Raelyn's First Day Of School

It's Friday September 3rd and it is the first day in exactly one month that Soren and I will not be in the presence of  Raelyn and Nola. Actually, we have left them with our current babysitter a few times, in other words, our laptop streaming Netflix movies, while we sneak out for a quick run. But worrying about your kids killing each other or burning the apartment down does not quite constitute the same kind of mental break that dropping your kids off at school does. Except that today is not the day for a true mental break since we are nervous about Raelyn's college experience. After dropping Nola off at school at 8:20 (she was excited to return and enjoy another French lunch) we had forty minutes to kill before Raelyn's school opened. We wandered around within a four block radius looking again for decent places to hang out during these soon-to-be daily interims. When we arrived at the entrance to Raelyn's school, families were waiting for the gate to open. Like Nola's school, we noticed diversity among the crowd. And again, we did not know what kind of welcome or orientation to expect, if any. We were thinking that Nola's school might be an anomaly so we were not exactly expecting a warm welcome to college. Clearly, we were still lending lots of credibility to those expat websites. When the school gate opened families began to walk inside and gather in the school's courtyard. Soon, staff members walked out and Madame Directeur began to speak in French. I did not understand anything she said and Soren only understood a small bit. Her affect was energetic, she smiled quite a bit, and she exuded the presence of a leader. Madame Directeur then introduced a woman who was in charge of roll call. There were about 100 students gathered and as each name was called the student replied, "Présent!" and walked over to their teacher and formed a line. When Raelyn's name was finally called she replied, "Présent!" and she left our sides and approached the staff, but she did not know where to stand. Who was her teacher? Roll Call directed her to a young woman wearing a red coat. There were five other students in Red Coat's line. All of them appeared to be considerably older than Raelyn. We noticed that Red Coat immediately smiled and spoke to Raelyn who smiled back as they exchanged a few words. This was somewhat reassuring for us. At least Raelyn's teacher appeared to be the welcoming sort. Next, the teachers and students walked into what appeared to be the school's multi-purpose room. Most parents began to follow. Raelyn's group remained in the courtyard. We were not sure what was happening or what we were supposed to do. We waited and watched. Raelyn's group then proceeded to head inside also. There was one staff member nearby so Soren approached and asked in French, "Should we follow the students inside?" The staff member asked who we are and where we are from, in French. Upon Soren's response, he introduced himself as the Assistant Directeur and said that he will speak English to us, but to please forgive him. Forgive him? We wanted to hug him! (We find it quite amusing when French people apologize for their poor English skills and then speak it almost perfectly). When he learned that Raelyn is enrolled here in the school's language adaptation program he frowned and apologized and told us, "Your daughter, she will have disappointment here. The other students that learn with her already speak French. They are in this group because they have problems with learning. But she will learn French with time and then can go with other students." Great, our très intelligent Raelyn is somehow lumped in with the learning disabled kids!? No offense to them, of course. Assistant Directeur then led us inside where the staff and all 100 families had gathered. It was standing room only and we could barely fit ourselves inside the door. We had to crouch on the floor in the front corner so as not to block the view of those standing against the wall behind us. Madame Directeur spoke again, for a very long time, and we still did not understand much. Soren caught some bits about the importance of completing homework and working hard. Other than that, nothing. Several leg cramps and pins and needles later, we were dismissed. We know Raelyn was somewhere in that multi-purpose room but, unfortunately, I did not catch a glimpse of her upon our exit. I had to reassure myself that she was in good, kind hands with Red Coat. I was so eager for 12:00 to arrive so that we could be with Raelyn again and hear about her morning. When we picked her up at the appointed time she was waiting out front. The first thing she said to us was, "Where were you? I've been waiting here for almost 30 minutes!" We tried to deduce how that mix up occurred. As Raelyn described her day, the best we could tell is that her group was dismissed 30 minutes earlier than the rest of the school. Nobody had told us about that. Raelyn, being the problem-solver that she is, explained that if we hadn't arrived in another five minutes she was going to walk down to the busy intersection, find a payphone, and call Grami. Never mind that it would be 3:00 a.m. in California, and that Grami is 6500 miles away, or that Raelyn only has euro bills and no change in her backpack, or that payphones are obsolete and nonexistent, or that along with supplying her with a handful of euro bills for emergencies, we also supplied her with a laminated card that has our Paris address and our Paris cell phone and home phone numbers. Grami was going to come to her rescue! I love that. As we walked down the street towards the Metro to head home for lunch, she said that Red Coat was not, after all, her teacher. Red Coat is a secretary. Instead, Raelyn's teacher, she described, is old ("About fifty."), frail, and shaky, and did not seem to know what to do with Raelyn. Raelyn stated that a few teachers and the Assistant Directeur came into her classroom that morning. Each time, Raelyn's teacher whispered to these