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!
Thursday, January 14, 2016
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!
Monday, January 4, 2016
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!"
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!"
Friday, September 18, 2015
Maybe it's just maybe, peut etre....with thanks to Jessica
I woke this morning, after a long night, feeling fortified linguistically and ready to write.
Maybe its something about the fact that I should now be in France & my French cerebellum has been called into action. Maybe its a message from my ex & much rated French teacher, praising my writing on this blog. But whatever it is I've been dreaming in French and words are tumbling in my brain; questions and curiosity, so here I am.
As a child I was taken with one of the Beano, comic cartoon strips, called the Numskulls, about a team of tiny human like technicians live inside peoples heads, running and maintaining their bodies & minds. This concept has stayed with me & I often revisit it when considering my response to modern foreign language, in particular my beloved French.
I imagine those little creatures rushing round the filing system trying to find word equivalences or reorder the tenses. Opening half forgotten or newly filed drawers and seeking communication. Maybe Ive always been fascinated by words & communication, because whenever I use this example people look sympathetic but a little confused by this childhood analogy. Whether they don't remember, think its something of childhood or simply don't relate to it I usually get the same look. "Bear with her, she must have a serious point & the point is" the look says. Well maybe that's just it you have to have that interest in words, that fascination with communication to get it.
Wordsmiths, of which I wish I was one, have a compulsion to create, to express & to understand, which is why the very best of them hold us transfixed, rapt in the story, ferried away to another land of imagination and inner experience. Even with the marvels of cinema and computer graphics & all actors skills, direction, photography & tricks , it is generally the inner pictures which is what we run when we hear a book title or read a play review. From Alice in Wonderland & Wind in the Willows to The BFG and The Hobbit, its those early mental images that first come to mind. They may be superseded by the amazing coloured cinema graphic images, but we each have our first and unique internal magic show that shapes our understanding & ever influences our thinking.
Have you ever read a book & uncertain of the pronunciation of a characters name, just skimmed over it, you know who or what they are? Its only when someone else says the name differently do you think, oh right well, no problem, the gist of the text is in the writing, the meaning, the pictures, name pronunciation almost an irrelevance. Well maybe its like that with the Hollywood interpretations; sometimes they enhance the internal cinema show and other times they just get filed under 'alternative views'. The very best, like their writers. are so accurate, so spectacular, that what is projected is almost raw, straight from the imagination of that writer.
That's why I don't get book reviews, critics or book clubs. That's why I don't feel the need to untangle questions in a group,like some extended A level project or read to a schedule. Why to I don't want or need to be told what to read or what is good in my reading, what not to watch, what not to participate in. I know some people want to be abreast of the times, know the latest novel by certain authors, have seen the latest play or film and have an after dinner sound bite phrase, but they obviously never read the Beano.
The question is what would the Numskulls have done? We have to filter, interpret and communicate with ourselves to understand. It may not be the best, or accepted or deepest understanding but its ours.
So early this morning, body screaming for sleep, my internal word filtering was up & running; what's the meaning of this in French, why phrase it like that. Sometimes I just wish they'd give it a rest stop endlessly seeking, solving enquiring, but do I really. Maybe that was why I studied psychology BEd, looking for Numskulls, seeking answers. Who knows but those childhood wanderings have never left and I hope the never do.
And the point of this? Where's the Frenchness? Where's the story? Well its all in a word or maybe a phrase.
My French teacher, a skilled wordsmith and communicator, wrote about 'on verra' (we will see) in her latest piece. A new phrase to me I looked it up and considered how I might apply it & my dictionary made a clear distinction between' we will see' and ' 'We'll see' ...nous verrons or on verra. Now the point here is not is which is correct or applicable or even usual its about communicable. So do I instruct the boffins in my brain to research & store academically or simply consider and move on? As a child if I asked if we could do something or when something would happen or what if, the common adult response was 'we'll see, perhaps'. A point of great frustration, because it usually meant no, but held no certainty and because internally the Numskulls said, "What? Now where does that answer go".
