Ancient civilizations at the Louvre, Marivaux plays and Tiffany exhibits. And photocopies. I am more or less a professional photocopier. Or would that be photocopiest?
My whole job hinges upon locating relevant material to photocopy, going over it with my students, and pretending in this way to teach them things. They seem pleased with my photocopy choices for the most part. Besides explaining photocopies, I'm also a professional conversationalist.
Paris is also apartment-hunting stess and shock at exorbitant rents mingled with simultaneous relief to be living under socialism despite the current rental market. The French government will now officially reimburse me 100% of costs related to my rare and expensive metabolic problem. Hoping they will also similarly help me pay my sure-to-be-expensive rent. As about 300% of my salary is deducted to pay for various welfare programs, feel no shame in applying for one.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
So Much to Live For-- or Job Satisfaction Among English Teachers at French Universities
Wondering how the anglophones like teaching at public French universities? Here's an email I got recently from an ESL jobs in France listserve which gives quite the insight by sending a welcome note to newly recruited anglophones complete with a suicide hotline number. While I generally acknowledge that teaching at a public French University was for me hands down the least satisfying job of my entire life, I also think that the universities themselves should try to improve the experience of their anglophone colleagues-- rather than refering us to a call center! A well-placed orientation session at the beginning of the year to help us set our expectations properly would do wonders, as would having even mildly welcoming French co-workers and some semblance of team work... I've heard tell of such things at other universities in France, but they did not happen to exist in mine.
An ex-coworker of mine wanted to implement a mentor system for foreign professors in their first year of teaching at a French uni and I always thought this would be an excellent idea. But of course, the French did not. Being a university prof in this country often does not include collaborating with colleagues who teach different sections of the same class. It's largely everyone for themselves. They seem to see their jobs more as improvising brillant lectures, insulting their students and then going home or to the bourgeois country home for a 4-day weekend.
In all fairness, it's not only the attitudes of my coworkers that contributed to my previous French university misery. The French academic system is in some ways the inverse of the American one. The pros are that it's very democratic; everyone has a chance to study at the uni since it's virtually free and everyone who passes the Bac gets a place. Yay for socialism!
The cons are that there's no selection process in advance, so essentially the whole first year replaces the application process and wastes everyone's time enormously. Professors told me that our job was to weed out the bad students and that 65% of the students would and should fail out after their first year. A system that relies on a majority failing would be deemed broken in the US, in France it's the norm and generally what professors of first year students must uphold. The students themselves lack motivation-- sadly, paying a $25,000 tuition does way more for your motivation levels than paying 200 euros. I only skipped 1 undergrad class in my life because I calculated exactly how much I paid (despite grants and scholarships) per credit hour.
I could go on about how teaching 1st year students at a public university en banlieue was the biggest culture shock since I arrived in France, but you're starting to get the picture. All you need to know is that it's more like an extension of high school in terms of maturity levels and quality of teaching-- each professor does whatever they want, is often incredibly condescending to their students and colleagues alike and creates their own highly inconsistant syllabus-- all this under more or less direct orders to fail the majority of our students.
So bearing all this in mind, here is one professor's attempt to support foreign colleagues and introduce them to this alien system. I guess you have to give him points for trying and for recognizing that sometimes foreigners are unhappy in this system. But how best to prepare his foreign colleagues for the French academic system? Not by explaining it, working with them more closely or making any useful changes at home, at the uni itself, but by telling them en masse who to call if they're feeling like ending it all. The suicide hotline speaks English, after all, how comforting! Good work, French universities! And I thought you just didn't care. At least you outsource.
If you read French, you will see that this seems like an anti-marketing campaign for working in a public French university. The new recruits must be either highly entertained or horrified... Anyway, here's a warm welcome for anglophone professors to the world of French academia:
Chers collègues, Je me permets de diffuser à nouveau des informations que j'avais déjà communiquées il y a 4 ans, à l'intention notamment des collègues recrutés récemment. L'association SOS Help, branche anglophone de SOS Amitié, existe depuis 1974. Elle est gérée par des bénévoles sous le haut patronage de Lady Westmacott, épouse de l'ambassadeur de Grande-Bretagne à Paris. Comme SOS Amitié, il s'agit d'un service téléphonique à l'intention de gens qui se sentent seuls, déprimés, ou même suicidaires. Les écoutants, qui ont tous suivi une formation, sont originaires de différents pays anglophones. Je pense qu'il pourrait être utile de signaler l'existence de ce service aux lecteurs, maîtres de langue et étudiants anglophones qui exercent ou étudient dans nos établissements.