staff members about Raelyn. She overheard her teacher say each time, "Américaine," and "Seulement anglais." Certainly seems like Old Frail teacher was trying to figure out what to do with her new pupil who didn't quite fit in. Raelyn was reluctant to give us her honest opinion, but we pressed and she finally admitted, "I don't like it there. They are all older than me and they all speak French and I feel like I don't belong." What to do? We immediately had a collective brainstorm at the entrance to the Metro. Raelyn was starving so our initial plan was to go home, eat, and then walk to the other college that is printed on the CASNAV placement letter. That college happens to be within walking distance from our apartment. If we walk there, maybe it will give us a sense of proximity for hopefully reducing the daily scheduling hassles since Raelyn could potentially go to and from that college by herself. And, perhaps this other college truly has the language adaptation program meant for Raelyn. If so, we can go to CASNAV afterwards and demand that Raelyn be switched. So we hopped on the Metro and it occurred to me that I do not want Raelyn at any college. I want her at elementaire with Nola. And Vishnavi. And Madame Christine. And nice Monsieur Directeur. I want warmth, I want nurturing, I want balance, and I want it to be a relaxed school year with the predominant focus being the learning of the French language. I spoke my truth to Raelyn and Soren. Raelyn gushed, "That's what I want too!" So we hopped off at the next station, crossed to the opposite platform, and caught a train headed for CASNAV. With our anxiety at a peak, we spent the next part of our afternoon plotting, over lunch at a cafe, our strategy for getting CASNAV to meet our demand. We decided that we had several problèmes that we can present to them to make them see the errors of their ways: The Assistant Directeur stated that the supposed language adaptation program is instead for the learning disabled, that those students are much older than Raelyn, that Raelyn's teacher was unclear about what to do with her, and that Raelyn is très unhappy. And, of course, we would reiterate that Monsieur Director at Nola's elementaire has room for Raelyn in his language adaptation program, and that Raelyn would be très happy there. Soren's anxiety was palpable during lunch since he needed to figure out how, in French, to say what was necessary while presenting himself as resolute, yet polite. He decided that he was going to request to speak to CASNAV in English. Upon arriving and explaining to the receptionist that we do not have a scheduled rendevouz with Madame Directeur, we had a brief wait in the waiting room. A red haired woman appeared and explained that Madame Directeur was not in the office today. Our hearts sank. Soren, speaking in French, briefly explained why we had come. He made sure to emphasize the word problèmes. She said she can try to help us. My first sigh of relief in what felt like years then occurred. I could sense this was a woman with some compassion, empathy, and the desire to help. As it turns out, she was actually in a hurry to be done with us because as we followed her up and down stairs at a very brisk pace she explained that she was in a rust to get across town within an hour and that she was on her way out when we arrived. Soren told her that we are very good at walking fast. At that moment, we would have said or done anything to keep her on our side. Soren requested to continue our story in English and he did an excellent job, in my opinion, of being firm yet polite with regard to Raelyn's situation. Red Hair's response to us was, "We complete new paperwork for you to say that family is requesting change, it will be a moment for you." Several minutes later, we left CASNAV with officical documents placing Raelyn at elementaire with Nola. Success! It felt too good to be true, but we had what we needed. We now had to go through the all-too-familiar hoops of le mairie to formally register Raelyn and sign her up for the lunch program. Piece of cake. We have that routine down by now: Go in office. Hand over paperwork. Receive confirmation document to give to school. Three more little steps and we'll be done. So, it was with pits in our stomaches at le mairie as we sat there listening to the three employees discuss amongst themselves their resistance to granting Raelyn's registration at elementaire. Because she is eleven. We pulled out all the stops. Or I should say Soren did the work, but I was the puppet master. "Tell them Monsieur Directeur approves of Raelyn's attendance there, tell them that her sister already attends there, tell tell them CASNAV said it's okay, tell them that she was put in a learning disabled group, tell them to call Monsieur Directeur, tell them we'll pay them a million bucks!" I was not going to let these people and their rules get in the way of what was rightfully ours now. We jumped through all their hoops, tried it their way, and I was now a mama that was not going to take 'no' for an answer. I know what's best for my kid, period. They actually did make a call to Monsieur Directeurr to verify that he approves of this plan. "Phew," we thought. Done deal. Except that it was clear from our end of the conversation that we could overhear, Monsieur Directeur had no recollection of this 'Raelyn Kaplan'. We scrambled to pull out Nola's paperwork so that the official could mention her name and hopefully jog Monsieur Director's memory. That did the trick. The call ended and the offical turned to us and said, "D' accord, c' est bon." One photocopy and signature later we had Raelyn's registration in-hand and noticed that we had not a minute to spare to dash the three block stretch and fetch Nola by 4:30. Upon our arrival, Monsieur Directeur greeted us at the gate with Madame Christine and welcomed Raelyn to their school. They inquired, "She will be happy?" We emphatically said, "Oui, Oui!" And they knowingly replied, "Then you will be happy too." How true!

