1956 L'Ecole A Gravenchon

We arrived in Notre Dame de Gravenchon, Normandy, after school had already started.  Even though there were quite a few Americans living there, there was no American school.  Back then, it was a relatively small town in 1956.  My sister didn't go to school, she stayed home.  But I had to go.  There were actually two separate schools, one for boys and one for girls.  

Place de Normandie

Movie Theater

Dentist's office

In between them was the movie house.  I still remember going to see "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves" there.  My dentist's office was also there.  There is a separate post for that.

My parents were disconcerted at first, because we only had a half day on Thursday but we had a half day on Saturday.  That ruined several weekend plans.  

My first day was traumatic.  We had to wear what I call pinafores.  They were uniforms in a way, but we could get our own.  I remember I had one that was gray with big pockets, and another that was yellow (the worse possible color for my sallow complexion), but my favorite one was plaid.  We would leave them at school all week and take them home on Saturday to be washed.  It reminded me a little of school in Australia, where we also had to wear pinafores, but they were standardized navy blue.

L'Ecole des Filles (Girls' School)

The first day, I went to the principal's office and she escorted me to class.  She spoke a little English, which helped.  However, my teacher spoke none, and neither did any of the students.  My classroom was upstairs.  There were probably 20 or 25 girls my age in the class.  The teacher's name was Madame Binel.  She looked Italian, with black hair and eyes, and a round face with pink cheeks.  She was really nice.  She put me in the front row and gave me a composition book and pencil and helped me not feel totally self conscious (well, tried to).  

At recess though, it was awful.  There was an interior courtyard with a covered area with wooden walls.  Most of the girls went over there and juggled balls against the wall, using 2 or 3 balls.  I just sat on a wooden bench feeling totally lost.  Then gradually more and more girls came over and started talking to me.  They were trying to be friendly, but they terrified me.  It seemed like there were thousands of girls screaming at me, yelling "Comment tu t'appelles?  Comment tu t'appelles?" ("What is your name?", or more correctly, "What are you called?").  Looking back, I realized that it wasn't as bad as it seemed, they probably were very nicely trying to make me feel welcome.  

I thought the day would never end.  I had no idea what anyone was saying.  I did do some arithmetic at least.  But even that was strange.  The division was done totally differently from what I was used to.  

When I got home that day, my mother was dying to hear about my day.  I was just dying to be left alone.  

However, Colette, our teenage maid/helper, had made my "gouter" which is an afterschool snack.  It almost never varied from that day on - a big bowl of hot chocolate, and a large piece of French bread covered with butter.  Then I would dunk the bread into the hot chocolate, which would soon leave an oil slick in it.  When it was too hot out for the hot chocolate, she made me a big piece of buttered French bread smothered in cocoa.  It was always a problem eating it when I was on our swing because the cocoa would blow off.

 So I went to school all week, and amazingly, by Sunday, I couldn't wait to go back.

Within a month, I was chattering away in French, to my parents' amazement.  

One thing I remember well is that when it was time for grades, Mme. Binel would call out a list of scores and we had to add them and average them to get the grade.  I was very often the first to get the answer.  The best part was if the grade turned out to be in the top 5 of the class, after we gave the answer, she would say whose grade it was.  For example, she would call out 10 or 12 numbers, we would add them, and the average would be 86.  She would say, "Right!  That grade is 86, which is a B, and it belongs to -- Mlle Fay!"  My first semester I came in 2nd in the entire class.  My friend Anne* was usually #1.  

I really loved school.  There were some things I had to relearn, like how to write the date.  In American, it's written 9/4/1947.  In Europe it's written 4/9/1947.  Numbers themselves are written differently.  And division really threw me.

 The textbook we used was called "Au Pays Bleu" ("In the Blue Country)".  I have a copy still.

We did awesome things like embroidery and needlepoint.  I made my mother a perpetual calendar that was all embroidered with animals and flowers.  There were 31 little fabric squares with numbers embroidered on them with velcro on the back.  

My favorite class was pottery.  We made dishes and bowls and fired them and then painted them with Normand designs.  Occasionally, I see dishes with this kind of pattern and I am thrown into a time warm, like the earth is moving below me.  That class, and the art class, were the reasons for our aprons, or pinafores.

Another thing we did each year that I loved was to keep a notebook where we wrote reviews of books we had been read, or films we had seen in class.  We would also drawn an illustration on each page.  These notebooks were given to us at the end of the year and were a perfect recreation of what we had learned.

Classroom windows, year 2.

The second year my teacher was Madame Hochard.  She was very strict and ferocious looking, thin and stern.  She was the opposite of Mme. Binel.  But I loved her too.  She seemed intimidating but she was a softy.  I'll never forget one afternoon the entire school was called together and told that Mme. Binel had found out she was very sick and was leaving, never to return.  It was a shock because Mme. Hochard always looked like she was on death's door, whereas Mme Binel looked so healthy.  

My mother was very upset and made her some cookies and wrote her a nice note, thanking her for being so kind to me.  When I gave it to Mme. Binel, she cried.  So did I.   

It didn't take me long to be able to juggle against the wooden wall with three balls.  The thunk of the balls hitting that wood was very satisfying.  I spent hours doing it, singing this song.  I think it's about Napoleon.

J'ai ete dans plusieurs batailles

Sans avoir ete blesse

En Russie comme en Espagne

C'est the ciel qui m'a protege

En arrivant sur le Mont Blanc

J'ai laisse couler mon sang

Si je meurs je veux qu'on m'enterre

A la porte du Pantheon

Et je veux qu'on mette sur ma tombe

Un bouquet des quatres saisons

Printemps, ete, automne, hiver

Printemps, ete, automne, hiver

Juggling

            

*    Anne's full name was Anne Van Languermershe.  Her dad was German and Anne had a horse. That was all I needed to know.  I developed a mad crush on her instantly.  I never did go to her house, unfortunately.  And we weren't really friends except in my imagination.