Agregation

This week I had a pretty awful adventure, but most of my friends tell me it's the most French of all experiences one can have in one's lifetime so I kind of see it like a baptism of fire.

The agregation was set up after the French revolution and is one of the pillars of French society. It's an extensive examination that lasts one week long. It's 7 hours a day of constant writing. It's extremely difficult and tests your ability to think rationally, and above all write French style essays called explications de texte. That means, you typically get a quote and must use your knowledge of an extensive reading list mixed with your so-called general knowledge on a variety of related subjects to put together a fifteen page analysis with introduction, body and conclusion with three citations, dates and comparisons. This is the explication de texte bien écrite. Everyone in France who takes the agregation must begin at the exact time wherever they are located in the country. The rules are read out loud as if they were miranda rights and the subjects are taken out of sealed envelopes with pomp and ceremony. "The envelop is open. You are no longer free to leave!" Then the doors are locked and you're at your desk for seven hours. Time is given hourly. "You have five more hours. The agregation will end at 1600 hours". You may not use dictionaries or any other document.

It's difficult to explain the relevance of this exam to non-French people. It reminds me somewhat of some Ph.d exams (though it's not connected at all with the university or degrees) and also of a bar exam for a lawyer. It is a bit of a license per se. Those who are successful at the agregation get the title of agregé and are guaranteed lifelong employment at a high school or university, although many end up working in other state organizations or anywhere really. For example they can become official translator, administrator, researcher, librarian, ambassador. Actually they can do about anything they want to. Agregés are given privileges far above any "common" folk, can take the position they want and whenever they want it. They work few hours per week and get enormous benefits. They have considerable clout in society. For example if they ask for loans or mortgages in banks they are never denied. When you hear someone is an agregé, you get those oohs and ahs, and yes, many of them quickly get a big head. They can become so snobby they have been known to refuse to talk to coworkers who don't have this status. I have certainly seen this. Once I held a university post that was taken over by an agregé. For them my degrees and exams meant nothing.

There are agregations in every discipline possible ranging in everything from physics to cooking, art to math. Almost all the people I know who have tried to pass these exams have failed. Some get obsessed with them and take them year after year. I knew an American girl who tried to take the English agregation four years straight in a row and failed every time. Once she narrowly lost out. She became totally crazy. Conversely the only two people I know who have succeeded at these exams did not really seem so bright to me, giving credence to the widespread belief that passing the agreg depends not on your real knowledge but on your ability to fit into the mould and write these essays some really specific French Cartesian way. Others, those who have failed and given up obviously, insist that the whole system is a sham, really corrupt with some people getting through because of their connections in high places. I do remember going to one of these agregé's week long celebrations in the south of France after she passed. It's almost like winning the lottery. Anne literally fainted when she received the registered letter confirming she had earned the agregation.

So, I had to try! I took the Agregation exam in Romance Languages last week. For too many years I was so angry I couldn't take this exam because you have to be a French citizen to be eligible to do so. I say that... just in case some American is reading this with the illusion he/she can do it. Some of my most bitter moments in France have occurred when I have been branded as a second or third class citizen because I had not achieved this status or any other more inferior one -- like the CAPES or the PLP --for that matter, and then... to be told just a few minutes later that I was for ever excluded from even trying to get that "status"! All in all, I still don't think this system is fair, for French citizens even. Agregés work less (12 hours a week), do not have to prove their competence, worth or merit ever again in their entire life, and are paid much higher salaries then everyone else for doing the exact same jobs. Don't forget they receive the status of semi gods too. All for an exam.

I'm pretty sure I failed the first round. It took such a toll on me physically. I had to take a taxi home the last day I felt so weak. I had a diet of candy bars, the only thing I could take into the examination room. All in all I wrote about 50 pages (by hand!). Total punishment! Some of the subjects were so absurd I just looked at my paper for two hours with no idea of what I could possibly write about. I ended up making up about half of my essays. Literally it was my fiction. Absolutely pathetic! The translations were also hefty. A good deal of the works to be translated were literary and had old words from the nineteenth century. I also discovered my ability to write for long periods of time in French is limited. Without a dictionary I'm not sure of my spelling at all. Also I don't have my thesaurus to help me find synonyms.