Nola's First Day of School

Nola's School

On her way...

Post-school grin.

Soren and I were not sure if Nola, who has a tendency to be a bit shy, would express any resistance to the idea of attending a new school where she does not speak the language, she does not know a single person, and for the first time ever, she is not attending school with her sister. Nola showed no signs of nervousness. She independently picked out her school clothes the night before and layed them out. She made sure her backpack had the requisite pencil case, pen, and pencil. And the next morning, she reportedly had a good night's sleep. She was ready to roll. I, on the other hand, was not. In my funk and fatigue from disappointment and lack of rest, I had failed to set my alarm the night before. Thankfully, Nola came into our room and woke us up with enough time to spare. Not enough time for me to shower, (which meant it became a hat day for me) but enough time to not be late for the first day of school. Phew! I had intended to put more effort into my appearance for this special day. Expat websites mention the formality of the school environment and since French people dress well to take out their garbage, surely they dress well to drop their kids off at school. Instead, I quickly threw on a hat, jeans, and shirt, downed the breakfast that Soren helpfully made, and off we went. Nola's hair was still wet from her morning shower, but she was cute as can be with her big new backpack riding the Metro to school. When we arrived, families were gathered in the little street in front of the school's closed front gates. We immediately noticed diversity among these families: French, Asian, Indian, Italian, and African. We were pleased since one of the reasons we declined the girls' admission to the private school was due to its homogeneous community, essentially, well-to-do French families. We eagerly stood in the street waiting. We were uncertain as to what, exactly, we were waiting for. A bell to ring? The gate to open? A hopeful invitation for parents to come inside? From the information we gathered from expat websites, we anticipated a distinct and formal boundary, one in which parents are not invited to come inside, meet the teacher, or enter the classroom. These sites also stated that if parents want to communicate with the teacher, they must ask for and receive permission from their child's teacher first before entering the classroom. Since we assumed that, in a moment, Nola would be whisked away from us, we said our goodbyes and good lucks in the street and gave her all the reassurance we could. Kisses and hugs were quick and discreet so as not to embarrass her in front of her new peers. Just then, the gate opened and Monsieur Directeur stepped out, smiled, and motioned for everyone to come inside, parents included! He greeted every family as they entered and we were no exception. Once inside the gate, families congregated in a big courtyard surrounded on all sides by the school buildings. Parents were greeting one another with smiles and European kisses and commenting on how much each others' children had grown over the summer. We observed whom we presumed to be teachers milling about and greeting students and their parents. Just then, Raelyn excitedly spied across the courtyard the very same girl that she had played with in our neighborhood park just a few weeks ago. (See post "What I Learned In London, Pt. 2"). Raelyn's smile quickly turned to a frown upon realizing that she will not have the opportunity to get to know this girl better since Raelyn will be attending college. This girl (who Raelyn recalls is named Vishnavi) was greeting her friends on the other side of the courtyard and did not see Raelyn. Next, we were approached by Madame Christine, Nola's teacher. She warmly introduced herself to Nola and us, in French. Continuing to speak in French, she explained that Nola's class has six other non-French speaking children and she pointed them out to us in the courtyard. Madame Christine then stated it was time to gather as she wanted to lead us to her classroom. What a surprise! Once inside, Madame Christine explained, in French, that she speaks only French to the children and that her methods include lots of gestures, repetition, and drawings on the board. She showed us the kids' workbooks and described how, as the year progresses and her students' command of French improves, they will be weaned from her and assimilated in with the rest of the French-speaking students and immersed in the normal curriculum. Madame Christine said that her students will work diligently from 8:30-11:30 and then break for lunch. For two hours! During which time they sit down and enjoy a three-course meal like the French do, slowly savoring every bite. After their meal the students spend the rest of their time in the courtyard playing. From 1:30-4:30 it's back to school work and then the day is done. No school on Wednesdays and lots of field trips. And parents are encouraged to chaperone. Yes! I know Nola will be happy here. She will need to get used to the lack of a snack break. And she will also have to train herself not to scarf down her lunch in 3 minutes like back home in order to maximize her playtime during recess. When we picked her up at 4:30 she emerged with a big grin. Madame Christine made a point to check-in with each student's family to report on their day. She told us that in the morning Nola was no smiles,  but by mid-day, Nola was happy and engaged. On the way home, we asked Nola if she spoke any French at school. She said, "Once." Of course, we wanted to know what she said.  As usual, Nola proved to us that she's a girl that goes after what she wants and needs. Her French for the day... "La toilette s'il vous plaît?" So glad she remembered her manners.

