so begins our – my co-worker’s and i – after-lunch, tea-drinking, vaguely politically, half-en anglais, mostly-cultural exploration of misconceptions provided by the media.
Celine, secretary of the sociolgy department, says to me “you know there are people that think they didn’t!”
i challenge her, say “do you believe that?”
“no,” she says. “that’s crazy. but there are crazy people in this world.”
i reply “yes, those are the same people that think World War Two didn’t happen and Hitler didn’t really exist.”
“what about September 11th?” she ventures.
shocked and not knowing how to proceed, i become suddenly extremely patriotic and i say “you’re really going to ask me that?”
even Vincent, administrative assistance in potical science with anarchist leanings, seems surprised. he says, in a hurried n’ mumbled french “you should know better than to ask an american that.”
“i think it’s too recent in history to question these things,” i say by way of conclusion, suddenly aware of all the emotions that this topic has stirred up and the stories i’ve heard over the years that have haunted me.
it is becoming clearer and clearer to me, the more time i spend here, just how American i am, not only via my passport, but via how i choose to identify myself. i told Lucile, my co-worker semi-supervisor, the other day that when i speak French, i lower my volume and everything i say suddenly becomes much more polite and formal.
she responded “but you speak quite loudly normally” because we converse in both. i felt the need to clarify, “in English, yes. but that’s so American.”
yesterday Elizabeth, a new friend from Yale, and i came to the conclusion that it was far too difficult to check out books from the library, like the French have a mentality that knowledge should be earned and thus terribly difficult to acquire, as though by proving one’s worth one can attain to access to basic resources like books. in an academic setting!
it’s absurd!
“they don’t want anything to change. they complain about everything that doesn’t work but when you suggest that maybe they update the system (you know, by observing the fact that it’s the 20th century and scholastic institutions update their website content regularly and have online databases), they are stubborn and say things like “well, that’s how it’s always been. it’s France.”
like, does that help explain? are you content like this?
a recent graduate of the masters program at Université Paris8 recently nodded at my commentary of the situation i have been noticing during my internship. she says “yes, the French love to complain. it’s part of our character.” then she smiled as if to say tant pis, which is to say “these things will never change!”
somedays, it makes me just want to grab the nearest administrator i see and shake them by the collar scruff and plead with them: “things don’t have to stay this way! look around you!”
my shtick is networking and alumni connections, forming partnerships between neighboring institutions that have similar ideals and objectives, having students working on their doctral theses reach out to former students in an interest to further their research and create collaborations that are both effective and stimulating.
Fatima, five doors down the hall from me, agrees with me. she used to work in my department for 20 years as an administrator. she nods solemnly as i explain my frustration with this stubborness, this lack of interest in embracing the present and using the global connections as allies.
“i agree with you,” she begins, “it’s a good idea. but good luck.” and again, like a word to the wise, a cautionary tale: “this is France afterall.”
– –
a question to my readers, especially those having spent time abroad in France (in any capacity, whether as a student, traveling, or even just visiting):
what have your experiences been? who have you spoken to? is this an unfair analysis?
pushpinature 