Something different....Fresnay Grange

My submission to a local Franco Anglo newspaper: What makes your house unique in 250 words

Fresnay Grange French & Family History:

It started with a small child and an old man.

“Tell me again Gramp”; the story of a pink granite farmhouse in the hollow and a pretty young lady called Irene. A young dispatch rider, missing in action and sheltered, he fell in love. The girl knew every detail the buildings, the kitchen, its range, the pewter jugs and brass candlesticks

Then came Le Fresnay a pink granite farm and barn & the girl remembered. The old barn was the original house; there was the hearth and the chimney space, the low walls of the first thatch, it all fitted.

So began our renovation of Fresnay Grange and every step was one history. All the work respecting the builders of 300 years ago and  the detail honouring the stewardship. The mantle had those candles & jugs via vide greniers, the stairs of local oak and the hearth stones relaid again.  There is a spirit to our house, we call him Pierre and imagine him as an old  French farmer. There’s no ghost it’s the spirit of the very stones, the privilege of rediscovering , reinhabiting & those stories from long ago.

And it’s a homage to the story of that old man, who never forgot that French family and later named his daughter, Irene, after the girl he had met. That daughter named me, an old French name, Pauline.

My Grandfather can’t tell me the stories now, but as I look across the farmyard, history lives and I smile.

The House of the Three Bears

After several weeks of teaching 'English Fairy Stories' and much fun, my final lesson of the summer term was based on the story of, Goldilocks & The Three Bears'.

A simple story at first thought, it would seem. A more complex one, linguistically as ; 'eating, sitting, sleeping, more than, bigger, smaller, who has' are all concepts requiring comprehension. Then finally, there is the social dimension of a young girl lost in the forest, breaking into a house, causing wilful damage and finally falling asleep in a strangers bed...now that's all a little bizarre.

Ok visual props i.e. 3 bears, class chanting, a story peg line and even a little drama...I finally got the story going. But you're never certain that the children have fully grasped the language or if you've totally developed all the spoken opportunities. But this time I got an unexpected check; a living recount of a lesson well learned.

You see on the last day of the school year, in our small village, the children all walk the boundaries. Akin to the old English ways of walking the parish boundaries, these lively 7 to 10 year olds walk the 'bourg' boundaries. They follow the traditional footpaths around the locality bordering the two villages which feed into the small school.

Knowing this was happening and ,that their walk would go up the 'randonnee' beside our land, and directly in front of our house, I decided on a small surprise. I made a name plate for the farmhouse, 'The Cottage of the Three Bears' and sat said , three bears, proudly outside to await the children's arrival.

Their response to such a small action was wonderful, squeals of surprise and a torrent  of English; phrases, words and sentences. This was a lessen review like no other. Better than any Ofsted comment or peer assessed note. If I'd had any doubts as to their understanding it was vanquished by their vocal outpouring. Munching away on their 'bear sweets' (Gummy Bears) and clasping the small gifts (Winnie the Pooh notepads of course), they left in a hail of, "Goodbye Madame, see you next year".

It seems that this story, like all of its genre, had its own  happy ending. This time I was the, 'Goldilocks' and their English language skills, will live, 'happily ever after'.

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity and Pigs

Not been back to France since January and have had three weeks of catching up with jobs, entertaining Art Guests and enjoying the easy pace and ambience of French living.

But there comes a point at which you realise you have to start upping the  pace and get back to contributing to the village and, the way I do that best is through my weekly teaching visits to the local primary school. Its only an hour a week, but I like to do the very best I can and fit in with the school day and curriculum.

Hence I sent an e mail to Madame the maitresse telling her the dates that I could attend and asking what topic she wanted me to cover. Now I have to explain that this is not a joint lesson, no team teaching or shared planning, she simply takes my copy of the lesson plan and gets on with her paper work, only contributing if I ask something specific. Her written reactions are much like her verbal ones so I was not surprised when the initial email reply was somewhat curt. Apparently the timetable has changed and they now go swimming on Tuesdays, which was my previous allotted day. Fair enough I'll do  Mondays same time I thought? Second e mail response, no that time clashes with dance! OK give me a day & time and what topic you want me to cover till June.