The results should be in on May 31. Usually the correctors eliminate about 60% of the agregatifs (those who took the test). Afterwards the remaining 40% are summoned in June to take a week long oral exam. This year it's in Toulouse. I'm sure it's an utterly terrifying experience! I still can't imagine being grilled for 45 minutes. I'll have to get some kind of drugs for that. Then, yet finally another 60% are eliminated making the trip to Toulouse a waste of time. It's not centrally located for those who don't live in Southwestern France. In July the chosen few receive their letter of congratulations.

Copyright 2012 Merquiades

Manic Monday

One of the most distablizing aspects of my life in France, is my schedule. Not that it's hectic, it's just completely disorganized and that wrecks havoc on all the other aspects of my life. For a teacher there is a tendancy to have hours grouped together at any time on any given day. For example, on Monday I teach from 4:45 to 8:00, Tuesday is my only free day for the moment, Wednesday all day from 9am to 8:30 pm with quite a few gaps in the middle, Thursday 3:30 to 6 pm, Friday 8am to 10:30, Saturday 9:30-10:30 and 2pm to 4pm. All of this is subject to change too. It's not really the number of classes (I only have 6 or 7, all once a week) it's the fact that I never disconnect from this activity that gives me no pleasure. The result of all this is my equilibrium is out of sync. Classes are always more or less on my mind and I never have time to dedicate completely to any other activities: writing, fitness, cinema, culture, small trips, socializing, deep thinking. Sometimes, I even have to find time to go grocery shopping since in this town everything closes at 7pm. Add housework with other obligations in life and I'm spinning. This is a key element to my floating in France. One days glides chaotically into the next. I go to bed early one night, then really late the next. I cook and eat on the run. It's frustrating. For a teacher, it's nearly impossible to have a set schedule. As the year spins by I get bogged down in preparations, corrections and photocopies, I become detached, and lose my soul. Besides, when one is contemplating change in profession, change of city, change of lifestyle, the result is chaos. My tragic flaw: I'm not multitasked

Now it's Monday, 1:15 , I just prepared my daily classes, and soon it will all start over again. Do you know what it's like to feel a certain blah? No desire to go to work, to chuck it all and take the day to do whatever you want. I always have the reation to call and say with a hoarse voice. I caaann't coome. cough cough. I'm so sick. But I won't. I'm saving that for another day. Today is a highly profitable day and I cannot afford to be ill. Alas, let the floating begin. I'll start by listening to the Bangles. Click the title of the blog and listen with me. RT
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAZgLcK5LzI

Can work be fun?

Find a job you love and you are good at and you'll never work one day in your life.
If it is true that work can be fun, it certainly is not my case. In October I will teach over 80 hours in one establishment or another. Yes, I need to work to make ends meet and I need those hours. The fact is there is no or little work to be done between June and October teaching English in France. Plus, I did so much traveling during that time period too. The result is I am in debt. October and November will be hellish months for me, and I add that fortunately work is abundant in the Fall. People call me everyday pleading for me to take on another class, another pupil, another preparation. Yes, teaching in France (if you aren't a fonctionnaire) is a helluva rollercoaster. You either have way too much or nothing at all. Go figure!
So I'll bite the bullet. Until Christmas there will not be much blogging, little reading, little amusement, no socializing, no philosophizing, and not much deep thinking will be going on. No movies, no parties either. My life will go on hold for a while. I'll wake up, eat breakfast, teach 3 hours, have lunch, teach 3 hours, take a snack, teach a few more hours, dine, some days teach even more, and drink thousands of cups of coffee. I'll prepare classes on Sunday, and start all over again the following week. Wish me luck!
I hate this time period. Fall is the time I descend into hell for living it up in the Summer. Yes, I know I'm ranting and raving. Maybe it'd be better if the classes were actually enjoyable. Unfortunately, the work is piled on everyone, so no one wants to be there or participate.
By the way. Happy Columbus day! C.C. didn't discover America by aimless ritual. In the end, though I do like the long Summers this rollercoaster is not healthy. There will be slight plunge in the winter again and it will rev up once more in March and April just to start dwindling off towards Summer.