So in my early morning mental ramblings my inner child came to the fore ,the generality, the communication, the understanding that's what's important with words. After all, as Wordsworth put it, ' The Child is the Father of the Man' and he was some wordsmith.
Now let me guess what's in your head now, don't tell me daffodils, peut etre? Well now it is , 'on verra'!
Maybe its something about the fact that I should now be in France & my French cerebellum has been called into action. Maybe its a message from my ex & much rated French teacher, praising my writing on this blog. But whatever it is I've been dreaming in French and words are tumbling in my brain; questions and curiosity, so here I am.
As a child I was taken with one of the Beano, comic cartoon strips, called the Numskulls, about a team of tiny human like technicians live inside peoples heads, running and maintaining their bodies & minds. This concept has stayed with me & I often revisit it when considering my response to modern foreign language, in particular my beloved French.
I imagine those little creatures rushing round the filing system trying to find word equivalences or reorder the tenses. Opening half forgotten or newly filed drawers and seeking communication. Maybe Ive always been fascinated by words & communication, because whenever I use this example people look sympathetic but a little confused by this childhood analogy. Whether they don't remember, think its something of childhood or simply don't relate to it I usually get the same look. "Bear with her, she must have a serious point & the point is" the look says. Well maybe that's just it you have to have that interest in words, that fascination with communication to get it.
Wordsmiths, of which I wish I was one, have a compulsion to create, to express & to understand, which is why the very best of them hold us transfixed, rapt in the story, ferried away to another land of imagination and inner experience. Even with the marvels of cinema and computer graphics & all actors skills, direction, photography & tricks , it is generally the inner pictures which is what we run when we hear a book title or read a play review. From Alice in Wonderland & Wind in the Willows to The BFG and The Hobbit, its those early mental images that first come to mind. They may be superseded by the amazing coloured cinema graphic images, but we each have our first and unique internal magic show that shapes our understanding & ever influences our thinking.
Have you ever read a book & uncertain of the pronunciation of a characters name, just skimmed over it, you know who or what they are? Its only when someone else says the name differently do you think, oh right well, no problem, the gist of the text is in the writing, the meaning, the pictures, name pronunciation almost an irrelevance. Well maybe its like that with the Hollywood interpretations; sometimes they enhance the internal cinema show and other times they just get filed under 'alternative views'. The very best, like their writers. are so accurate, so spectacular, that what is projected is almost raw, straight from the imagination of that writer.
That's why I don't get book reviews, critics or book clubs. That's why I don't feel the need to untangle questions in a group,like some extended A level project or read to a schedule. Why to I don't want or need to be told what to read or what is good in my reading, what not to watch, what not to participate in. I know some people want to be abreast of the times, know the latest novel by certain authors, have seen the latest play or film and have an after dinner sound bite phrase, but they obviously never read the Beano.
The question is what would the Numskulls have done? We have to filter, interpret and communicate with ourselves to understand. It may not be the best, or accepted or deepest understanding but its ours.
So early this morning, body screaming for sleep, my internal word filtering was up & running; what's the meaning of this in French, why phrase it like that. Sometimes I just wish they'd give it a rest stop endlessly seeking, solving enquiring, but do I really. Maybe that was why I studied psychology BEd, looking for Numskulls, seeking answers. Who knows but those childhood wanderings have never left and I hope the never do.
And the point of this? Where's the Frenchness? Where's the story? Well its all in a word or maybe a phrase.
My French teacher, a skilled wordsmith and communicator, wrote about 'on verra' (we will see) in her latest piece. A new phrase to me I looked it up and considered how I might apply it & my dictionary made a clear distinction between' we will see' and ' 'We'll see' ...nous verrons or on verra. Now the point here is not is which is correct or applicable or even usual its about communicable. So do I instruct the boffins in my brain to research & store academically or simply consider and move on? As a child if I asked if we could do something or when something would happen or what if, the common adult response was 'we'll see, perhaps'. A point of great frustration, because it usually meant no, but held no certainty and because internally the Numskulls said, "What? Now where does that answer go".
