Covid 19 Confinement

As I’ve been getting stronger I’ve started to gradually do more. Yet, like many people we have the prospect of wondering how this pandemic will be affecting us as a family. My husband works with the cruise industry, obviously it’s been very affected by the current situation. So as he works each evening to prepare for the lifting of restrictions, and we hope and pray for our financial future, I’ve been looking at how I can help.

To me one of the good things about being a stay at home mum is that when we face financial difficulty their may be ways in which I can help. When both spouses are working and your expenditure matches that two fold income, there may not be a similar resource to draw from. So I’ve recently been completing a course online to teach English as a foreign language, and possibly French too. I’m a former teacher anyway, so this may be a way to provide an additional income source whilst staying at home God willing.

In France itself we had the exciting prospect of some the restrictions of the confinement (as it’s called here) lifted. There was news that the maternal children would be going back on 11th May. I was incredibly relieved. I’ve been teaching my youngest daughter to read here at home and she’s doing wonderfully. As I’ve said before her speech has been really impacted upon by the move and other issues, so reading has developed this significantly.

However I’m teaching her in English, as we don’t have a lot of French children’s books for her age group. We’ve bought them for her, but she’s ripped and scribbled on them. There’s nothing more frustrating is there? This phase stopped a lot earlier with my eldest daughter because she was reading from the age of three onwards, but our youngest’ speech proved a negative factor here too.

So, no books and my poor pronunciation meant I’ve concentrated on English. That and zero contact with the outside world has meant I’ve been very worried about her losing what little French she has. These are extraordinary times, but the consequences are significant for those kiddos struggling at school.

Yesterday we left the house and suddenly we were chatting with two neighbours. I’ve got to say no one seemed to consider social distancing, 😬. One of our neighbours said the mid May date wasn’t a definite, in fact she wasn’t confident of it at all. So I’ll have to phone on Monday and make sure, my other neighbour suggested speaking with the Maire as they would be the person to make the decision.*

Our neighbours had experienced the police stopping them, which we’ve fortunately avoided. One was spoken to about going for a loaf of bread 😬 and she’d heard from a friend that she’d been reprimanded going for baby nappies as these “weren’t essential” – 😬 😱. I can’t thing of a lot more things that are essential than nappies from the grocery store.

Whilst I’ve been ill my husband started to take the girls out on long walks. For the first time I went with them on Friday, and I joined them Saturday too. I thought I’d share some photos of the local scenery.

God bless you all; I hope you and your family are well.

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• It’s been confirmed that the village school with be reopening on 11th. Whopee!

Children Living With A Second Language

I’ve spoken before about my youngest daughter’s difficulty with speaking which is a result of her need to be fed intravenously when she was born. As a result her mouth muscles were very delayed in strengthening. That and the fact we moved a lot when we first arrived in France meant she had some delay in developing speech; each time we moved she would take time to assess her surroundings, observe and learn new things about the environment.

However, now she is starting to develop her language rapidly. She is enjoying being able to speak so much and swaps merrily between the two; sometimes she chatters on in French and we don’t understand what she’s saying!

It’s wonderful to be able to engage with her more. Simple things like having conversations about what she’s done that day in school, who her friends are – those little, truly important things. It gives her such joy to be able to communicate and be understood. She hardly ever resorts to her little signs to get her message across now, reaching for words instead.

I would place my daughter at about two and half years in her capacity for language. As she has just turned five this appears incredibly worrying. However she’s super quick to catch onto things in the house, so I’ve always known it’s not an issue of intelligence. Yet, even if it was she’s my heart. Both of them are.

In school it’s affected her ability to learn as language is reciprocal; we learn through engaging, clarifying, reflecting back. She has been limited in her ability to do these things. It has led to frustrated and distracted behaviour in class; she’s not a naughty girl, but she hasn’t integrated as well because of these difficulties. I’ve spoken before about how I feel at times about living in France. It’s as if I live in a glass box, with the language being a barrier between myself and fully accessing all the things around me. Well, this has been her glass box too.

Yet it’s important when you’re travelling this type of road to regularly take stock and check just how far you’ve come, as the path ahead can still appear so long and overwhelming.