Now that's when the real trouble started, because she asked for 'histoire anglaise' plus pronunciation & comprehension of simple texts. Wow I thought, there's only four Mondays left this month, one of which is a national holiday and she wants me to teach the entire English History to 7~11 year olds in three hours. My mind was racing; what were the key points, I must do justice to our complex history, how can I put all that into simple text? I spent a  night considering how and which of the stories of Boudica, Roman Britain,the Magna Carta, Religion & Empire, the Industrial Revolution or two World Wars (to name but a few) I could compress into an understandable text for 'les eleves'. Ignoring the comments of my husband  to, start with Agincourt and explain how certain parts of France really belonged to the English throne, I finally came to the conclusion the task was impossible in the timescale allotted. So I e mailed again & explained that the topic of English History was 'enorme' and suggesting I could do something about the different countries within the UK and the regions.

She replied the next day that she understood and could I teach,  'd'une histoire d'un livre' . Now here's where my second mistake was made. Now 'livre can mean book or pound (as in weight or old currency) so I took her to mean she wanted  either a potted history of currency or worse still a three week topic around key literary books in English history? ! A spent a night scouring my brain to decide which were the key authors of our magnificent literary history, or how much I knew about the history of our currency. Dreams with Shakespeare and Dickens arguing about coinage or weights & measures followed, leaving  me even more confused.Finally, the next morning , a further mail arrived giving me times and clarifying what she really meant.

In French there are what teachers of this fine language call ' faux friends', these  are words in two or more  languages, that look or sound similar, but differ significantly in meaning. For example, in English you go to a library to borrow books, but  in French a 'Librairie' is a bookshop. Similarly,'L'hotel de Ville', does not accommodate passing tourists wanting a bed for the night but is the municipal town hall. Most extreme of these faux friends is 'gymnasium; which refers to 'a place of education' in German and 'a place for physical education' in English, where as in its Greek origin it meant 'a place for naked exercise'...not to be confused. And 'livre' in French can mean book, pound (weight) or pound( money)

So my 'histoire' and 'livre' were faux friends, she neither wanted me to teach English history or the history of books or money, but children's stories and for them to read & understand simple texts. Clarified and relieved I acknowledged her e mail and agreed the dates.All this before I even set foot in 'l'ecole'.

How to move from 'Magna Carta' to 'Three Little Pigs' in one sentence, well I suppose it all the same really ; all about power, corruption, security for everyday people and words.

What was it my husband said once about this wonderful language? "I think French is like half empty boxes but you never sure what's  in them"...well mine were definitely half empty!

Bretegne v Brittany.... Keep learning

I write two very different blogs; this one, 'French Chalk',  about my experiences in France, in particular in relation to teaching & education, and the other ' The Grey Jigsaw', about my personal journey through & with cancer.

These are quite disparate blogs, but just once in a while the two overlap and what occurs in one is relevant and applies in the other. And his occurred this week on a visit to one of my cousins and his wife, who now live permanently in Brittany, France.

Now to explain I have to give you some background, if you like set the scene. This cousin is one of two brothers, who I am close to from my home town of Gosport in Hampshire and both brothers now own property in Brittany. Starting with a big renovation job of a country cottage over years and now a further renovation of a village town house. They have worked together, played together and holidayed together and in 2015 the eldest one decided to settle permanently in France.

Now this is a big move for anyone, with the arrangements, the legal stuff, the systems, the language and the culture, but for my cousin  and his wife this was an even bigger step as he is diagnosed with Parkinson's and she has longstanding health problems.

We arrived for our stay excited but unsure how they would be coping, its a tall order to take such a big step and challenge yourself, but what an amazing thing they have done. The house is a delight and made so homely, the plans are afoot for work and they are slowly but surely getting embedded in the local community; learning French and joining groups, it great to see!

We visited the area and its delights; had coffee in it village bars, ate in a local restaurant and puzzled at the signs written dually  in French & Breton. We had three days of pleasure in a very different part of France, a real holiday on holiday, it was lovely.

So what has this to do with education or cancer, well its all about determination and  belief. They have not sat back and thought , 'we can't do anything', ' we have to just put up with what life has dealt', no they are up and fighting. Its not easy, but they are taking on a new life and moving forward, brilliant. They are not accepting the limitations, they are seeking solutions and adapting to a new way of being.