So in my early morning mental ramblings my inner child came to the fore ,the generality, the communication, the understanding that's what's important with words. After all, as Wordsworth put it, ' The Child is the Father of the Man' and he was some wordsmith.
Now let me guess what's in your head now, don't tell me daffodils, peut etre? Well now it is , 'on verra'!
Sunday, August 23, 2015
The Englishman, the Frenchman and the Maire...
They say that language is 50% formal learning, 50% application and 100% communication. Well I experienced that recently at a meal at the house of some French friends in the village.
An Anglo/Franco mixture of some fifteen people, part family, part neighbours and part friends, we arrived greeting each other in a mixture of tongues and accents. From the patois of the Mayenne and broad Scotts, to the softer Loire tones and the open vowels of middle England, and, amongst our midst, the marie of the village and his wife.
Between us we had a variety of linguistic skills, from the truly bi-linguist (well actually multi linguist) to a mixture of language knowledge, learnt or acquired in our own respective journeys through life. And, just as with international flights or voyages, whose timetables are set to the country of arrival /departure, our default language was French. We ate some excellent cuisine, drank some wonderful wines and all relaxed into that happy ambience, which is generated by good folk having a good time.
After many stories, jokes and bilingual exchanges, over many courses and several changes of wine, it was decided that we should all play Scrabble. Two mixed nationality teams were set up & two scrabble sets appeared as if by magic. This was to be a bilingual game. Either language to be used, with the nationals of that language being the judge of the accuracy of the language & words in question.
Not a great lover of games and particularly word games, my husband quickly realised that he had no option, but to participate, if international relations were to remain intact. Everyone busied around, moving chairs, mixing nationalities and charging glasses until the scene was set. At this point the marie declared 'political immunity', stating that it was a politically strategic game and hence in order to be neutral he had to opt out. Strange as he was the only political person in the room and even stranger when he then proceeded to move between the two games; advising, studying, tutting and nodding in equal measures.
Its a curious mental experience trying to put together random letters to match your visual memory from two different languages; your brain goes into a strange overload. The letters 'z,y,v' were more usable in French and high scorers plus, 'au, ou , et', could all fill in those awkward gaps.
It was a great night; I learnt a lot of new words (not all repeatable) and developed new thinking skills. But above all I learnt the power of 'entente cordiale' and diplomacy. Our walking lexicon of a village marie, with his political manoeuvrings between the two teams, stole the day...he was the star.
Oh and how did my long complaining, 'I don't do games' husband fair?
Well he won hands down in both languages!
" C'est incroyable!"...
An Anglo/Franco mixture of some fifteen people, part family, part neighbours and part friends, we arrived greeting each other in a mixture of tongues and accents. From the patois of the Mayenne and broad Scotts, to the softer Loire tones and the open vowels of middle England, and, amongst our midst, the marie of the village and his wife.
Between us we had a variety of linguistic skills, from the truly bi-linguist (well actually multi linguist) to a mixture of language knowledge, learnt or acquired in our own respective journeys through life. And, just as with international flights or voyages, whose timetables are set to the country of arrival /departure, our default language was French. We ate some excellent cuisine, drank some wonderful wines and all relaxed into that happy ambience, which is generated by good folk having a good time.
We had first met our French hosts some years ago at a local village fete, where we had shared a communal meal, of vast meat proportions, all washed down by good red wine or local cidre. The husband spoke English & wanted to practise so it was agreed that he'd speak English & myself French. I was struck by how similar in looks one of his daughters was to him and tried to express this, "votre fille vous resemble/la fille et pere avoir le meme visage". Clumsy, but effective I thought , but not fully understood so the daughter was asked to help translate. "They have the same face", I asserted. "Face?", replied the daughter, at which point the mother burst out laughing. It seems that the word,'face' in English, sounds to the French ear like 'fesses', which is buttocks or bum! So here was I boldly asserting that father & daughter had a derriere resemblance.
