Primary school felt like a race in which I started a kilometre behind everyone else. When I learned to run faster, so did everyone else; there was no way I could finish first. No matter what I did, I was always behind. There were 260 pupils in the year, and most years I was the only person who didn’t have at least one French-speaking parent.

Thinking for yourself was highly encouraged: the label ‘mouton’ which means ‘sheep’ was frequently used as an insult. We were taught to question everything, to never take anything at face value. Teachers were constantly keeping you on your toes; they would ask trick questions wanting you to mess up. Questioning authority was encouraged: if you didn’t agree with something said in class or you thought a rule put in place was unfair, you were to question it. This could perhaps be part of the reason why French people always seem to be on strike. We discussed politics; when we voted for class ‘President’ we had proper ballot cards and boxes and it was to be a secret vote. Obviously, at the end of the day, like any school, it was a glorified popularity contest. Still however, we learned in depth about how voting and democracy worked, encouraging children to stand up for their rights and engage in politics. This made me perhaps a slightly untrusting person, and also caused me to always be alert, to never take anything at face value.

Our P4 teacher specifically did not shy away from controversial and heavy hitting topics. He taught around 24 eight-year-olds the n-word and racist concepts. He taught this in the context of letting us eight-year-olds know how serious and horrible an offence using language like that is; still, if that happened at a primary school in Scotland it would likely spark outrage amongst parents. Again, this teacher taught our class in depth about various celebrities’ drug habits, alcoholism and suicide, which I would argue is not incredibly relevant or appropriate for P4s. I think it certainly made us a lot less naive, exposing us to a much darker side of the world. However, again, P4s should be focusing on learning their time tables and not how various celebrities died. While this particular teacher was certainly far more unorthodox than the majority, French school in general certainly treated children as mature and able to handle and understand sensitive topics, which I think is in contrast to Scottish primary schools. Teachers also didn’t shy away from topics like pedophilia, the same teacher telling our class in depth about various pedophiles that he had encountered throughout his life. He definitely shared this with us with good intentions, trying to make us more aware of dangers that could be lurking around any corner, but I’m not sure that he went about it in the right way. I was also in French school around the time the Paris terrorist attacks were happening, and there was certainly a huge fear of terrorism from children across all ages. The attacks were a big deal, casting a shadow on the school even though we were abroad. We discussed the Charlie Hebdo shooting, teachers definitely fully in support of the newspaper’s satirical cartoons, seeing nothing wrong with the cartoon itself. While all of this was arguably not done in quite the right way, it definitely opened our eyes as to how horrible the world could be. Whether or not all of these conversations were quite necessary could certainly be debated. I’d say all of the huge, sensitive topics we talked about taught me a lot about perspectives. It was very clear that even the lives of celebrities weren’t perfect, and that they had struggles too. I think it also introduced the idea that no-one is entirely good, in the same way that no-one is entirely bad.

I think that Scottish primary schools coddle the children a lot more than the French schools. In Scotland, there is a much more inclusive message spread, that no one is stupid and that anyone can succeed if they try hard enough. I also feel that they are a lot less academic, with not much covered in the way of English. When I moved to Scotland, it was pretty much the first time I attended an English-speaking school. Obviously, it was rather different; one thing I was shocked by, however, was that I wasn’t behind in English whatsoever. I expected everyone to be much better than I was, considering I used to only study English for 3 hours a week, but I found that not only was I not behind, I did better in some aspects.

While I think that Scottish schools often aren’t harsh enough on children and don’t expect enough from them, I do think that French school can be too tough on kids. An example being a teacher I had who would throw pens at your head if, like a normal child, your mind happened to drift off. This could end in tears. Furthermore, there was no effort made to help those falling behind; anyone who wasn’t academic was treated differently by teachers. They were constantly screamed at, frequently called imbeciles or idiots. Teachers loved to talk about how the days of tyrannical teachers were over, where you’d have to stand in a corner wearing donkey ears so the class to laugh at you. However, those methods still governed our school: teachers still taught through public humiliation. For example, if someone dropped a stack of books in class or said something they deemed to be idiotic, the teacher would encourage the rest of the class to clap and laugh to embarrass the person. It was reiterated that there was no room for ‘stupid’ students.

Scottish schools place a strong emphasis on community, with assemblies and team spirit. This is in strong contrast to French schools where individuality is highly encouraged, with fierce competition and a heavy figure it out yourself mentality. Yet French school in general, I believe, benefitted me. Sometimes, it’s tricky to know which elements of myself were shaped by French school and which are inherent. I think that my argumentative streak was definitely encouraged and nurtured. Nowadays, I have no shame when asking ‘stupid’ questions, through years of having to inquire about what peers regarded as the most obvious of things. French school also taught me how to work alone, and that I’m capable of learning things that at first seem hopeless. It was a sink or swim environment, where I luckily learned to swim. Others, however, weren’t so fortunate.