to the two remaining offenders –” S’il vous ne taisez –pas, je vais chercher Veronique”. and suddenly  – Silence! If only I’d tried that at the outset.!

The following day the kids experienced a “Balade des Poneys” in the forest near the centre. Fifteen little children set off leading fifteen other little children on Shetland ponies. All went well until we emerged onto the road where the verges grew green with their abundant vegetation. The ponies, having been stabled overnight, and possibly for some days, on feeling the fragile pressure on their leading-reins, made a bid for freedom. Suddenly nigh on ten little children flew over the heads of their pony’s as the brutes suddenly raced of and abruptly dropped their heads to enjoy the roadside banquet. Terror took hold and a cacophony of wailing and sobbing shattered the quiet, as the six adults attempted to gather together children and ponies before one of the little darlings was trampled underfoot.

Later that afternoon, the parents arrived to collect their offspring and, once they were safely dispatched, Theo and I left for home!