Needless to say & thankfully, this linguistic faux pas was the beginning of a friendship and here we were again sharing good food & communication.After many stories, jokes and bilingual exchanges, over many courses and several changes of wine, it was decided that we should all play Scrabble. Two mixed nationality teams were set up & two scrabble sets appeared as if by magic. This was to be a bilingual game. Either language to be used, with the nationals of that language being the judge of the accuracy of the language & words in question.
Not a great lover of games and particularly word games, my husband quickly realised that he had no option, but to participate, if international relations were to remain intact. Everyone busied around, moving chairs, mixing nationalities and charging glasses until the scene was set. At this point the marie declared 'political immunity', stating that it was a politically strategic game and hence in order to be neutral he had to opt out. Strange as he was the only political person in the room and even stranger when he then proceeded to move between the two games; advising, studying, tutting and nodding in equal measures.
Its a curious mental experience trying to put together random letters to match your visual memory from two different languages; your brain goes into a strange overload. The letters 'z,y,v' were more usable in French and high scorers plus, 'au, ou , et', could all fill in those awkward gaps.It was a great night; I learnt a lot of new words (not all repeatable) and developed new thinking skills. But above all I learnt the power of 'entente cordiale' and diplomacy. Our walking lexicon of a village marie, with his political manoeuvrings between the two teams, stole the day...he was the star.
Oh and how did my long complaining, 'I don't do games' husband fair?
Well he won hands down in both languages!
" C'est incroyable!"...
Saturday, June 13, 2015
French pragmatism...oh la la
Well I've sampled the very adequate French health care system yet again. Reluctant though I was to step into the medical quagmire I had to do so as the pain in my side did not go.
In short, within five days all was checked, solution found & on the road to recovery. Cost in euros, just over two hundred, cost in peace of mind & ability to sleep comfortably, beyond price.
In short, within five days all was checked, solution found & on the road to recovery. Cost in euros, just over two hundred, cost in peace of mind & ability to sleep comfortably, beyond price.
As always the differences in the two systems (UK & France) intrigue & amuse and added to my continuing medical saga. First was the fact that you must always acknowledge social niceties even when in pain or fear, so you must greet appropriately, give due time for deliberation(at least twice the time you'd expect for a doctor to take in the UK) and show no response & certainly no humour in the face of the gravity of the procedure. Secondly you must always be aware of the French preoccupation with fine food and all things relating to the eating etiquette & process. Its not simply, 'don't eat from midnight before the scan', its suggestions for light 'dinner' and a repeated emphasis to take ' a little bread, a little cheese~ a petit morsel in the car in order to sustain yourself between the clinic & home.
Then the clinic itself, the exterior resembled a small house with tubs of bright flowers situated on what appears to be a suburban road; bungalows & houses, people trimming hedges & walking dogs. Inside a state of the art medical facility run with military precision and polite efficiency. But then there's the pretty seating areas with tasteful art work & fake greenery and all the patients have to greet each other 'Bonjour Monsieur/ Dame',cant let the social niceties slip.
So I finally get to the ultra scanning & x ray part, the working area of the clinic and everything is done very precisely, though all a little surprisingly. Now usually in such circumstances the NHS provide a back fastening unflattering coverall robe & cover most of the not needed parts like legs or upper torso with sheets or blankets. So I was curious to see what the French would do; fashionable over garments,'haute couture'? No, simply strip off ! I asked for clarification, in case my language skills had let me down but no, take off all your clothes & lie on the bench, the doctor will arrive soon.
So I finally get to the ultra scanning & x ray part, the working area of the clinic and everything is done very precisely, though all a little surprisingly. Now usually in such circumstances the NHS provide a back fastening unflattering coverall robe & cover most of the not needed parts like legs or upper torso with sheets or blankets. So I was curious to see what the French would do; fashionable over garments,'haute couture'? No, simply strip off ! I asked for clarification, in case my language skills had let me down but no, take off all your clothes & lie on the bench, the doctor will arrive soon.
