.png)
This is honestly a small novel about cross-cultural observations. If you'd like more logistical updates and prayer requests, they're at the end of the page. :)
I need to preface this post with the acknowledgment that all of these views and experiences are based off of what has been, in reality, a short experience with the French. Any stereotypes I comment on will and can always be broken, any viewpoints are experiential and are from my (carefully contemplated) frame of reference.
January 5th, 2023, I was asked by one of my schools if I wanted to go to England with them.
April 3rd, 2023, at 5am, I boarded a huge coach consisting of fifty-seven 5th graders, destination: Angleterre.
I really had no expectations for this trip, but hindsight, I should have asked more questions about their anticipated role for me, because I have learned that even if you don't have expectations... you still do. My only stated job given was, "soit le lien entre nous et le centre de jeunesse britannique": to be the connection between us and the British youth center where we were staying. I was also asked if I felt comfortable taking a group of kids, to which I said, yes, but no more than five or six kids and only the ones that will listen. My French at this point was good, but not quick enough to give direction to kids who wandered or did not want to listen. And if we're speaking in legality, I technically could not be left alone with kids.
Ok so, be liaison, and take a small group of kids. Awesome, I can do that. And cool, I get to explore England and see these kids explore a new country! Most of them had never been outside of France, muchless the Paris region.
We arrived at Windsor at 1 in the afternoon, and I was given nine kids to guide through the tourist-packed castle. I felt swamped and side-swept, but knew that standing in a parking lot with fifty hyper kids was not the time to say, "Attends, je peut pas le faire; hey, I can't do this." So I rallied best I could. It was an extremely stressful three hours as these sweet kids were overwhelmed, exhausted, a little lost, and therefore wandering. At one point I had seven kids, but somehow made it out with nine kids again. (God.) After that, I said I could not do that again. The teachers were quite disappointed, understandably... but I had also stated that I did not feel comfortable with that many kids. The rest of the week continued with me feeling a bit useless when we did tours. (To be fair, Windsor was also stressful for the other teachers, they just had more words to help guide the kids than I did.)
This was the first pang of confusion and disappointment. I hate feeling useless and in-the-way, especially when I already communicated my boundaries. On the coach to the youth center, I wrestled with why I am so afraid of disappointing people, why I can't let go of people misunderstanding me. I wanted to just say, "Hey, I really want to help! I can help; maybe I can just be the person that makes English fun? The positive outlook and energy on the long days?"
The positive outlook...
**Cultural Side Note 1: The French are known to complain. And they will agree with that; they will say it is the national pastime to complain and judge. Some people will even joke that the Republic exists because people complained so much that they had a Revolution in 1789, (and then again in 1830, and again...) They're technically not wrong! So, complaining is seen as a potential drive for change and progress. It is also rooted in 20th century French philosophical movements like existentialism that valued suffering and angst. They do not like to pretend to be happy or satisfied when they are not, and they will be upfront about their opinions. While we as Americans tend to keep our judgments to ourselves, they will state them. They are proud of their singularity and their esprit critique (critical thinking) towards other cultures.
Now, there's actually a fair amount of this outlook that I respect and would like to lean into more, such as frankness and genuinity. But... there's a balance.**
I've talked about how I can naturally tend towards negativity, but my American optimism really shone in England. Meaning, I knew the day would be more enjoyable if we found all the things that were fun.
Day two was to be spent at the youth center doing the zipline, climbing wall, and so on. I started the day already a bit lost because one of the teachers wondered why I did not help with bedtime. I apologized, saying I did not realize they expected that from me, but to let me know which rooms to go to that night. "... All the rooms?" was the confused response I received, to which I said, "Oh, well maybe it would be more efficient if we each had a few rooms to check on."
"No, just go to all of them."
Cool. Ok. (I am such an efficient person, but was of course willing to adjust to the group. Which, maybe I should have leaned more into the French spirit of frankness?)
The morning was gorgeous and green and sunny, but a bit too cold for the French. They complained about British weather and rain (?), to which I giggled, "We're only 120km north!" They layered up in their wool coats and scarves, telling the kids to also layer up because otherwise they'll catch a cold. The British staff we met outside were in shorts. It was about 50*F, but warmed up to about 70*F by noon.
That afternoon was probably the most cross-culturally impactful moment on the trip. I have lots of other little funny stories, such as how the French ate so much bread Tuesday morning that the next day the center made sure to have enough stocked. But that afternoon pushed me to what became a growing point, mainly because I could not go to a breaking point.
One of the chaperones was an older French woman who used to work in schools as the equivalent to a special needs advocate. She was a hoot, and we ended up bonding by the end of the trip. But on Tuesday I quickly saw that, either she was experiencing culture shock or was just annoyed, maybe a bit of both, but she was not in a healthy state. She did not speak much English, ("Yes" was about the extent), which can feel a little debilitating as you cannot communicate what you need! (And of anyone, I totally get that.)
