Every week day for the past two months I have had to go to school. That’s right. School, school, and even more school.
It’s very different from school in New Zealand. You sit at singular desks, and the desks are positioned in rows of two at a desk. Also, the kids are practically never focused. They’re always talking quietly to one another while the teacher’s talking or, in the worst cases (which is quite often), they flick little paper balls all over the room with the elastic straps on the folders. This is one big difference to school in New Zealand.
The hard part of going to school here is communicating with the other kids. Especially when you understand a lot, but you don’t speak a lot. Like when Monsieur Szymanski (the principal and the teacher of CM2 (my class)) was handing out flyers about a group of people who keep reptiles (deadly reptiles too) for showing to people, and they keep them in tiny little cages. These were reptiles such as anacondas and crocodiles, turtles and tortoises. Alligators and lizards. I wanted to tell them not to go because it was an inhumane way to treat the animals, there was no animal welfare at all. And by the way, the flyers described the way they keep the animals – they would be showing many signs of distress. Personally, I would never go to something like that. But of course, there was no way I could possibly tell them not to go. All the other kids were doing “Oohs and Aahs”. I could only hope it wasn’t suitable for them to go.
But, apart from that, there are many difficult aspects of life in another country. You don’t know anyone, even if you’ve been there before. (My mum’s an exception, she knows everyone in the whole world (sarcastic, but it feels like it). Sometime you have to hang around in the corner of the school playground and watch everyone else having fun, while you yourself have nothing to do.
(Inside école Paulin Nicoleau)