Children learn & accept they won't get it all right, but keep trying. They immerse themselves in what needs to be done, seek solutions and eagerly engage in change. There is a fundamental conflict underlying learning; starting with not understanding and driven by and desire to comprehend, to reach stasis. The old adage that, 'conflict causes change'' is the leading reason we are motivated to learn or retract from learning. We are curious, want to conform, mature  or understand, solve a problem or feel an emotion, but all too often we let this drive stall and seek to withdraw. The young of all kinds are  endlessly drawn on, continually curious and want to grow, they are hard wired to learn.

So how great to see my cousin and his wife, despite all the problems and strains choosing to grow, to step out and question the world, make a new life, progress.
What's that other adage, oh yes........If you are not moving forward you are going backwards. And as my cousin said, "Its not me , its everyone else that's moving". Never too late to learn, we've just re-met a couple who are living proof of this.They say,'you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends', and we are proud to call my Brittany cousins both.
Merci mes amis

L'annee dernier, rabbit in the headlights

 Every Tuesday that I in France I attend, as some of you will know,  the local primary school, to teach English. Its what started me on this blog and its what continues to motivate many of the ideas & observations about our life in France, deep in the Loire countryside.

You see, as those of you who are teachers will know,  having an audience of eager, interested, but unforgiving students, be they five years or twenty five, is a sure way to enhance your own learning. The old adage that, 'if you want to learn something well, try teaching it', may sound odd , but is a real truism; nothing puts you more on your metal than the prospect of having to explain it in detail to somebody else. This is  especially so, when that somebody has the enquiring mind of a student, particularly a primary age student!

Children do not necessarily have the social niceties to go along with what you are saying, they ask the awkward  question and have a lack self consciousness. Both singly and collectively they, like water, seek out the flaws. This is not to say I think 'les elves' are scheming to undermine my lesson, it is just their natural state; they are in a learning environment all day, questioning, willing to make mistakes, self driven to understand and they don't take 'prisoners'.

 So nearly six year on from my initial uncertain visit to the school I was in again this week; teaching to the topic of 'The Human Body'. Now this could be a perilous area if I were back teaching in the Secondary sector, open to all sorts of anxieties and, even at the simplest level, could evoke a potential mine field of 'awkward or embarrassing' questions. But in that small rural classroom it was a delight, the children were interested, the subject visually engaging and all became  engrossed in the activities. From word matching & action games and worksheets to illustration I seemed to have geared the lesson right. My French explanations, my English questions all seemed to go down well.

Great I thought maybe I'm actually cracking this language, adapting my teaching and understanding the cultural nuances? I'd got through my hour and a half, the children seemed to have absorbed the key words & were prepared to verbalise in  English, so I packed up my things and prepared to go.

Now my years ago after my first basic French course, having travelled through the country over years, I finally felt I was getting a handle on things...its always when things go wrong. On a campsite somewhere near Calais, feeling quietly confident in my day to day French, I was greeted by an elderly lady commenting on the weather; "Il faire beau?" she said ( it becomes sunny). I panicked, what do I answer, is there a set reply. So what did I answer? What did my linguistic brain come up with. "Trois", yes like a rabbit in the headlights I froze and for some unaccountable reason said  the number 'three'! Since that day I have always been aware that just sometimes, for some unaccountable reason my 'French Brain' is quite likely to just malfunction.

And what happened at the end of my successful English lesson, just when I was feeling quietly confident? Well, I meant to say " a la semaine prochaine" ( See you next week), but what came out was " l'annee derniere" ( last year)! Both the maitresse and the children suddenly looked at me, quizzical, ' what does she mean? Is she telling us something?" . No just rabbit in the headlights syndrome!

What is it they say, 'pride comes before a fall', well all I can say is, "Tois"...Oh bugger!

Whats in a phrase...tellement!