J'ai moi-même été responsable du recrutement et de l'encadrement des lecteurs et maîtres de langue anglophones à Paris 3 pendant de nombreuses années et je sais qu'il arrive que certains de ces jeunes collègues passent par des moments de découragement, voire de dépression - parfois pour des motifs en apparence insignifiants. Certains peuvent même être amenés à abandonner leur poste ou leurs études en cours d'année. Le fait de pouvoir appeler un service d'écoute anonyme, en langue anglaise, situé en France, peut les aider à surmonter un moment difficile. Le numéro d'appel est le : 01 46 21 46 46 et la ligne est ouverte tous les jours de 15h à 23h. Vous trouverez des informations concernant l'association sur le site: <http://www.soshelpline.org/>www.soshelpline.org>
An ex-coworker of mine wanted to implement a mentor system for foreign professors in their first year of teaching at a French uni and I always thought this would be an excellent idea. But of course, the French did not. Being a university prof in this country often does not include collaborating with colleagues who teach different sections of the same class. It's largely everyone for themselves. They seem to see their jobs more as improvising brillant lectures, insulting their students and then going home or to the bourgeois country home for a 4-day weekend.
In all fairness, it's not only the attitudes of my coworkers that contributed to my previous French university misery. The French academic system is in some ways the inverse of the American one. The pros are that it's very democratic; everyone has a chance to study at the uni since it's virtually free and everyone who passes the Bac gets a place. Yay for socialism!
The cons are that there's no selection process in advance, so essentially the whole first year replaces the application process and wastes everyone's time enormously. Professors told me that our job was to weed out the bad students and that 65% of the students would and should fail out after their first year. A system that relies on a majority failing would be deemed broken in the US, in France it's the norm and generally what professors of first year students must uphold. The students themselves lack motivation-- sadly, paying a $25,000 tuition does way more for your motivation levels than paying 200 euros. I only skipped 1 undergrad class in my life because I calculated exactly how much I paid (despite grants and scholarships) per credit hour.
I could go on about how teaching 1st year students at a public university en banlieue was the biggest culture shock since I arrived in France, but you're starting to get the picture. All you need to know is that it's more like an extension of high school in terms of maturity levels and quality of teaching-- each professor does whatever they want, is often incredibly condescending to their students and colleagues alike and creates their own highly inconsistant syllabus-- all this under more or less direct orders to fail the majority of our students.
So bearing all this in mind, here is one professor's attempt to support foreign colleagues and introduce them to this alien system. I guess you have to give him points for trying and for recognizing that sometimes foreigners are unhappy in this system. But how best to prepare his foreign colleagues for the French academic system? Not by explaining it, working with them more closely or making any useful changes at home, at the uni itself, but by telling them en masse who to call if they're feeling like ending it all. The suicide hotline speaks English, after all, how comforting! Good work, French universities! And I thought you just didn't care. At least you outsource.
If you read French, you will see that this seems like an anti-marketing campaign for working in a public French university. The new recruits must be either highly entertained or horrified... Anyway, here's a warm welcome for anglophone professors to the world of French academia:
Chers collègues, Je me permets de diffuser à nouveau des informations que j'avais déjà communiquées il y a 4 ans, à l'intention notamment des collègues recrutés récemment. L'association SOS Help, branche anglophone de SOS Amitié, existe depuis 1974. Elle est gérée par des bénévoles sous le haut patronage de Lady Westmacott, épouse de l'ambassadeur de Grande-Bretagne à Paris. Comme SOS Amitié, il s'agit d'un service téléphonique à l'intention de gens qui se sentent seuls, déprimés, ou même suicidaires. Les écoutants, qui ont tous suivi une formation, sont originaires de différents pays anglophones. Je pense qu'il pourrait être utile de signaler l'existence de ce service aux lecteurs, maîtres de langue et étudiants anglophones qui exercent ou étudient dans nos établissements.