The Day Before School Starts. Still No Letter.

It is Wednesday. School starts tomorrow. We have just woken up and admit to each other that we are not willing to wait and see if Raelyn's placement letter arrives today. Even if it does, there is no guarantee that it will arrive early enough to allow for the time we need to go to her school directeur's office, and at that point, if we don't think it's a good fit, make another trip back to CASNAV before closing to appeal for a different placement. With a sense of urgency quickly taking over, we strategize our plan for heading straight to CASNAV a.s.a.p to state our case (in French) and hope for the best. No sense calling them on the phone, we didn't trust that they would answer and besides, in-person gestures help a great deal with comprehension since Soren's command of French is nowhere near fluent (although I am in awe of how much he has been able to communicate and understand in every facet of our life here so far). We were glad to see there wasn't a long line at CASNAV like last week. We were seen right away by the same woman who administered Raelyn's test last week. She has the cold demeanor of you're bothering me so let's get this over with. Soren explained to her that we are eager to find a school for Raelyn and that we ideally want her at Nola's elementaire and that the directeur there approves of this plan. Soren also emphasized that Raelyn is young for her grade, that she does not know the metric system, and speaks no French. Therefore, he summarized, elementaire is a perfect fit for her at this time and it would make us very happy to have that result. The cold woman abruptly responded, "She is eleven and she must go to college." She then led us downstairs to the CASNAV directeur's office. Cold Woman and Madame Directeur exchanged words about Raelyn's test and Cold Woman left. After a brief introduction, Soren repeated his plea to Madame Directeur. I was distracted a bit from listening intently to her reply because there was another employee in the room who I first noticed because she was very well-dressed.  Then I saw her picking her nose and she seeing us seeing her picking her nose (she continued on with this activity anyway).  I had to turn away so as to concentrate on Soren's conversation with Madame Directeur who was turning our attention to a big map on the wall that pinpointed all of the Paris public schools. She located Nola's school on the map and searched for a college nearby for Raelyn. Soren again repeated that we would like Raelyn to attend Nola's school. The directeur replied, "Non," because Raelyn performed too well on her test. "Elle est très intelligent," she must go to college. At that moment, Cold Woman returned with Raelyn's test in her hand. "Voila," said Madame Directeur as she showed us Raelyn's results. We immediately noticed a lot of red ink marks all over the test. Back home, that usually means a lot of errors. Apparently, that is not the case in France. "C'est bon," Madame Directeur exclaimed. This was despite the fact that Raelyn left the entire metric system section blank. How can they (per French standards) think Raelyn is très intelligent when she cannot tell the difference between a liter, meter, and kilometer?  "College is better for her, you will see," Madame Directeur summarized and Cold Woman returned with an official document that contained the name of the college two blocks away from Nola's elementaire. "The schools are close enough," she told us, "But on some mornings you can take Nola and Raelyn will sleep. Different schedules." Huh? We felt defeated. We did not feel like it was a good strategy at that point to lie and argue that Raelyn is in fact quite stupid for her age. Maybe we would have stooped that low if Raelyn had not been present. But being that she was, we smiled and pretended to agree with Madame Directeur's viewpoint so that Raelyn would hopefully think that we were all on the same page now about what was best for her. The last thing Raelyn needs upon entering a new school in Paris is the burden of knowing her parents are not happy about it. So with fake smiles, we said our au revoirs to Cold Woman and Madame Directeur (Nose Picker was still going at it) and left CASNAV for what we hoped would be the last time. Next stop of the day, Raelyn's college with official document in-hand to formally register her there. We had such a nice welcoming experience at Nola's school that we were looking forward to more of the same. Non. Instead, we dealt with two secretaries, one pleasant but