I've always criticised the prudishness of the English system which insists on covering every possible unnecessary inch. Even at the point of imminently giving birth, having rushed into the cottage hospital, I was asked in the UK to "neatly fold my clothes & put my legs into the green cotton covers", the phrase 'bugger off' was shortly overtaken by the later stages of labour contractions. But in France, here I was no robe, nor sheet to hide my modesty, feeling somewhat vulnerable awaiting the doctor.
And when he arrived, looking like a lab technician, white coat, high buttoned and jeans, I was questioned about my medical history for some five or more minutes, all the time stark naked lain on this bench, bizarre! Then came the internal examination, now to not go into too much detail in England the apparatus is covered in what resembles a plastic bag, not so in France; obvious really a 'French Letter' and a choice of colours! pragmatism
So what has this to do with a small French school? Well everything, because this necessity for social politeness & courtesy, but also the down to earth pragmatism is key to how the system works. The children are expected to always be polite & show good manners, but the practicalities of life are to be used & not hampered by health & safety or big business greed.
In my professional life I was always aware of the security of schools; the access to buildings, the codes for classrooms or offices, everything secured down, the educational world on high alert. But here in rural France life has more trust & there are practical necessities, hence the small school room opens up, from a door with no security lock onto a playground with no codes or buzzers.
Children play peacefully, not hampered with fears of the outside world. True we need to raise children in a safe environment & teach them to be aware of danger, but we don't need to stifle their existence in that world & make it a fearful place.
So every Monday morning I rattle open the rusty bolt, cross the rough pot holed yard and open the classroom door. I enter their world as a trusted adult and bring to it, I hope, a little of the world of language and the magic of learning.
So what has this to do with a small French school? Well everything, because this necessity for social politeness & courtesy, but also the down to earth pragmatism is key to how the system works. The children are expected to always be polite & show good manners, but the practicalities of life are to be used & not hampered by health & safety or big business greed.
In my professional life I was always aware of the security of schools; the access to buildings, the codes for classrooms or offices, everything secured down, the educational world on high alert. But here in rural France life has more trust & there are practical necessities, hence the small school room opens up, from a door with no security lock onto a playground with no codes or buzzers.Children play peacefully, not hampered with fears of the outside world. True we need to raise children in a safe environment & teach them to be aware of danger, but we don't need to stifle their existence in that world & make it a fearful place.
So every Monday morning I rattle open the rusty bolt, cross the rough pot holed yard and open the classroom door. I enter their world as a trusted adult and bring to it, I hope, a little of the world of language and the magic of learning.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Nuances and nods
Language is a complex combination of written, read, heard & spoken structures. To be fluent you need to, 'be able to express one]
yourself easily and articulately', ' to speak or write language easily & accurately'; but the key is in the word 'fluent' itself; from the Latin 'fluere', fluency should be flowing & smooth.
Getting that flow, is bigger than the nuances of the individual components of a language, greater than just the structure, the spelling, grammar or pronunciation. Its primarily about its communication and for that you need empathy.
You can know all the words, have a grasp of the grammar and understand the written & read text, but without empathy for that language & its culture, your communication will not ' flow'.
One of the best examples of this is in the use of body language which communicates the meaning, not just directly, but also indicates you have a knowledge beyond the actual words.
Travelling in India some years ago the men in the group became fascinated with the head actions of Indian males towards them. In the male world misinterpreting body language is potentially a dangerous activity and, if not read correctly, can end up in a fight. Described as drawing a figure of eight whilst your head is suspended from a fixed point, each guy in the group was intent to master this, so as to fit the cultural norm & stay safe. Turns out it is done increasingly when the person is anxious or nervous, but a lack of this action shows a lack of understanding on the part of the listener.