Last year at the start of term, when she was just about to turn four, the teacher and I were excited when she would say one word in French, English – whatever – in class. Already at the start of this year the teacher noted to me how every day there was a new word, and now new sentences and expressions. She’s developing her ability to use her language to question, describe, and explain her own world. Her behaviour has significantly changed too. All within half a term!

It’s been a long and at times worrying journey, but we’re finally drawing in line with the other pupils in the school.

If you’re in a bilingual environment already you will have no doubt heard that your child will have a speech delay in comparison to their peers. They are, after all, learning two languages. But, as in all things child development wise, they may not stick to the timeline professionals set for them.

It is important too to consider the extent of what they know. That two and a half years I spoke abut earlier; well that’s two and a half years in both French and English. In the practices of both cultures.

I tell you all this because if you have bi-lingual children (or simply children raised in a bi lingual environment), or if you are considering a move here to France it is important to consider the ramifications there may well be have in terms of language on your family and not feel overwhelmed when problems may occur.

For those of you considering moving to France I’d like to tell you that there has also been significant support from within the school and wider services. She has a teaching assistant in class. Her and another little French boy just did a short course of specialist help for two half hours a week after school. She has attended the local CAMSP organisation – basically the learning support department for the area here. All this has been free.

The support is phenomenal within the school environemnt. She was kept behind a year, which I think is a good thing, but they’ve arranged that she still spends time with the class she would have moved ahead with in library visits.

We now say we have one English daughter who is fluent in French and one French daughter who speaks English. She has all the expressions of a French child and just chooses whatever language that fits her communicative mood at that time.

This reflects how the two girls have experienced learning the language so differently due to their ages when arriving here. The eldest, who arrived when she was four, nearly five, had to learn a second language. The youngest, one going on two, experienced a dual language work as a norm.

Our eldest daughter is finely confident and enjoying the language. A while ago she told me she spoke better French than me, she was very proud. She will still ask me for french words, but her pride in her language has grown enormously.

Just recently we had a little bit of a conversation that wasn’t entirely pleasant though. She’d started correcting my pronunciation, which I was fine with. Then in a shop one day the assistant spoke to me, the kind of conversations I’ve had thousands of times by now and which I’m more than capable of. To my surprise my eldest responded for me!

The assistant spoke again, my daughter responded again!

I gave a look. You know, that look.

I let it go, but the next day when I was walking her to school we spoke about it and I explained that I knew her french was better than mine now, and it would continue to improve and far outstrip my own. However mummy needs to be able to talk for herself so that she continues to learn french and also (stricter tone) it’s very rude to respond on behalf of other people as if they can’t do it themselves.

I thought she understood, but then her friend came to play. Perhaps she was over excited, but she kept speaking for me, explaining the most basic of French phrases all through the day and night (sleepover). I’d already explained in more and more firm tones that this was not polite behaviour and she should stop.

Then I heard her correct her French friends pronunciation of a French word!

The gloves came off. I had to explain that there were such people who are known as know it alls and she was becoming one of them.

As I said, having to learn a second language has affected the girls in different ways. The youngest is aware of a different language, but it’s just life to her. My oldest, she was acutely aware and embarrassed by the fact that she had to learn a second language – she evidently felt isolated and at a disadvantage in comparison to her peers. She’s the type who hates to be wrong! For her it wasn’t so much the fact that she had to learn another language, but that she felt so vulnerable learning another one in front of her peers.

We regularly have conversations about this. I explain to there that her friends, though all knowing in terms of French to her, have to ask their parents for the meaning of words in French just as she does in English. This thought had never crossed her mind.

This year she has a student teacher. She came home happy she has English homework and announced to me in a stage whisper; “I know all these numbers. I can count way past 100. But I’m going to do them anyway.” The stage whisper turned into one of glee “My new teacher doesn’t know I’m English”

I’ve never seen her so happy.

La Vide Grenier and Feeling at Home in France

Here in our little village the sun is out, the blossom is on the trees and it appears as if people are coming out from their hibernation. At our regular market here on a Tuesday people linger longer to chat, or sit outside the two little bars to share a drink, walks to school are enjoyed in the sunshine. Heaven.