incompetent, and the other, Cold Man who could not be bothered. No meeting le directeur, no gaining information about Raelyn's special program or her hopefully amazing teacher. We learned that the first day of college is not tomorrow, but instead, Friday. From 9:00-12:00. We were also told that Raelyn needs proof of insurance. Soren extracted our international health insurance card. Non. The secretary then proceeded to explain in great detail the type of insurance that is required to attend college. Soren and I could not understand anything except that we can obtain this type of insurance from the same place we obtained our renter's insurance. One more errand was now added to today's list. This was also the beginning of our learning (bit by bit) how Raelyn's attendance at college would impact our daily life in Paris. Madame Directuer's comment about Raelyn's sleep now made sense when we glanced at the college schedule. Two days a week, Raelyn's school begins one hour earlier than Nola's. Two days a week, it starts one hour later. Suddenly, my visions of dropping the girls off at school in my gym clothes and heading off for a workout with plenty of time left to explore and enjoy Paris on my own before the end of each school day were fading fast. Soren's initial attempt at problem solving led me to envision finding a cafe near their schools that would become our morning hangout ritual, alternating with whichever daughter had the late drop-off for that day. Not such a bad idea if you ignore the daily cost incurred by cappuccinos, chocolat chauds, and croissants. Not to mention the sugar highs. It wasn't my ideal, but I could make it work. Later that day, back at the apartment after obtaining the insurance that we still have no clue what it's actually for, we took a closer look at Raelyn's schedule and learned that not only is her morning schedule different than Nola's, her afternoon schedule ends an hour later than Nola's- every day. More cafe-time!? I don't even drink coffee, how can I put down two cappuccinos in a day, every day? If the schools were near our apartment, this scheduling matter would not be an issue. But it's just far enough away so as to make it too inconvenient to go home and back again as well as not allowing me to feel comfortable letting Raelyn make the trip to and fro by herself. Soren reassured me that when he is in town he will gladly take over drop-off/pick-up duty. This helped my mindset a little, but not much. Certainly not enough to grant me a good night's sleep.  The next morning, (it's now Thursday and Nola's first day of school) we had to return to the college with proof of insurance and  register Raelyn for her lunch program. Madame Lunch Lady asked Soren, "Will Raelyn be eating a meal on Wednesdays also?"  There is no school on Wednesdays, why is she asking this? Soren pulled out Raelyn's schedule. Sure enough, college students attend school on Wednesdays. Now, my visions of enjoying Wednesdays exploring Paris with Raelyn and Nola evaporated with so much shock and disappointment that it took all my effort to not break down and cry in front of Lunch Lady. Raelyn had no clue yet about this new turn of events. I was glad she is not fluent in French so that later, we could be the ones to gently break the news to her that, in fact, she is going to attend school 5 days a week. Both the girls and I had been looking forward to a weekly hump day of exploring Paris. This was a devastating blow to our lifestyle for the year. With lunch card in hand, we left the school and spent some time scouting out the school neighborhood for cafes, a library, a museum, any place that would afford space for a daughter and I to hang out before and after school. By this time, however, I had lost my perspective due to my sour mood. I couldn't tell if the cafes were truly unappealing in this neighborhood or if I was in such a funk that not even the most hip, clean, delicious spot would satisfy. Soon, it was time to retrieve Nola from her first day at elementaire. Putting on a fake smile for the second time that day, we eagerly went to fetch her. More on Nola's experience to come. When we returned home that afternoon, Raelyn's placement letter from CASNAV was waiting on our doorstep. It contained the name and address of a different college than the one in which we just enrolled her. To top off the day, we caught a brief mention on France's TV news of an upcoming strike that would close schools next week. Guess we could use next week to squeeze in a year's worth of exploring Paris with the girls.