So it was a few years ago in rural France when there was a minor dispute about who was entitled to put animals on our land. Based on confusion between the local farmer and a French horse breeder, both of whom believed they could put their respective animals on our land, my husband Ron set about resolving this potential dispute. It was not an insolvable problem, but in dialect French and French body language, not easy.
It went like this:
It turns out that they simply agreed to share the land & put both cows & horse on the land. It wasn't a problem, but it wasn't just the words that communicated the interaction it was the actions and it only flowed in French.
People often refer to the Gaelic shrug but like all languages there are so many degrees of any one action & so many possible actions, your fluency depends on your imitative skills.
I found this out recently, because I am very good at mimicking facial & body actions, I don't think about it I just find myself doing them & have become quite proficient in female French body language. Problem is my actual spoken language does not always match my non verbal communication, so fellow conversationalists will often assume I know much more than I do & talk even faster, assuming complete comprehension. Suddenly the conversation came to a question, there was a silence, all eyes turned to me! I shrugged as best I could and uttered the cover all local phrase, 'bah non', it seemed to work, but I was left only half sure what I'd disagreed with.
You need all the aspects of communication to be fluent. Unfortunately in my case recently I was more, 'going with the flow' than 'flowing'.Still, as the advert advises, 'Every little helps' and I do love France!
'bah oui...exactement...bah oui'
yourself easily and articulately', ' to speak or write language easily & accurately'; but the key is in the word 'fluent' itself; from the Latin 'fluere', fluency should be flowing & smooth.
Getting that flow, is bigger than the nuances of the individual components of a language, greater than just the structure, the spelling, grammar or pronunciation. Its primarily about its communication and for that you need empathy.
You can know all the words, have a grasp of the grammar and understand the written & read text, but without empathy for that language & its culture, your communication will not ' flow'.
One of the best examples of this is in the use of body language which communicates the meaning, not just directly, but also indicates you have a knowledge beyond the actual words.
Travelling in India some years ago the men in the group became fascinated with the head actions of Indian males towards them. In the male world misinterpreting body language is potentially a dangerous activity and, if not read correctly, can end up in a fight. Described as drawing a figure of eight whilst your head is suspended from a fixed point, each guy in the group was intent to master this, so as to fit the cultural norm & stay safe. Turns out it is done increasingly when the person is anxious or nervous, but a lack of this action shows a lack of understanding on the part of the listener.
So it was a few years ago in rural France when there was a minor dispute about who was entitled to put animals on our land. Based on confusion between the local farmer and a French horse breeder, both of whom believed they could put their respective animals on our land, my husband Ron set about resolving this potential dispute. It was not an insolvable problem, but in dialect French and French body language, not easy.
It went like this:
- Farmer & Horseman stand facing each other, closer than English norm.
- Ron stands equally close feeling uncomfortable.
- Two Frenchman put their hands on their hips & continue talking.
- Ron copies the action looking confused.
- Frenchmen's voices get louder & arms are crossed.
- Ron slowly, uncertainly crosses his arms.
- Silence!
- Ron attempts to intercede.
- Silence!
- More loud French upward turned palms & classic shrug.
- Ron stands still, unsure.
- Frenchmen shake hands vigorously clap each othe on the back & laugh.deal done!
- Ron laughs nervously, deal done, not sure what!
- Two Frenchmen, resolved, "Calvados monsieur,ah oui"
It turns out that they simply agreed to share the land & put both cows & horse on the land. It wasn't a problem, but it wasn't just the words that communicated the interaction it was the actions and it only flowed in French.
People often refer to the Gaelic shrug but like all languages there are so many degrees of any one action & so many possible actions, your fluency depends on your imitative skills.
You need all the aspects of communication to be fluent. Unfortunately in my case recently I was more, 'going with the flow' than 'flowing'.Still, as the advert advises, 'Every little helps' and I do love France!
'bah oui...exactement...bah oui'
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