200. Exam supervision (the French way) part 1

I drag my feet as I have to be ready for 7:30 (7:30!!). My friend/neighbour/colleague will knock on my door and we shall make our way together towards the exam rooms. I think it is better if I am accompanied this way. My friend is a lot more reliable than I am and will prevent me from going astray. On top of that it is raining heavily and I have no umbrella. My friend has a beautiful rainbow-coloured one. We reach the school (now renamed centre d'examens) and she knows where she is going and I don't! I have to rummage around in my bag to locate the bit of paper (the ordre de mission).

It says: rendez-vous in room 223. Honestly!

This, to me, means that I have to go to room 223 and that once there I will meet someone and that this someone will tell me where to go. It makes me feel like I am on some kind of treasure hunt. It makes me happy to be working for the Education Nationale. They obviously take great care in trying to make us enjoy our job.

But when I get to room 223 there is no-one there to rendez-vous with. Huge disappointment. I double-check the bit of paper and the number on the door. I am definitely in the right place at the right time. I take a good look around and decide that the best place to set up camp (this is a 4-hour exam!!) is at the back of the class by the window. I am still excepting Mr Prince Charming to walk in and I have a good view of the door ...  as soon as I am settled and staring in expectation towards the entrance the colleague I hate the most walks in! The one I had a run-in-with a short time after arriving at this school. Huge disappointment. So I sulk. He says bonjour and I mumble some random syllables back. I can't even look at him, I still bear a grudge about that run-in over a year ago and just being in the same room as him for 4 hours (4 hours !!) makes me want to throttle him. And that would be mostly unprofessional. So I work hard on keeping myself still and calm. There is a welcome diversion when all the kids come in and Mr Not-Prince-Charming gets all agitated, filling in dozens of forms and going round the classroom to monitor more forms filling-in (reminder: we are in France). I just sit and sulk at the back of the classroom.

The exam has not even started that one (lazy) teen asks if he can leave the room after he's handed in his paper.

'No, our Local Education Authority does not allow this.' Mr Not-Prince-Charming sounds professional and sure of himself. I am still sulking and think that this kid knows something we don't. 

We give out the exam papers (he's shoved some my way). Lazy teen looks at his and then slumps on his desk. He may as well have a little nap. After all he's got four hours to take the philosophical question in hand. Plenty of time.

The room goes quiet. All we can hear is the scratching of the pens and the chirping of the birds. Now and again I walk up and down the room and weave in and out of the desks but mostly I just sit at the back and sulk. Now and again I watch my colleague. Mostly, he is fiddling with the computer. He is wearing an ugly pair of trekking trousers, ugly shoes and a ghastly shirt with geometrical patterns in garish colours. Soon a second man comes in (maybe in search of his rendez-vous) and he too has picked a horrible shirt (more geometrical patter, more garish colours). I am wondering if I've missed something; maybe today is Horrible Shirt Day? I want to tell them not to stand so close to each other, that their shirts are clashing distastefully, could they take them off please? Again, that would be mostly unprofessional.

Instead I decide to pace the room and weave around the desks for a little while. Sometimes I count my steps. 6 steps to horrible man. 4 steps to lazy teen. I go to the window. I go to the door and check the corridor and notice there is no corridor person. (I am stuck in here for four hours!) I look over the kids' shoulders as they plod on through the sujet de philosophie.

'Are we responsible for the future?'

'Can talking be a means of eradicating violence?

'Is our unconscious knowledge-proof? 

I am not even making this up. So as you can imagine there is a lot of head-scratching and pencil-chewing. I walk around and check how they are getting on. Not very well. I see they are writing things like: 'Spontaneously one can say that' or 'We can be certain that animals do not have a conscience' or again 'First of all before the future there is the past' ...

I am glad I am not a philosophy teacher.

Suddenly Mrs Littleboss comes in. She has some important information. She speaks far too loud and this creates a welcome disruption amongst the philosophers. I have to get up and stand at the front and give them the mum's special stare. Until Mr Not-Prince-Charming clears his throat again.

'Contrary to what I told you at the start, you are allowed to leave the room once you have handed in your paper: special last-minute order from our Local Education Authority.'

He looks pleased with himself. He can be. This has a really powerful effect on the kids: those who were asleep sprawled on their desk wake up, those who were doodling and dreaming straighten up and all of them start to scribble away furiously; suddenly they know who is responsible for the future and they know all about the unconscious ...  Discussion definitely prevents violence. No need to scream and  threaten, no need to wave your pencil around like a sword, just ask the right questions and wait! Freedom comes to those who sleep. Within a quarter of an hour the room has emptied itself and only four remain, then three, then two and then there were none and I was out for an early lunch and I went home wondering what my afternoon would be like.

For a better grasp of the French Education system you might want to refer to the following posts:

Teacher or special agent? The Back at work series or Une heure de ma vie de prof and more