Raelyn's 11th Birthday

How did this happen? Has it really been eleven years since Soren and I became parents? As all parents know, time flies. But not when you are awaiting the fate of your daughter's French school placement. It is now two days prior to the start of school and still no letter from CASNAV. We manage to put it out of our minds (or at least do a decent job pretending to anyway) and enjoy our "queen" for the day. We told Raelyn that she gets to choose the birthday outing and the locale for the birthday meal. After much deliberation, checking the forecast, and negotiating with Nola about her own upcoming birthday outing (Sept. 6th), Raelyn finally decided that she would like to spend the day at Cité des Sciences et de L'industrie. This museum offers many fun kid-oriented features such as a gleaming silver Geode dome that shows IMAX films, a planetarium, a spy submarine built during the Cold War for the French navy, a greenhouse, and even an exhibit that lets you make the Mona Lisa speak in your own voice while you control her facial expressions. It's much better than that little ol' painting over at the Louvre. Raelyn wanted to peruse the menus of the sidewalk cafes across the street from the museum. There were a handful to choose from. She chose a winner. A bustling cafe with delicious-looking food and a nice ambiance. Never one to shy away from the limelight, Raelyn asked Soren to tell our waitress that it was her birthday. She didn't know that French waiters don't have a custom of surrounding your table while enticing other diners to join in a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday To You" while a cheesy hat is placed upon your head and a measly birthday dessert with spoons for each member of your family is presented to you. Nevertheless, Soren was a doting birthday dad and he told our waitress that it was indeed his daugther's bon anniversaire aujourd'hui. Our waitress didn't seem to think much of this. So, it was to our surprise that upon the conclusion of our meal, she brought Raelyn a delicious piece of tarte de chocolat with a lit candle while the restaurant's sound system blared a version of "Happy Birthday" that we have never before heard. I was waiting for the rest of the wait staff and other diners to join in. No one did. I was also secretly waiting for the waitress to bring extra spoons. She didn't. But Raelyn was beaming. She got her moment of birthday glory and a whole slice of tarte de chocolat to herself. Okay, she did actually share a small bite. She's lucky I didn't have my own spoon, it was delicious!

Raelyn's party guests. Improvising is key when you have yet to make human friends in Paris.

