When working from home becomes a nightmare...

Let's just say things have been a bit wild at my place the last two weeks. After the French president announced that schools would be closed for at least three weeks to stem the rising numbers of Covid cases and hospitalisations, I wondered how I was going to manage.  Like so many parents, especially moms, I had no choice but to watch the kids, especially my 3-year old.  My twelve-year old would happily draw and do tutorials and lounge around her room all day if I let her, but a toddler is obviously a different story...

I can do this, right? I asked myself.  I had already done a few online lessons with Alex in the background.  Sometimes jumping on the couch, sometimes pulling on my arm for a candy.  My students understand as most have kids themselves.  There was one week earlier this spring I had to do it when his class was closed due to one positive case in a pupil.

But three weeks of homeworking is another story.  I got off relatively easy during the first lockdown as I didn't have many online classes then.  Our days melded together in a strange schedule of sleeping in (for the kids), playtime inside or out, games, lunch, nap for the boy.  We got stir-crazy for sure.  But I didn't have the pressure of preparing and doing lessons. 

Now I feel the craziness that so many other lockdown parents have been.  Keep the kids (especially the little one) happy and calm, make a quick lunch, spend some time with them, while still delivering quality work!  Fortunately my schedule wasn't overly full the first two weeks.  It will be busier this upcoming week! 

I feel a constant push and pull of needing to do my work (prepare and actually DO the lesson) and be there for the children, provide for their physical and emotional needs.  And it doesn't help matters that my son is at that age where a tantrum is never far off.  My greatest fear is that he goes full tantrum mode during a lesson!  Most of my students have already seen his blonde head pop up on the screen as he asks for chocolate or the "tabou-lette" as he calls my iPad.  Yes, I am far beyong limiting screen time these days.  Screens are my babysitter.

So whereas before I would look at my schedule and calculate when I would be getting home or need to be leaving in the morning, now I look at it and wonder when I can feed the kids and get Alex down for a nap.  And is my lesson at a time when he is relatively calm and amenable or getting antsy?  If I have three hours in a row can I put my student on a task to put him (my toddler, not the student!) to bed for a nap (if he's willing!).

It has created a new kind of stress that is added to my existing anxiety about doing a good job and meeting the student's needs.  And there is nothing I can do about it.  One more week, I hope that is all, because I feel guilty not being able to be there fully for the kids and this stress is certainly not good for anyone.  

On the bright side, I suppose I am getting to spend a bit more time with the kids.  But it is often associated with this anxiety.  I can only do so much.  I can't change what is beyond my control.  And no doubt one day I'll look back on these three weeks and the respective ages of my kids with a bit of nostalgia.  If only I could enjoy this time a little more now!

The book I wanted to hate

An American mom living in Paris wrote a book praising French parenting.  I wanted to hate this book.  

I had suffered (and I do mean suffered) from the endless overt and covert criticisms from my nanny, my in-laws and my own husband about how I was raising my, err, our child.  These weren’t always outright criticisms.  Some were nudges and insinuations, like from the nanny-  that I would  become a slave to my child because I responded too much to her when she was a toddler (I did overall truly love our nanny, don’t get me wrong).  Or, similarly, that Juliette’s toddler tantrums were because I didn’t say “no” enough to her when she was a baby (from my MIL).  

So a book by one of my fellow countrywomen saying that French parents were right (!) did not sit well with me from the get-go.  But Bringing Up Bébé by Pamela Druckerman surprised me.  Or maybe it didn’t surprise me that much.  Because her story (except the part about having twin boys after her first daughter!) was eerily similar to mine.  Granted, I don’t live in Paris and I’m not a jet-setting author (yet, hee hee ;) but her reactions to the French parenting and day care experience mirrored my own.

She had me at “Me, too.”

First of all, I couldn’t help but like this girl.  She was admittedly neurotic and felt a bit alienated by certain aspects of French society, just like me.  She put into words some things I’d instinctively felt.  Like how Anglophone women bond with mirroring, saying “me, too” about all the things they have in common, whereas it is sometimes hard to strike up conversations with French parents at the playground (I do, though).   She was married to a foreigner, but less foreign than mine, because her husband is British.  But she too had that natural desire to please and win over everyone she met, including her rather discreet in-laws.

An ounce (or a pound) of truth

So once she’d convinced me that we were on the same wavelength, I was much more inclined to listen to her.  And what she said rang true most of the time.  Like her, I had noticed that French parents have a set of expressions and boundaries they seem to impose rather naturally.  This is the famous cadre she mentions a lot.  A cadre is a frame, and her theory, which is backed up by careful observation, is that French parents establish this from the beginning by saying things like: 

“You don’t have the right to do that” (take a candy without asking, for example).  There is a nuance between this and “You can’t” which is more restrictive.  You don’t have the right implies it’s a rule we didn’t necessarily make ourselves but must respect.

“Wait.”  Of course, Anglo parents say this, too.  But maybe not firmly enough, she says.  And “wait” is a better alternative to constant “nos”.  

“Deux minutes” or “two minutes.” Similar to “wait”, a French parent or Juliette’s teachers, would say this, especially if a kid interrupted an adult conversation.  It implies the adults have the right to finish first, but the child will be listened to after.