I saw that two teachers had paired off together (a whole other side story...) so I decided to take a deep breath and go with, "Camille", we'll call her. The rest of the afternoon was spent translating her frustration with "British rules" to the confused and curious British. Such "rules" included not letting the boys relieve themselves on the other side of the climbing wall, not using the clearly occupied soccer field, or not climbing on giant tires (this one being liability issues, not "British" , which I tried to explain to her.) She would huff and puff and try to explain to the workers why it was silly we could not do X, but could not form a sentence for them, so would turn to me, gushing out every frustrated French thought she had stuck behind a dam of English. The workers would ask me if she was ok, if there was anything they could do to help communicate more clearly, to which I tried not to complain (*tried*) and said, "I think she might be experiencing culture shock, other than that..." and I ended my sentence with a defeated shrug.
Looking back on this day, it really was the perfect storm. Exhausted travelers, new country, and a people-pleasing American. The workers and I laughed how I am probably more British than French: people-pleasing yet passive aggressive.
That night, after an exhausted and teary phone call with mom (a lifeline I will forever be grateful for), I called out to the Lord for strength, to help renew my mind, to give me grace and perseverance. She had said, “Annie, you’re honestly in a very diplomatic situation.” It was true; I needed to speak factually to both cultures, instead of letting my frustrations paint the “other” in a bad light. This continued to be difficult for me, as I felt for and related more closely to the two British girls with whom we were working. Our school, for the rest of the week, changed meal and activity timing with no notice, to which the British girls tried their best to accommodate. But when you work at a center for 1,500 people, one group cannot be serviced whenever and however they want.
**Cultural Side Note 2: I have found that the French, at least those whom I have lived and worked with, do not communicate very well with plans and expectations. For a while, I thought it was a language barrier, until I realized that was not the case. From my observation, I believe it is because they view tasks, work, and understanding differently. If it's not my job: c'est pas mon problème, c'est pas possible. It's not my problem, it is always your problem. You don't understand? Why?
Because no one ever told me...
This, as you can imagine, leads to what I believe is unnecessary confusion, (let's recall my tendency for efficiency.) My cultural upbringing clashes with this in two ways: on work, specifically in a team, you jump in even if it is not your job, because you noticed a loose end or missed thought. On taking responsibility: a good leader is one who can say, it is my problem, how can we work to fix it.
I am not saying the French cannot work as a team, nor that they do not take responsibility for things. It is just a different outlook on life, one that might be hard for cultures who are habituated to more explicit collaboration.**
To the British, I did try to poignantly state the way this school was acting did not portray the French accurately, who are a warm, welcoming, and truly lovely people. While also acknowledging that the last minute changes were a burden to the staff (later dinners which pushed staff dinner even later, last minute early breakfasts, etc.)
I ended up becoming good friends with the two girls, Meghan and Gemma, as the three of us would just look at each other confused. They were great to work with, as we would acknowledge the frustration, then move on and try to figure out a solution. We also, towards the end, just giggled at the ridiculousness in communication. That's all you can do at some point; just laugh!
I really grew in letting go of what the French thought of me. I tried my best to be helpful when I could, but otherwise focused the rest of my energy on the kids. There were many other logistical plans that fell through (such as not exchanging euros or buying tickets to the wrong museum or not planning where to have fifty kids eat lunch), but from Wednesday on I loved seeing how the kids grew in confidence. They continued to crack me up and I was so proud of their reaction to being in a different country! A few of them even tried to speak English with cashiers. For, after all, the kids were why we traveled to England! Many missed their parents, hearing French, and their baguettes. I'm not joking about that last one. Yet they embraced the adventure and experience. I loved working with them as little lights went off when I translated something.
The Lord gave me the strength and perseverance to step into love. If love does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and keeps no record of wrongs, if love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres, then at it's core, a diplomat's job is to negotiate how to love the other.
Other Updates:
I was so sick after England. The night of my birthday, my body crashed and I was really sick for a week. I still have a lingering cough.
I finished the teaching program! April 22nd was my last official day.
I was accepted into the teaching program for next year, placed in the Academie de Paris, so placed in Paris proper. Please be praying for my heart in surrendering to the Lords plans for next year... Paris is beautiful, but after about a month....phew.
In April, I was praying for:
What to do for Easter/my birthday. I ended up serving at Hillsong with the kids worship team, going out to lunch with friends from church, then coming home to dinner with the family.
Masters degree applications. On April 17th, I submitted applications to four different schools in France. It was a struggle. But I knew if I did not submit even some, I would regret it.
If I should stay longer in France, or leave in May. I decided I was ready to be home and be rejuvenated, (and save some money.)
I am Still Praying for:
My transition home
Next steps for the upcoming year
The hearts of the people in France, that they would release needing to be right, needing to complain, that they would turn to the Lord as their redeemer and ultimate source of hope and joy.
Comments