Meeting Le Directeur

Monday, August 30th we departed on the metro for the short ride (12 minutes door-to-door that includes a station transfer) to Nola's new school. We had been reading on expat websites about French public schools so that our expectations would be appropriately aligned. Based on what we had read, we expected a brief, cold, and formal meeting that solely focused on confirming Nola's placement at this school. What we got was something different. For those of you who know Ms. Terry at The Meher Schools, this directeur was almost (not quite) a male version of her. Oh joy! He was relaxed, warm, personable, interested, and spoke some English to us too. Soren's brain was grateful for this brief break from mental gymnastics.  Le directeur made us feel very welcome and he spoke very highly of the woman that would be Nola's teacher, Madame Christine. When he learned of our desires for Raelyn, he stated that if CASNAV agrees that she should be placed in elementaire, that he would like to have her at his school. He even took it upon himself to call CASNAV while we sat in his office to tell an official this himself. But the officials at CASNAV were not answering their phones. They were probably on a smoking break. We felt bolstered by the fact that he was ready and willing to advocate for us. By the time we left, we were feeling so grateful and lucky to know that Nola was attending this school. We reasoned that if le directeur has these kinds of people-skills, he probably  has great leadership skills and has a content, happy workforce at his school. Afterall, he was so complimentary of Madame Christine, we felt confident that we were releasing Nola into a joyful, well-run school. We also learned not to believe everything we read on expat websites. Even more on that later. And we are still waiting for Raelyn's letter to arrive. It is now three days until the first day of school. To be continued...

La Rentrée (translation: our vacation is over)

