I have to add two comments to my little diatribe about French judgmentalism from the other day. They're a little tendentious, really, but they fit too well. The first is a bit of news: the French president just gave a long-awaited speech on the state of France, which, instead of focusing on issues on everyone's minds, like the economy, the high level of unemployment, the discontent among the farmers (that's only on my mind because of the big demonstration I described about a month back) etc, focused on French identity. And what did he have to say about French identity? That the French could not tolerate and did not welcome the Burka. No one knows exactly what he means by that. Are they going to pass a law that outlaws the wearing of burkas on French streets (I have seen one woman in one since moving here), in French houses? Most likely they will do it the way they always do things, through their complete power over the schools: if you want to go to school in France, you'd better dress like the French, and not in a burka (ahem, and also not in old shorts and t-shirts and sandals, like the boys).

Here is the second tendentious item: Yesterday at church, my children were wearing their usual: Simeon and Matthias, shorts and t-shirts that have seen better days, Mimi some weird mishmash that she picks herself, and Magda was very stylish but her jeans do have a huge rip at the knee. So this very old lady comes up to me and says: "Excuse me, but do these children need clothes?" with this sad and pitying expression that made me blush to the roots of my hair. I assume she was going to direct me to some charity that could give my children proper coats and scarves (it's about 60 degrees out, right now, but everyone walks around with huge winter coats)... Or, she might have been thinking they needed blue knee-length shorts and white button down shirts for the boys, and pleated skirts and white blouses for the girls, as this is the uniform of catholic french children when they go to church. Anyway, I'm sure the old lady was well-intentioned, but it did make me think, once again, of how they cannot stand to see people dressed differently, it makes them think you must be either immoral, or else indigent.
Ok, I'm done with clothing observations for now. Now, for some school observations. Magdalene had a 'cross'(-country race) this week-end. It's a mandatory event, because it replaces some day in June when they will not have school. I was really excited about it when I first got the notice, because finally, here was something that sounded like America. A run with all the kids, and then it said that the parents and teachers and staff would run afterwards, and then have lunch together. I thought first of all that I'd get to meet all the parents and all the teachers in a kind of informal setting, and then that I would get to beat them at running. All pleasure for me. Well, first of all, this was the most disorganized thing I'd ever witnessed. No one knew where to go, where to run. The teachers were totally lost. The gym teachers who were in charge were rude to the kids. I was trying to take pictures but couldn't tell where the kids would be running, and then the boys, who ran separately from the girls, were making such rude comments I couldn't stand it... On top of which, there were no parents there. For the whole 700 student college, there were maybe 15 parents scattered about, none of them in running gear, all of them just standing around talking together and paying no attention to the running kids at all. The snack after running consisted of coke, cakes and chocolates (oh, and a banana, I shouldn't lie to prove my point). Anyway. I felt very foolish with my attempt at 'school spirit' and my enthusiasm. As none of the teachers were in running gear either, I ended up not running with the two fathers and the three gym teachers, it seemed just too shameful to be so enthusiastic when everybody else was completely not into it. I used the excuse that it was too cold, and that Magdalene and her friend who had come with us on the tram really wanted to go, and what on earth would have been the point of making them wait to see me and three other people run?
Other than that, my cousin Eve, who visited us in Bellingham last summer, came down from Paris for the week-end. Here, she's giving Matthias the sword lesson he'd been begging for all day. He bought himself a sword while we were in Segovia, and it has been his delight and his comfort ever since (whereas Simeon who indebted himself to us forever to buy himself a decorative axe has not taken it out of its box since). Eve does a lot of martial arts, in particular one that involves swords--a fact Matthias remembered from last summer. Anyway, we had a wonderful weekend with her. It's amazing how many people come to visit us here, compared to Bellingham where it seems like it's only ever just us.

This week, instead of going to school, Magdalene is doing her 'stage d'industrie'. Because there is a huge selection at the end of 3eme (the equivalent of 9th grade) where kids either get to go to Lycée (high school) or else get sent off to professional schools, the French goverment thought that the kids should get a taste of some industry they are interested in, I don't know whether to scare them into working hard and getting an education, or whether to encourage them to work hard to get to do something they love. So for a week they go stand in a corner of someone's office to observe what the person is doing. Of course, since this is France, there isn't anything organized by the college, you have to find the 'stage' through connections and friends of your parents, which was a bit hard for us. But Magdalene has often expressed an interest in law, and lots of people at Sean's institute are lawyers, so we got her a stage (an internship, really) at the Palais de Justice (the courthouse). We have no idea what she'll be doing, and she was very nervous going this morning. I hope it's a little bit fun for her. Possibly the lunches will be fun, since she's downtown and will be able to meet her friends at a café (they have 2 hours for lunch). I'll write more about this when I know anything.