Our youngest daughter is finally speaking consistently. She’s faced an uphill battle that I’ve spoken of before; a life endangering struggle when she was born meant she was fed intravenously, leaving her mouth muscles severely weakened. Added to that our move to France and moves within as well as other changes have also impacted upon her. Her use of English has developed significantly, which is a relief. She speaks a few french words, but understands everything.

I write all this just to let anyone who’s thinking of moving to France, or who’s already moved with young children and is experiencing this, to anticipate that there may be difficulties with very young children and language; but that things do work themselves out.

My own use of French is finally getting better. Twice recently people have commented how much my language has improved. I find myself expressing even my thoughts in English now with the french equivilant. Instead of saying ‘I’m happy about that’ I’ll say ‘I’m content with that’. I’ll automatically say ‘voila’ instead of there you go. The lines between the two worlds are a little more blurry.

Having said that it’s still as if we live in a glass box; you are there but the language and culture barrier limits your capacity to fully engage with what’s going on around you.

Yet I am deepening relationships, meeting people for coffee and having some English people over for dinner. Gradually I’m using ‘tu’ and not ‘vous’ – which is surprisingly hard. We don’t learn french from our parents of course, so swapping to the informal means becoming used to the different tense usage. Sometimes I swap between the two with people and when I realise worry that they’ll think I’m suddenly expressing annoyance. After all it was Josephine’s change to vous that enraged Bonaparte!

It was a battle to join the health system due to difficulties we’ve experienced caused by our accountant. However, when I expressed this to the directrice at the girls school she put me in contact with the mother of some of the pupils who worked in that department. Something which had taken me months of worry and heartache was suddenly resolved. I can not express to you have grateful I am for that.

There have been times, as I’ve spoken of, that this glass box has left me feeling a little isolated and lonely. When you’re an immigrant to a country where you must speak another language it’s hard. Not only have you got to think of how you express something, you have the difficulty of not being certain that the way you are saying it is the correct way in terms of social norms. We’re not aware just how much cultural and social knowledge we accumulate until we step outside.

This Spring showed me just how much has changed. Each year our little village has a vide grenier, a sort of car boot sale. Last year it was on Easter Sunday but, this year’s moon cycle being different, the same early April date didn’t clash with the feast.

A year ago the weather was grey at that time and we knew, well, no one really. The girls had only just started to their school as it was shortly after we’d moved here. The main street had lots of places to buy cooked food and eat outside. As I was alone with the girls I bought us lunch and we had it inside. I expected an early end to the fair, but my eldest kept coming into our bedroom at 9 and 10 o’clock as there was an open air bar and people were enjoying themselves. She found it exhilarating!

This year we were more prepared and, even though my husband was away again, my parents came over the night before to take part. The sun was shining, the village was full of stalls and activities (we only saw a fraction of what was on offer) and there was a party atmosphere throughout.

What really struck me though was how many people we now knew. Every few feet we would stop to greet and exchange kisses with someone, happily chat and move on until another friendly face meant we stopped again.

Our school runs are the same; stop, kiss, chat, stop, kiss, chat….

Deus gratias.

Living In Community Means Responsibility…

….and as an immigrant I know this from my hosts.

On Tuesday my husband and I left the house early to go to the market before I went ahead to pick our youngest girl from school for lunch. My eldest refuses to come home for this meal as she likes to ‘dine with friends’. In all honesty the menu they have at the school is far superior than that at home. Only when you’re living in France can you expect to get an answer to “What Did you have for lunch…” that begins with “Well for l’entré we had….for the main plait… and for déssert [proper inflection] we had….”.

I digress. We are fortunate that we have one, as well as local shops. Many of the villages nearer to the towns don’t as their proximity to large shops makes them obsolete with selection and prices. Yet these markets give us an opportunity to meet the others in our village, as well as buy from chains leading back to our local farmers.

Unfortunately this time I didn’t have my camera, and I’m rather shy about taking it out and snapping away so publicly anyway. I’ve included here some photos of the local market at the next town. Regularly visiting ours is a fruit and veg stand, with in season produce, a small delicatsen, some clothes, a fishmonger, a wine cellar. This in addition to the local butchers, hairdressers, ironmongers, pharmacy and boulangerie.