Here in France, early September is known as la rentrée, and it’s a Big Deal. It’s when everything picks up again after the two month break that is summer holiday season. Adults are back to work, kids are back to school. The city is busy again in many ways. Stores and restaurants that have been closed are re-open, the outdoor markets are bustling, and doggie droppings are plentiful on the streets. We have yet to step in any, but we have had many close calls. Advertisements everywhere capitalize on the fact that it is la rentrée, enticing consumers to purchase new clothing, school and office supplies, home furnishings, etc. We have been gearing up for la rentrée these past few weeks: we purchased new clothes, new shoes, and new backpacks for Raelyn and Nola. More eagerly, and somewhat dreadedly, we have been waiting for the arrival of Tuesday, August 24th. This is the day when we could go to the department of the schools (“L’académie de Paris”) called CASNAV (the “Centre Académique pour la Scolarisation des Nouveaux Arrivants et des enfants du Voyage”). This department is designed to welcome, test, and place foreigners entering the French public schools.  The first 50 families to arrive each day at the CASNAV office are allowed entry. Others must come back the next day. So this day had been hanging over us ever since the day I blogged about "Getting Schooled". Given the unsatisfactory outcome during our first attempt to enroll the girls in school,  it gave us plenty of time to look forward to the bureaucratic hassles to come. CASNAV opens its doors at 9:00 a.m. However, we wanted to ensure our being seen that day so we arrived early at 6:00 a.m. with snacks, books, and video games to bide our time. We were first in line, but many other families arrived just after us. It was a long wait, and the girls were mostly patient. At 8:30 a.m. an official emerged from the building and handed out numbered tickets. Interestingly enough, even though we were first in line, our ticket had the #2 printed on it. The official handed out all 50 tickets and by now, the line of families extended down to the end of the block. At 8:58 a.m. an expensive sedan pulled up in front of the entrance and a very well-dressed family emerged from the car. When the doors to CASNAV were opened promptly at 9:00 a.m. and we were ushered inside, this newly-arrived family entered with us. We glanced over and noticed that they were the proud owners of ticket #1. We couldn't help but wonder if they had political ties? Maybe they know Liliane Bettncourt or Nicolas Sarkozy? We were a bit amused however when they did not serve this family first. Naturally, they served #35 first!? After serving #35, CASNAV finally made sense for the first time that day by calling, "Deux!" It was our turn and, indeed, we really were #2 after all. A young man who spoke decent English (and, by the way, was the only official we encountered that day that spoke any English to us) told us that CASNAV will test and place both Raelyn and Nola in school. We had previously read on the CASNAV website that they only serve children age eleven and up so we were not expecting any outcome for Nola on this day. We were pleased that this was turning out to be one-stop-shopping for both girls. After the young man verified and made photocopies of the girls' documents, he created an official envelope for each. Then we were ushered downstairs and swiftly separated from the girls since it was time for them to take their test. This also marked the start of our all-French language, all day long journey. We did not know what the test consisted of, what the format was, the length of the test, or what the results specifically determine. We just knew we were told to wait in a room with other parents of test-takers. Shortly thereafter, Nola was brought to us. It was explained that indeed, she was too young for CASNAV's services and we were told that we need to register her at le mairie  in our arrondissment (been there, tried that!). We were prepared for this and had done our homework thanks to our relative, Olivier, who had, behind the scenes, been communicating with local schools in an attempt to find a placement for Nola. Soren showed the official the name and address of the school that supposedly had space for Nola in their CLIN program (akin to the U.S.A.'s ESL program). The official obliged us and said she would make a call to confirm Nola's placement. More waiting. A long wait. Finally, Raelyn was brought to  us and we were dismissed with instructions that we would receive a letter in 7-10 days with Raelyn's school placement. (The first day of school just happens to be in 9 days, but oh well. We're at the mercy of the system now). Soren explained that another official was working on Nola's placement. We were told to wait. Meanwhile, we peppered Raelyn with questions about the test. To summarize, it was written, all mathematics, with a big section on the metric system. Raelyn left those answers blank and she reported to us that she did horrible on the test. We congratulated her and told her that this was likely the one and only time she would be congratulated for performing poorly on a test. We suspected that if she received poor results, CASNAV would place her at elementaire with Nola rather than at college. We were feeling hopeful now that our wish would come true. Finally, the woman working on Nola's placement brought us an official document that contained Nola's school placement. However, it was not the school that we had thought had room for her. Instead, it was a school even closer to our apartment (none of the schools in our arrondissment have the CLIN program). Things were looking up! We left CASNAV in high spirits, off to our next destination, les mairies (again), this time, with official documents in hand to prove that there is a school with space for Nola. First stop, le mairie in the 4th arrondissment, where we live, to show them that the document gives Nola permission to attend a school outside of our arrondissment. Second stop, le mairie in the 3rd arrondissment, to prove that the 4th arrondissment knows that Nola will not be attending a school in their arrondissment. By now, it was mid-afternoon and this whole process was giving Soren many opportunities to use his French. To his surprise, he received a complement from one official at le mairie that he spoke it well! Getting to the right official at le mairie in the 3rd was a bit challenging. These buildings are big and multi-storied with lots of corridors and doors. When a desk clerk gives us directions, we understand "left", "right", etc., but we miss the "little" nuances such as, "second hallway after the fifth door on the right up the lift on the fourth floor." By the time we find the elevator and get to the 4th floor, we've mixed up everything else and wind up wandering around and guessing which door upon which we should knock. Turns out, we knocked on the door that is responsible for registering children in the school lunch program so we learned that we needed to go back there once we received the stamp of approval from the correct official down the hall.  By the time we were enrolling Nola in the school lunch program, Soren's brain was entirely fried.  His silent searching through his vocabulary and verb tense rolodex inside his head was stalling. I surprised myself a couple of times by translating for him what I understood the official to be saying. I also completed a sentence or two of his. I did not expect to pull  that off, but I did! The day's process ended with the official instructing us to go to Nola's school and meet le Directeur. This meeting would have to wait until Monday August 30th however since he was still taking his vacance. The official also confirmed that if Raelyn's test scores are poor, then CASNAV would place her in the equivalent of 5th grade at elementaire. So, despite a very long day and a laborious process with  bureaucracy that was not as unpleasant as we had anticipated (really!), we were feeling quite pleased and very hopeful that our desires for the girls' schooling would be just as we wish. Now what? We wait for August 30th to meet Nola's directeur and we wait for Raelyn's letter to arrive in le poste. Hopefully before the first day of school. To be continued...

post in progress...

New post coming soon, creating it now, but it's a long story to tell. Will fill you in on the school assignment process and the first day of school which was today. Off to bed now, early to rise and get the girls off to les ecoles in the morning. We're on a schedule now! Meanwhile, here's a photo of the girls modeling some of their new French school clothes. Tres magnifique!