New job

Sometimes things happen for a reason, yet I'm still not sure what that reason is. I had the chance to apply for two great job opportunities that I ended up refusing. The first one was my favorite: a Romance Language and Literature professor in an affluent liberal art college in Chicago. Why did I turn it down? Well, first of all, the application requirements including a statement concerning philosophy of life and personal convictions, an extensive cover letter, a new CV written in a certain way, three letters of recommendation, and transcripts for round one, and then if were to make it on to, a telephone interview and then more and more requirements for rounds four and five. Yes, I could have probably managed to get all the requirement documents, but in the end I didn't want to. My philosophy of life was not to take part in this process. Do I actually prefer floating in France to making something of myself in life? It's daunting because this job and it's process felt like I was applying for the position of army colonel or indentured servant instead of a tenure track position as language professor. That makes me want to run away and far. I will work for a school with all my might, but it will only be a job, and no one will own me. Plus, I also hate it when schools try to sell themselves with words like, exclusive, superior, and elite. That's not at all me either. And then again, I must say I didn't want to live in Chicago or in any of its suburbs. I see myself floating further south or east actually! Nevertheless, I do feel like I let a great opportunity slip away. There are so many ways that that position would have been awesome and perfect for me, endlessly more interesting than continuing my current existence. I'm going to kick myself, I am, but c'est la vie. I'm going to have to psychoanalyse myself big time. A friend told to write for an hour on what I see myself doing, being and having in the future. I'll do that soon right here, maybe it'll shed some light on who I am and how to structure my future. Gees.

The second job wasn't hard not to apply for. It was a very specific position in teaching theater at my alma mater. In many ways it would be great to live in Cincinnati again, for family and comfort, but I don't want to go back to my alma mater. That campus is my history, and I'm glad I'm out. I want to move on, not back. I am crystal clear about that, really I am, in spite of salary and position. Besides, theater is interesting but I don't necessarily want to limit myself to that.

One thing I've learned about myself by writing this post: If getting the dream job requires sacrifice, I won't have a dream job ever, even if this has the salary, the benefits, the freedom and the responsibilities I inevitably want. Sorry. Rontay

A ticket to France

Talking to my friend, Heidi, we reflected on what it means to be an American floating in France. Some days I really feel like a sociologist! Yes, some kind of Margaret Mead trying to understand the intracacies of this culture. How is it possible not to get the simplest task done, or spend seven days, months or years on projects and never get any further along. Heck, sometimes you can't even get the tiniest cup of coffee.

Americans grow up in a culture where we are taught that the ticket to success is hard work. The open, articulate, nice guy with a head on his shoulder usually gets what he wants, deserves, needs. Smile to that waiter and you get that coffee lickety split. Work yourself through college and you'll find that job, your reward that you justly merit... Summa Cum Laude. Phi Beta Kappa. Become partner in that firm. We also, okay this time maybe it's just the naive Midwesterner, believe that people are good and fair at heart. People are to be on an equal footing, people should have equal opportunities, people don't get turned away for unjustified reasons, your neighbor is no better off, no worse off than you are. Grrr.. that sounds so idealistic. But maybe I've been in France for too long.

In France, if you go into a café alone, where you do not know the waiter, the owner or any of the other customers, don’t expect to be served. It’s nothing personal, but why should the waiter care? He might never see you again. You are creating work for him and there is no incentive, good or bad, for him to take you serious. He can blow you off if he chooses. At the very least, he’ll attend to all the other customers who probably have some status with him or give into his desire to go smoke a cigarette, eat an olive or talk on his cellphone before taking your order. It’s cut and dry. Nothing you can say or do will change this. It’s up to him. You can try to charm him, just maybe it’ll work, but forget insistence, a sense of entitlement, or the big smile.