I must confess I am no longer used to prices of produce that hasn’t been hammered down by the enormous buying power of a supermarket chain. It shocks me that having bought an entire cod fillet we paid 20€. I bought a kilo of mince from the butchers and à tartine of pâte croûte and together they cost 14€. Needless to say the supermarket is cheaper and for someone who has virtually no physical taste (I thought it was diabolical, for instance, when they reduced the salt in Pot Noodles – If You add it back in it just doesn’t taste the same) this isn’t a selling point for me either.

Yet the importance of people and valuing what they produce is important and does convince me. Never more so than having read this astonishing article here. Unfortunately I have neither the cooking or home economic skills at present to commit successfully shopping at these places all the time. I say this because the expense means going without – perhaps we can’t have meat every day of the week, but it will be of a superior quality. In order not to have meat every day of the week and not just substitute fish I have to learn to cook meals with little or no meat, with leftovers; in other words the things our grandmothers did when produce was local and their shopping was too.

I want to do this, I feel compelled to as giving value to the food, denying the self in the process, means valuing the person doesn’t it?

Today I walked out of my front door and was met with the scene that made me fall in love with this village. The sweep of the road here is so beautiful – and our house is on the corner leading into this sweep. I remember driving through this village for the first time and being astounded at it’s beauty, constructed 100s of years ago, and lovingly developed since then.

As I walked round the area, its duck pond so beautiful which is actually owned by a naighbour, the clear waters of the river, I am aware that generations of these villages have contributed to this and I am inheriting it by grace.

I walk to the school and my presence is walmly greeted by others. They smile and are patient with my still struggling French. I am grateful for their patience and consideration.

When I return home a neighbour drops by. We walk through my garden and she gives me advice on plants and how to tend them as she knows I’m not a country woman. Again I am grateful for her time.

These people already practise the responsibility of small community. It strikes me that they are La France Periphique, those who are mocked and derided for their concerns about immigration, globalisation and the impact it has on their lives.  Yet I can tell you that I have not experienced any derision, only kindness from them. Even when I’ve discussed political issues with them and they have been vocal in their concerns in their grace they have always made it clear that it not born of hatred for the stranger, but a wish to have someone discuss and address their concerns without deriding them.

They are people I admire and I went to learn from. From their self sacrifice, their solidarity and, yes, the knowledge of this earth we share. I pray that I can be worthy of their inheritance.

Start Of School And Snow Days

I spoke recently about how I’d made the decision to put the girls in our village school. It’s an idea I’d been toying with and discussing with my husband for some time. My youngest daughter Lilly has to come home at lunch time and I was already having to do a 45-60 minute round trip three times a day to and from the school, which was extremely difficult whenever my hubby is away for extended periods in the USA. However, there was also the impact on the girls.

Just prior to Christmas my eldest got a cough and I kept her off of school. Then she didn’t want to go back, putting on a fake cough whenever the subject of school was brought up. She’s always loved school, so I was surprised to say the least.

When we moved to our village, which was further away from the school than our old house, she started to comment on how near everything was. We had been living in the countryside, pretty much isolated. She was so joyful at being able to walk out of her front door into society!

So many times people have made the comment to me that children will just pick up a second language, its easy for them. That’s just not true, so if you’re thinking of moving abroad please consider that. It’s hard and tiring for them. It’s not a holiday, but their every day life. Anyway, I think her going from a more relaxed level of school to the more intense level of schooling required for her age was just too much for her.

As my husband hit the half way mark of being abroad I wrote him a text; “we have to seriously talk about their schooling’. I’d gone from ‘it will be her [my eldest child’s] decision’ to its happening, just a case of when. In fact, shortly after that I decided it was going to be as soon as possible. I arranged a school visit, both girls got on well and by the next week they were going to the village school.

They had one more day to say goodbye at their old school and it hit me, let alone the girls. Their old school had been very good and welcoming to us. They understood why I’d made the decision – too early starts for little children, dark country roads, long journeys on top of long days – but the children were going to miss her and she them. I don’t think I’ve ever been so saddened by a goodbye.

