In the deep mid winter....where?

The UK village has an annual Christmas Fayre, which I have not previously attended, but because of the link I am trying to build with the school in France, we did.

What met us was a sight to behold. The village was alive & alight with people, activities and a spectacular sparkle of Christmas lights. Stalls selling all manner of Christmas goods lined the small street and smells of hog roast, hot chocolate and happiness filled the air.
So, taking the photo opportunity we set off; regaled by Christmas carolers,  calls to buy holly wreaths, glittery cards and home made sweets.

 With stall holders dressed in festive guise and children everywhere sporting flashing antlers, fairy wings or Santa hats, it was really something.

We took cake and refreshment from the village hall and chatted in awe over mince pies and mulled wine in the church (yes and it was even sold over the font).

Here a series of tableau's depicting 'Silent Night' were mesmerising and almost medieval with the church so alive with people & conversation.

When suddenly it struck us, it all felt very French! so why did this bejewelled Peak village so remind us of France? simple, the people.


People,families & community all out to enjoy, meet,
celebrate & have fun.
It was surreal and, as I viewed the scene through the camera, a small voice cried out
 " Bonjour Madame Machin !". 
As I looked up I was not sure which country I would be looking into. What I saw were the eyes and  beaming smile of a child,full of wonder !               Joyeux Noel

Not a letter from Santa...

And so I visited the English village school with my carefully prepared lesson & letters from the children in France. What I didn't expect was the children's response, it blew me away.

 I took large photos of groups from the French class, so the English kids could see who had authored the missives and this captivated the children.

Spontaneously and very seriously, when given a letter they stood up to read them. Now the English was simple, the style repetitious and the illustrations brief, but these letters were handled with a sort of reverence.


 Why? Well I think these children knew just how difficult it had been for their French counterparts to achieve this and they valued it. They appreciated the effort, the neatness and the personal nature of the  drawings and each child held onto the letter  and wanted to re-read it...it was really touching.

So it seems children are the same all over; they love the personal, the real,  the 'learning that comes from life'.
And that day ,a set of small hands reached, some 500 miles over the channel, and touched some English youngsters hearts.

Short and sweet

Shorter is sometimes sweeter and so it is now. I have a French lesson to prepare for my visit back to the village school in then UK next week. A small class, keen children, a committed little school and an enthusiastic staff, but here I am questioning.
And what am I questioning, exactly what started me on this blog...the desire to impart the passion, motivate, in short to  teach and teach really well

I'm at the French Chalk face but here in England ...

A stranger in my own language...

 Language is a wonderful thing and talking with children can be so enlightening. They have no problem adapting to a different language, taking on a new challenge, its what they do every moment of every day.
As Federico Fellini said, 'A different language is a different vision of life' and the children I've met, in both France & the UK, really understand this. They realise that language changes things, challenges things, its exciting.

Back in England I find myself viewing a lack of motivation or interest in language...it's just there.People use their own tongue sloppily, randomly, almost without thought and the concept of experiencing another language is not considered. When does a challenge become a problem? Answer when you let it...when it grows out of proportion. Its as though the long wet English summer of 2012 has seeped into their very being. The populous looks grey with the lack of sun, and beaten down by economic times.

If,'Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow', Oliver Wendell Holme, then  it appears we lack that child like desire to grow. When our shoe size & height falter & stop, sometimes our minds stop growing also.

In England I suppose we still have humour, games with words & concepts, painting abstract  pictures with ordinary words. Recently my predictive text amusingly listed the names of two villages (in France & England)  as ' Careless Pistons' and my French closing phrase,'Amicalement' ,(in a friendly way) as 'Impalement'. Now that's a different mental picture than what I started with.

 William James once said,'Language is the most imperfect and expensive means yet discovered for communicating thought', and yesterday I understood just how imperfect that communication can be. The headlines in one of the UK Nationals read,'French invade British Waters' ; what  invasion think I? Property in both countries, love for both nations...racing thoughts. What tragedy could have occurred,what international incident had transpired. Well it seems that French fishermen have strayed into British scallop fishing grounds.

 

Now I know scallops are a prized delicacy and definitely this issue affects people's livelihood, but 'Invasion', now that's an emotive word. I wondered how many of my fellow Brits, on that supermarket car park,had either eaten these mollusc's or knew that Scallops and St Jacques are one and the same thing.

Now there is another irony, it was not St Jacques, but St James, who was accredited with links to the scallop trade. The classic scallop shell emblem has gone through many incarnations and at great personal, philosophical & business expense; from the pagan fertility symbol, to the emblem emblazoned on pilgrims cloaks and finally to oil & petroleum industry...so imperfect and so expensive!

And the final irony, when we consider language, the reason we Brits call these 'invading' sea creatures, 'scallops'....its from the old French word escalope, meaning 'a shell' or more latterly, 'a thin slice'.


 Now that is an invasion of language.

 

Food glorious food....Come dine with me,perhaps!

Culinary delight  & the French culture are, as we all know , intrinsically linked. Children, like their parents, take  food very seriously. 'Super U' shopping is not  like the 'Tesco' rush to fill the trolley & avoid the perpetual requests from the kids "can I have this mum?" For the French, its a measured and civilised occasion, with choices made & conversations entered into.

 At the check out, discussion & politeness are more important than the speed with which the customers are served and nobody in the queue, however long, objects.The time for customer conversation is important, packing undertaken carefully and finally then payment (sometimes by long winded cheque) and this must all be respected, it is  a meaningful event.

What other country, but France, would have  baby food called 'Artichoke Diner' or 'Ratatouille....'? Morrison's nearest  culinary  labels for  babies are, 'Grandpa's Sunday Lunch' or 'My 1st Bolognaise' , it just doesn't seem the same.  But the whole area of food, its purchase, its preparation and particularly its consumption are serious.  