Strikes me people come out with the funniest things when you least expect them. Sometimes they're known sayings, like this summer when a friend staying with us announced that, on her journey through France, she was, "So hungry I could eat the leg of the lamb of God". Or sometimes they're impromptu, as later in the holiday and out walking the beautiful Colmont river, she was desperate to use the loo. On spying a workers Portaloo nearby, she quipped, "Well any port a loo in a storm will do" and quickly disappeared inside.

There's a natural humour in some phrases, indeed some people and some regions/ cities are known for their hard humour, probably borne out of hard times. Hence my husband, a good Stoke on Trent Lad, from a family known for its witticism and sharp phrases announced that he had," no spell check on his mouth". And was heard to announce to a neighbour that, "me plums are ripening" (plenty of euphemism there) and then ask, "Is your fosse backing up"...oh er missus, sounds like an old 'Carry On' film.
  
In France we share some  phrasal commonalities that have been adopted by the English language. We assert, 'c'est la vie', use an ' aide memoire' and carry an 'attaché' case' with a certain 'je ne sis quoi'. So it seems strange when we hear them in their original tongue, with their correct pronunciation. At a recent soiree for a group of French friends I was amused to hear myself sounding like the fictional detective Hercule Poirot when I exclaimed 'Exactement' and curious to realise how many words had links with what I already knew, both in learnt , absorbed or fictional French.

Similarly our well known phrases sometimes have Gaelic equivalents like 'bien dans sa peu' ,which I learnt was to be at ease in ones own skin and 'petit poisson deviendra grand', a different and fishy take on 'from little oaks mighty acorns grow'. Yes I still struggle with the grammar, stumble over the conjugation of the verbs, but I now feel more at ease in the language, happier in the communication and loving the challenge despite  the confusions.

But then as Graham Robb recounts in his book ' The Discovery of France' 2007, relating to Bretons within living memory trying to learn French,
" The French language is a language whose words were like half empty boxes and you're not even quite what's in them" ,,,,je adore!

To teach or not to teach...

There's nothing like the need to complete a task, to  trigger an avoidance response, the more urgent the task the greater the response. You suddenly feel motivated to do something else. With my mother it was always cleaning windows, a tactic to avoid social issues or conflict. With me today, its the fact that I should be planning my lesson for tomorrow, suddenly my blog, which has been ignored of late,  becomes  extremely urgent so here I am.

Christmas gone and New Year over we are now back in France and tomorrow I'm due to go into the little village school and teach for an hour. Now its no big deal; I have no curriculum to follow, no targets to meet, no long term planning or grades to make, I'm not paid to do it, a French Ofsted equivalent is not about to turn up and the children are a real delight. Its about that four letter word & its meaning  'Work'!

If I was just helping out, just an aid or  language assistant life would be easier, but as a professional teacher you can't do anything by halves. It must be linked with past learning, develop new vocabulary, incorporate over learning, be differentiated by age & abilities within the class. My goals have to be SMART: specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and timed  and I must evaluate and review. I suppose its only like a solicitor or accountant, a doctor or a professional athlete, it cant be done casually.

Years back, as a student in Liverpool, I shared a house with a woman who was an ex Olympic swimmer and innocently asked if shed like to come to the local pool with me. She agreed and on arrival proceeded to plough up & down the pool at alarming speed & with considerable aggression. I stopped her & suggested we might sit on the pool side for a bit, or dive for a weight or simply hang in the water & chat; as I saw it a fun even social element to the swimming. She looked at me bewildered, "I hit the water every morning a 6am for years, to train for two hours and then again after school, I can't play with it".

Problem is everyone thinks they could be a teacher, we've all been to school, we all know its about being in charge and telling them what to do. That's instruction and has its place; apprenticeship, skills, task led activities but a teacher, has to be aware of the bigger picture & the individual needs, they have to communicate and draw that something special out of the students. Some people have that naturally, its in their psyche/ their very bones and just like that  swimmer they can't play at it.

 So here I am full circle, doing what I love doing it but its work. Then I remember what a good friend and ex colleague once said to me. As a Educational Psychologist she heard me procrastinating & bemoaning my  avoidance strategies and stopped me. "Its not avoidance she stated, its displacement therapy". So there you have it, I have a therapy...I feel a lot better. And just incidentally, I have a new blog,  this one, which your just read.
Enough said Pauline 'Do the lesson plan!"