J'ai moi-même été responsable du recrutement et de l'encadrement des lecteurs et maîtres de langue anglophones à Paris 3 pendant de nombreuses années et je sais qu'il arrive que certains de ces jeunes collègues passent par des moments de découragement, voire de dépression - parfois pour des motifs en apparence insignifiants. Certains peuvent même être amenés à abandonner leur poste ou leurs études en cours d'année. Le fait de pouvoir appeler un service d'écoute anonyme, en langue anglaise, situé en France, peut les aider à surmonter un moment difficile. Le numéro d'appel est le : 01 46 21 46 46 et la ligne est ouverte tous les jours de 15h à 23h. Vous trouverez des informations concernant l'association sur le site: <http://www.soshelpline.org/>www.soshelpline.org>
Friday, September 11, 2009
Falling Towers
Sitting out in the sunshine today in a near suburb of Paris before my afternoon class reminded me with a start of September 11th 8 years ago on a different continent. What struck so many people that day, including me, was that after seeing horrific unreal action film-like footage over and over on TV and learning of sudden tragedy upon arriving sleepily at work, the weather was beautiful. It just didn't match and seemed not just inappropriate, but like a deep yet surreal form of betrayal. When my office was evacuated and I walked home since the metro wasn't running, I remember that the sun was out and the sky, the same sky that the twin towers once scraped and that the planes exploded in, was blue and cloudless. A recent trip to Germany where I visited the Dachau concentration camp under sunshine and blue skies inspired a similar feeling of meteorologic betrayal.
I lived in Washington, DC September 11, 2001, and I remember the following:
Before evacuating the building where I worked, we all watched the news mutely, breathlessly, watching the crash, the people jumping-- the same scenes over and over that seemed like they'd come out of Hollywood's best action thrillers. An NPR story that I heard later and have since never been able to find mentioned a crowd watching the collapse of the 2nd tower and described people instinctively outstretching their hands as if to try to hold up the tower and prevent it from falling. It was literally a beautiful gesture.
We were in a communication vacuum-- all the TV news simply showed the same images, they didn't even know how to interpret or analyze them. I tried to phone my family after the Pentagon was hit to reassure them I was fine, but all circuits were busy and no one could get through. I tried to organize office carpools so that my suburban coworkers could get home despite the closure of the metro and then we were told that for our own safety, the building would be evacuated and that we should call in the next day to see if it would be open.
The papers the next day had full page photos of what looked like the apocalypse.
If the defining question for my parents' generation was 'where were you when Kennedy was assasinated,' it become 'where were you on September 11th'? For the rest of the year, at parties everyone took turns relating the events of their September 11th.
The cultural memory of this event was obscured and tainted, I think, after the way the Bush Administration invoked and exploited it as justification for undemocratic measures like the Patriot Act and a ludicrous premise for another war in Iraq. For this reason, it's hard to find any sort of memorial events for the victims on this day outside of NYC. 2 years ago, I looked in vain for candlelight vigils in Paris on September 11th. Not only to remember those who died in the towers and their bereft friends and families, but also rescue workers, firemen, and policemen who risked their lives, and might today still suffer from stress, trauma or debilitating health problems from exposure to the dust and toxins on the day when TriBeCa also became known by the name Ground Zero.
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal
-T. S. Eliot, The Wasteland
I lived in Washington, DC September 11, 2001, and I remember the following:
Before evacuating the building where I worked, we all watched the news mutely, breathlessly, watching the crash, the people jumping-- the same scenes over and over that seemed like they'd come out of Hollywood's best action thrillers. An NPR story that I heard later and have since never been able to find mentioned a crowd watching the collapse of the 2nd tower and described people instinctively outstretching their hands as if to try to hold up the tower and prevent it from falling. It was literally a beautiful gesture.
We were in a communication vacuum-- all the TV news simply showed the same images, they didn't even know how to interpret or analyze them. I tried to phone my family after the Pentagon was hit to reassure them I was fine, but all circuits were busy and no one could get through. I tried to organize office carpools so that my suburban coworkers could get home despite the closure of the metro and then we were told that for our own safety, the building would be evacuated and that we should call in the next day to see if it would be open.
The papers the next day had full page photos of what looked like the apocalypse.
If the defining question for my parents' generation was 'where were you when Kennedy was assasinated,' it become 'where were you on September 11th'? For the rest of the year, at parties everyone took turns relating the events of their September 11th.
The cultural memory of this event was obscured and tainted, I think, after the way the Bush Administration invoked and exploited it as justification for undemocratic measures like the Patriot Act and a ludicrous premise for another war in Iraq. For this reason, it's hard to find any sort of memorial events for the victims on this day outside of NYC. 2 years ago, I looked in vain for candlelight vigils in Paris on September 11th. Not only to remember those who died in the towers and their bereft friends and families, but also rescue workers, firemen, and policemen who risked their lives, and might today still suffer from stress, trauma or debilitating health problems from exposure to the dust and toxins on the day when TriBeCa also became known by the name Ground Zero.
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal
-T. S. Eliot, The Wasteland
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