Its a devotion, in which the cathedrals are the top restaurants, the religious orders are the 'Master Chef' programmes and the high priests the Michelin & Egon Ronay chefs .
We were recently invited by some French  farming friends for a meal. A typical French longere farmhouse which has been modernised to give a lovely ambiance, comfortable and contemporary. The meal was superb, the conversation wonderful, but our hosts made the highlight of the evening, a viewing, over cheese & desert, of the finale of 'Mastef Chef', on their huge plasma TV. People are passionate about food...

 No more obvious in the anglo / franco cultural differences towards eating is    the popular programme 'Come Dine with Me', known in France as 'Un Diner Preque Parfait', or 'An Almost Perfect Diner'.
Both countries market the programme as a competition for 4 or 5 amateur chefs to cook and entertain each other and be scored on their results, but the resultant programmes are worlds apart

In England the empathises seems to be on shock tactics before cuisine. One weeks' contestant comprised a host who insisted that "if people were stressed they can touch my breasts", whilst encouraging everyone to"get sloshed" she defended her brashness by the adage, "if you've got it flaunt it". Another  participant was a gnome collector who referred to his rival in the kitchen as a 'cocky young upstart'. When it comes to the food  the comparison is lost altogether. The English programme seems to loose all sight of this part of the enterprise, focusing on any arguments or sexy bits, food and its preparation are incidental to the evening.

In France guests have included Frederic Mitterrand, who is the nephew of the late Socialist President Francois Mitterrand and a close friend of ex-first Lady Carla Bruni. At the end of the week contestants are marked on cuisine, ambiance, table decor and the theme or animation of the evening.The French watch , sample comment intellectually and enjoy all aspects of the food. They never refuse to eat anything, never swig back their drinks or overindulge and leave politely, clearly having enjoyed the efforts their fellow contestants have made.

So if you want to define the social differences between the two nations, just watch these two programmes. Yes they do have the same prize money, 'One Thousand', but the French are short changes because they get euros where as the guys from the  UK pick their winnings up  in pounds.

Know where I'd rather 'dine'?? ...mais oui!

Bloggers block...

Seems I have bee suffering from 'Bloggers Block', a sort  of electronic writers cramp, brought about by an overload of English culture, as we have returned currently to the UK. Its as though my brain, tuned to seek the similarities and anomalies in French & Anglo culture / education, just couldn't cope with the onslaught of so much Englishness
So whats made the change, where has the breakthrough come? Well its about realising, much to my surprise, that I see things from a French perspective whilst in the UK in the opposite way to how I see the Anglo perspective in the French systems.
And what made the change well simple...bacon.

Pork is as popular in Franc as in the UK, but the concept of rashers of sizzling bacon, or bacon butties or bacon rolls with chicken is quite alien in  France. Slices are either way too thin, way too think or don't exist. And yet there before me in the  UKsupermarket is a dazzling array of bacon, loose or packaged, for cooking or frying, with or without rind, smoked or non smoked; even a choice of pig or region is possible. The only thing not on offer easily are lardons, the beloved  French diced bacon bits super for carbonnara or in stews or casseroles and much used by the French.

But perhaps the most telling of things bore no relation to any of the actual meat products but to  the impressive, new NHS hospital. Built like an airport, bright & airy with wide corridors and crisp lines it is the embodiment of all you'd hope for in any medical system and one the NHS should rightly be proud of. Computer greeting terminals allow the patient to book in and proceed, via a series of 'sub waits' to the correct area, so you always know where you are who you will see and what is happening. Brilliantly efficient, clear & makes the patient feel every things in hand, the medics are informed and you know what is happening.

So here is where the differences lie because as you log in, with aid from friendly assistants if necessary, you have to collect a booking ticket, affectionately referred to as your 'bacon counter ticket' as it resembles the sort issued to avoid queues or misunderstandings at supermarkets counters for fresh  meats or cheese.

 Now I just can't imagine the French liking this sort of labelling, even food related, they'd expect people & time to be given to them. Perhaps its about the population numbers and space / land area that the two countries have; France being low in population, mostly rural with some high concentrations and  a vast alnd area and England being a small island with high population. We can't and don't expect time to be given to us, the French I feel would expect an individuals attention, but I did notice that in that vast new building we all seemed strangely comforted being led by and clutching our, 'bacon tickets'

One cure for bloggers block..... bacon...

Inspiration and hard work

I continue with the work to link the children in the small village school in the Mayenne region  with a similar rural village school in Staffordshire, England. The French class now has twenty children from 8 to 11 years and caters for two adjoining villages.  The 'infant' class is in our neighbouring village & the juniors here. So this week has been further work on greetings, both formal & informal in English leading up to the writing of a simple letter to the children in England.




Though the class size here has more than doubled in the new intake this is not as positive as it sounds, because there are fewer & fewer younger children.  My friend Liz who actually introduced me to the school,has been working solidly, year on year with these children and now I can see just how much skill, confidence and pleasure in English she has given them.
 Not a teacher by profession, but a natural teacher with a passion for communication, Liz has given these new kids a real head start and didn't I notice it.


So this time when it came to the verbal games they were up for it and fully participated, it was delightful. And, later with  the more formal written stuff it was easier to differentiate the work and talk with the children about what they were writing.




Result, twenty short, but clear messages for me to forward onto the school teacher in Staffordshire, some basic self portraits (art work is seldom a strength here) and a really good feeling about what can be achieved.

And where my French faltered, Liz's son, one of the older boys in the class was there to be my bi-lingual aid and actively encouraged the elder children to support the younger ones and do so in spoken English.
 
Just goes to prove what one persons passion can do to influence & develop a child's learning. So this is one big thank you to Liz, she'll never know quite what an inspiration she has been......