The worst thing about being a foreigner is you are often alone, often go into unknown stores, restaurants and cafés, and often need to rely on the kindness of strangers to find your way, get an apartment, find a job. Yes, I’m afraid our coffee metaphor extends throughout the country, adapting to every possible known context, official or unofficial, you could ever imagine. It’s flabbergasting. There are several words for it: the ticket, the piston (link), the connection, the old network. Choose your favorite. But, the foreigner is at a clear disadvantage because by nature he knows no one. Frenchmen have mothers, fathers, grandpas, uncles’ best friend’s wife’s brother’s friends, fellow first grader’s cousin’s sister, old teacher’s nephew-in-law… well, that’s the ticket. Honestly, it could be blackmail too.. also a lot of “I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine”. A Frenchman when looking for an apartment on the Left Bank automatically thinks of who or what connection, what way, what combination can get him access to that dream pad at the cheapest price possible? Who can get him that job he’s not qualified for? Who can get him into that popular club, concert, restaurant? Maybe a discount? How can I get an appointment to see that goddam eye doctor? How can I get those designer shoes for half price? Get that authorization to do this or that? Yes, it’s unfair. Especially since everyone in France will tell you this is not the case... It’s the country of liberté, égalité, fraternité with very set rules, laws, equal opportunity and no discrimination, and you, the foreigner, have just not done something right. Honestly, someone could become bitter if they think about it too much and don’t try to use the system to their advantage. I really do understand the 2005 riots in the immigrant suburbs in Paris. Those people have no tickets and will be forever denied jobs, houses, diplomas, information, services, coffees.

Anyway, tickets have been both a blessing and a curse in my life. I’ve got 1000 euros worth of books for my thesis for 100 euros because I had a friend who had a friend whose father was manager of a big bookstore in Paris. Virtually every job I have every got in France has been through connections. Some of them weren’t even advertised. My current employer got my name through a doctor and never bothered to interview me or read my resume. At one time I was able to claim state benefits I didn’t qualify for because the husband of my friend’s sister worked there. A good word from someone important got me a permanent green card. Today, a supermarket clerk I met at a party regularly forgot to scan some of my groceries. The owner of a restaurant I regularly go to gets me the best table and doesn’t charge me for dessert. Further, another advantage has been the wonderful trips to Provence, Charente, and Paris my contacts have afforded me. To show how far a ticket can go, an acquaintance of mine managed to get a friend with connections to lay a free marble floor for him and that same guy later got a job by having someone falsify a diploma he didn’t actually get from university! Another girl, got a huge apartment overlooking the river in a swanky area of this town for 140 euros rent per month, you cannot get a closet for that in France. Know someone in a labor union also apparently opens up lots of doors. They can get you enormous benefits.

On the flip side, not having certain connections have really hurt me. For instance, I spent 10 years to become qualified for a tenured post at a university. The rules stipulate a long, long process whereby you have to move not just one, but several mountains. I’m not exaggerating here. And I’m proud I did it. I was not daunted. I achieved it through a lot of hard work and patience, and obtained the certificate to prove it. BUT, do I have that post? No. Will I ever get a post? No. 99% sure. The fact is that I’ve got no ticket whatsoever into that academic world, and I should have known better to believe that system worked otherwise. I was naïve. I’ve also been living in the same goddamn studio for too many years cause I’ve got no connection there either. And having a career and living in nice surroundings are important! Actually, part of my reticence to move to another city in France is losing all my contacts and starting over again, alone, and living even worse. That’s difficult anywhere in the world but in France, where you literally need people to vouch for you, it’s difficult.

In general, I suppose I am resigned to make the best of this system, whether I like it or not. I have an American background, so I would prefer getting things done quickly through self-resilience, skill and kindness. Will I ever get fed up? Well, just maybe… But, it’s great to get a new ticket. For me, it doesn’t happen every day, but when it does, it’s wonderful. I could probably do better but I don’t work at it. It’s against my nature. I suppose some of the mystery and charm of France comes from its weird logic it's taken me so long to unravel.

That´s the ticket!

My advise, live your life as normal, follow your instincts, maybe you’ll have a pleasant surprise, but, in general, don’t expect much from French people if you don’t have a "piston". Rontay