Talk to your child and she will understand

Citing a famous French child psychologist, Françoise Dolto, she says we must explain things to children and they will understand, even as babies.  With the famous “you don’t have the right to do that” expression, French parents often give a brief but confident explanation of why we can’t touch a certain thing.  It implies, Druckerman writes, that children are rational beings capable of understanding.  Not sure that this would defuse a tantrum, but I find that now, especially, if I explain things to Juliette before an outing, she will assimilate it much better.  To be fair, I think Dr. Spock said basically the same thing.

Taste it

This is definitely part of French culture.  Kids at the school cafeteria all have to at least taste each dish.  That way they can decide if they like it or not.  I have witnessed with my own eyes that Juliette is more apt to eat beets in vinaigrette or pears because she tried these at school.  We do tend to eat in courses in my house, too, and serving grated carrots in vinaigrette as a starter ensures she gets some veggies.  

But…

I said I didn’t hate this book.  I didn’t say I agreed with every little thing.  I can identify with Druckerman’s experience and she fairly accurately summarizes the French parenting philosophy.  But I have also seen parents who don’t follow these unspoken rules.  I have seen an idiot who pulled his little boy’s pants down in the supermarket parking lot to whip him hard several times.  I have seen my share of grocery store melt-downs.  And parents who feed their kids junk.  I don’t think I’m as enamored with French parenting or schooling as this author.  I think there’s a slight “children must be seen not heard” phenomenon at work in France that irks me a bit.  American parents cherish, maybe too much sometimes, a child’s freedom of expression.  But that’s not always a bad thing.  And French kids may be more well-behaved in restaurants in general (Druckerman’s pet example), but they are not perfect.  And American adults turn out pretty polite and friendly, despite or because of (you be the judge) a slightly more indulgent upbringing.  

So…

I may unconsciously use some of these French expressions and philosophies now in my parenting style.  But you’ll still find me on the floor playing Lego during a friend’s party (not the whole evening) with my kid and letting her have the occasional snack between meals or one piece of candy (ok two!) after school.  Cause you can take me out of America, but you can’t take the American out of me.

We're not in Kansas anymore (or Alabama for that matter)

As I said in my last post, those "bad days" of mine are really just an accumulation of annoyances. Nothing serious (luckily). I try (and try again) to keep it all in perspective. But I can't always get it through my thick skull that my current problems are just little flies to be buzzed away. Last week I found myself swatting one of those problems around and getting myself into a fluster. I'm feeling calmer about it now so I'll share the pros and cons with you.

We're soon going to be leaving the cozy world of the babysitter and enter the puppy-eat-puppy world of pre-school. It's not an obligation in France but since the sitter we have is part of an association that only takes children until the age of 3, we have to find an option come September. So I called the town hall to find out what pre-school we're zoned for. Then I asked the pharmacists at my local pharmacy about it as they both have young children. They had some less than glowing things to say about this particular school in terms of its education level. One pharmacist switched her child to private school and found he was learning more there. The other option is to ask the town hall that an exception be made and Juliette could go to the other school not far from us which apparently has a better reputation. But also a huge number of students per class 'cause everyone wants their child to go to it!

So I did as I always do in these types of situations. I asked everyone around me for advice. The sitter said, well, you know those first years are very important. Remi said the same. But I went to public schools for part of my education and have always had faith in them. I know there are some with problems but I don't like the idea of mixing them all in the same label. My mom and aunt teach in what are considered at risk schools and I know they are both excellent teachers. It's not that the teachers are "bad" in "low" schools. It's that they've got maybe more difficulties to work with than teachers in upper-class neighborhoods where the parents are super-involved. And that no matter how hard the teachers try, some kids have got hardships that are going to affect their schooling.

Ok, I'll step off my soapbox, but my democratic ideals make me feel strongly about this. I basically gave Remi the same speech, to which he replied, but this isn't America. Oh, and don't I know it. He is French and has lived here all his life, so maybe he does know a bit of what he's talking about. Maybe some public schools in France are less than stellar. Maybe the public schools go on strike more (that one is true, I know). But I know plenty of my students who send their kids to public schools and are satisfied. Public doesn't equal low quality.

And though private may be in Juliette's future if we found that her middle or high school was really in poor shape or had problems with violence, I don't necessarily like the idea of putting her in a crowd we can't compete with so early in life. Call it the anti-snob in me but I worry (already) that she'd be mixing with les enfants des riches, kids whose parents can offer them fabulous vacations in the summer, autumn and winter. Things we just can't do. But then again, that's the way life is. If she doesn't learn it at school, she'll learn it later in life.

And then I rail against the idea that private is inherently better. Maybe the schools do have more money and fewer kids per class, but that doesn't mean the education is in fact higher quality. And I don't like the idea that a good education is only reserved for those who can pay for it. Doesn't this destroy our idea of public education and education for one and all? Oops, I guess I put that soapbox up too quickly.

And so at not even three years old, our child is already facing reality. That life is not always fair. That the differences of inequality have already started. But for now at least, she'll be a public school girl with parents who invest their time in her education. And that's the best start in life we can give her.