However, it was the right decision. The girls have made friends straight away, and after 18 months of living in France I am feeling that we finally have a chance to be a part of the community where we live. As we walk to school together I’m not only meeting parents at the school gates, but seeing their faces in our little, local shops and having a sense of belonging. The girls are loving it.

 

 

 

The school and other parents are excited to having English people at the school too. Not only that, but as we walk to and from the school now I get lots of opportunities to meet my neighbours. Today I spoke for ages with a woman from over the road who was a French teacher in the UK. She seems wonderful – it’s so exciting!

To cap it all off it snowed on Wednesday. Neither of my girls have ever seen snow. They were out in the garden enjoying it, not a care in the world. Life is good. These are the moments you cherish and thank God!

 

La Belle Fille’s Second Day Of School

I’ve republished this post and the accompanying first day of school one from a former blog as the girls are starting their new school today.

Last Thursday La Jolie Fille and I went to l’école maternelle to meet La Belle. Waiting at the school gates with the other parents I anxiously looked for her. After a little while she appeared, holding the hand of another little girl in a crocodile. She was all smiles as I waved madly. Madame France greeted me and said au revoir to La Belle, asking for une bise goodbye – then off we were going home.

Of course there was an avalanche of questions.
Did she enjoy herself?
Yes, she’d got to play in the playground twice. Twice! She repeated, with added emphasis to show me just how fantastic that was.
Did she play with any of the other children?
Yes, a boy and some girls.
What were there names?
I don’t know.
You’ll have to ask them tomorrow.
Why?
Because you’d want to be called by your name wouldn’t you. (She changed the subject, unconvinced and not wanting to try)
Do you remember how to ask someone French their name. (She adamantly changed the subject)

I gave her her gouter and we drove back to Les Grandparents Francais. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to share my children’s lives with my folks. Living so far away from both sets of grandparents in the UK was hard; I move country but I’m closer to my family! That’s a win!

All the same questions again, from multiple sources. Everyone is received that she’s had a wonderful day – she seems ecstatic!

All evening and the next morning she’s trying to remember the words in French she’s learnt and asking me the names of other words. It takes her a while to settle down as she’s still so stimulated by the day she’s had.

The next morning, whilst answering another 100 questions on what so and so is in French I encourage her to think about how to ask someone’s name again. “Do you remember how to ask? Comment tu t’appelles?” On the drive to school we sing a song with the words for asking someone’s name and saying ‘I’m called…’ In French.

When we arrive I see the same little boy and his father from the day before. I say hello to him and he offers me a hand to shake. “Hello” he says in English. La Belle looks on shyly, but later on she recounts this event with absolute astonishment. “He said hello to you mummy – in English!”

I complimented him on his English in French, and his dad translated my words to him because – and I’ve experienced this before – no children understand my French. (I’ve tried to have a conversation with children at the church childrens group and they’ve looked blankly at me. Then ones turned to the other with a loud “oh, c’est prês d’ici”, repeating exactly what I’d just said like she’d cracked the enigma code).

His father let me know that we were meant to take the children to the classroom were  we met Madame French, La Belle’s teacher, again. I call her Madame French because my brother (who I’ve been quietly calling b****y Sean under my breath ever since) convinced La Belle that her teacher would be called Mrs French. That’s what La Belle keeps calling her, no matter how many times I tell her that’s not the case, even under Madame’s nose.

As we waited to speak to madam another girl came near the door with her father and looked shyly by, a navy blue, flowered hairband in her hair. “Look mummy, that’s my new best friend” La Belle said.

All considering things couldn’t be better. I’m off now to answer another few hundred questions about what somethings called in French.

La Belle Fille’s First Day Of School

This was posted on my previous blog, but I thought it was worth reposting here as Les Petites Filled are changing school.

So, the day finally came. La Belle had her first day at school today. Over the last few days she’s had a love, hate affair with French. Some days she wants to speak it all the time, others she won’t want to know. This has obviously been a reflection of how she is feeling about starting her school at the time.

Last night I got her school clothes together, letting her choose between a set of French clothes I’d bought here and a dress with cats on that I’d bought in England. She chose the cat dress.

Le Marie used our leopard glove puppet to tell her all about his (the leopard’s, not Le Marie’s) first day of school. Leopard had been very worried too, because he spoke only English. But when he’d got there he’d had lost of fun and games with the other leopards and made lots of friends.

As this was going on I was in the kitchen adding labels to all of La Belle’s equipment scolaire. When we’d first enrolled her I’d been given a list of school equip,ent to get for her and it all had to have her name on. I added the name of each item in French too; as La Belle can read in English I thought this would help her learn the French words too. If nothing else it was a way to give her a little sense of control and therefore comfort before she started the next day.

That night she’d had trouble getting to sleep. I went in her room to give her one last cuddle and we spoke about how Ellie Elephant had been nervous on her first day at Peppa Pig’s school, but Peppa had looked after her. “You’ll meet your Peppa, don’t worry” I told her. I also pointed out that she had been watching lots of children’s programmes in French and understood what was happening. She seemed a little more settled.

At breakfast leopard made another appearance to remind La Belle all about how well his first day had gone. I spoke to her about her first day at pre-school in England when she was two. I told her how she’d only been able to count to twenty and had very few words beyond that (she’s a maths wiz) but she’d still made lots of friends.

In the morning as she was washed and dressed and grew increasingly excited I sat her down and read to her the école maternelle book again, which has everything that happens at school so she knows what to expect. I also showed her the little laminated cards of various activities which I’d put in the side pocket of her backpack.

As we set off on the journey La Belle asked for English songs to be played. Oh dear, I thought, that doesn’t sound good.

Then we drove into the cathedral town where her school is. I couldn’t help but think of all the mum’s I knew in England going through the same car journey today. How there day would be similar, how it might be different.

I’d never been at dropping off time before so I hadn’t seen this before; all of a sudden we could see everywhere little children with their backpacks on heading towards the school. La Belle became more and more excited as she pointed them all out. As we got out of the car all her cares had apparently gone and she was eager to get inside.

Now it was my turn to worry. I had to locate her teacher. I’d been sent an email about a week ago telling us where to wait and what the teachers name was. I couldn’t pronounce it. I saw three different teachers and waited anxiously before finally spotting La Belle’s. I manager to be understood and to understood her; was she staying for lunch, the time to pick her up and where, does she stay after school, there’s no telephone number for her (ahhhhh, telephones).

La Belle had gone shy by my side whilst this was going on, but she didn’t looked so shocked now when the teacher greeted her with a kiss (by this time so many adults have greeted her with a kiss she’s getting used to it).

Then more waiting, but La Belle now wanted to happily play. I kept pointing out a little boy is seen registering for the same class. She refused to go and say hello, but started to play near where he was. I stood having a conversation with his father. La Petite Fille was running round like a mad thing with Le Marie holding her by the reigns so he couldn’t join us. I wanted so much for him to be there, make friends. We’re fishes out of water – just come and nod! But of course a 22 month old will not be still for niceties and it’s only my anxiety that’s causing a problem.

La Petite attracted attention wherever she went. The French showing the adoration for children one woman questioned her and ran a commentary on her responses; was she going to the class? Oh no, no! She was going to stay with her mother. Quite right too!

Then announcements came over a loud speaker. I can’t hear what’s being said through those things in English, let alone French. I didn’t even try, but watched the father of La Belle’s classmate to see where I should be going. Then we were off to the classroom. I became worried again. What if we got separated? Le Marie speaks very little French, mine is great. What if we missed instructions? Got seperately from the crowed? I can’t pronounce the teachers name!

As I was trying to follow Le Marie and La Belle and the rest of the group, edging my way through the crowd, when all of a sudden parents who had been waiting behind me managed to get through the gap past me – the French don’t do queuing. “On y vas, Madame” they kept saying. The gap between Le Marie and I became bigger and I became more needlessly worried. I took my opportunity and pushed my way through. “On y vas, Madame” said a man who’d I’d just gone in front of. Had I offended him? Behaved rudely? He seemed jolly and smiling. I’ve worried about it ever since, but I’ve a feeling there was no harm done.

Then into La Belle’s class. All was as it had been in her école maternelle book. She was so excited. She started to play next to the boy whose father I’d spoke to outside. La mattrice went through the same instructions again as outside, we kissed La Belle and then we found ourselves walking outisde.

I hope she’s having fun.