Ramsey - French by heart: an American familys adventures in La Belle France

PROLOGUE

La Rentre

Parents, children, said the stern directrice, standing in the school courtyard in front of the teachers. It is my something to something you, something to a something something something. I am very happy to something something, these teachers something something.

What was she saying? I watched the other mothers and copied them.

The teachers looked stiff, trying to smile at the crowd and yet appear dignified. Most had very short hair, some dyed in unnatural colors. I had seen hair like that all over France and had told my husband, Todd, how great it was that the French felt absolutely free in their sense of style. But now, seeing it on a teacher, purplish red hair disturbed me.

We werent in South Carolina anymore. I smiled at my children as if this were just an ordinary first day of school at Cottonwood Elementary, where all the teachers were sweet and had southern accents, except for one foreigner who was maybe from Ohio.

I looked around the crowd of parents and children. Two French boys in knickers and kneesocks wrestled on the asphalt as their skinny mothers, stylish in their skirts and pointy-toed shoes, pulled them up by their ears, fussing at them and pointing at the teachers. The boys instantly tucked in their shirts and stood straight. Little girls and boys from all over the courtyard flitted to their mothers. Even the little French babies, bundled up as if it were winter, stopped whining and began gumming their passies obediently.

Then teachers began stepping forward and calling out names. I watched as they lined up their children, spoke to them firmly, and disappeared with them through the huge doors. A few of the little ones had to be pulled off their mothers. We could still hear them screaming inside. I willed myself not to cry.

It would be Bens turn soon. My little first-grader, going off to French school. How would he know what to do? I tried to distract myself by pretending to look around casually. There was the enormous school gate. Why was it so tall and reinforced with huge sheets of metal? Were they bolted on for strength, lest the children unite and try a battering ram in their attempt to escape? Or maybe it was to keep the mommies out. I wasnt sure.

Ben tugged at my hand. A teacher was calling again for Benjamin Ramsey. With the accent, I hardly recognized the name.

Oh, I said, flustered. Have a great day. I squeezed his hand and gave him the most positive, encouraging smile I could muster. He walked to the back of the line and waved at me, looking so small. I watched his teacher give the children instructions, and then they marched away from me and through the school doors. I waved again, but he didnt see me.

Sarahs class was next. Fourth grade foreign students at cole Saint-Pierre were put in a class of their own before being thrown in with the French kids. Nevertheless, her teacher insisted on speaking French to the bewildered children, who looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. Sarah waved goodbye to me nervously, I blew her a kiss, and she followed the group inside.

I stayed there on the asphalt for a few more seconds, holding on to Sams stroller, still projecting calm and confidence in case Sarah looked back before the door closed. But she didnt.

WERE WE REALLY doing this? I had been thinking about this day for months, wondering how the children would react. From the very first time Todd asked me what I thought about the move, I had been picturing the first day of French school. When it came time to tell the kids about our big impending adventure, Todd and I had been nervous. Their lives of school and friends and soccer and church in sunny Greer were so happy and predictable. What would they think?

We decided to take them out to dinner to tell them. We figured that if moving to France made them happy, we could celebrate, and if it didnt, they probably wouldnt throw a fit in front of people.

Weve got some special news! we announced to Ben and Sarah after we settled into our booth at the Dogwood Caf.

We ordered, the waitress brought us our tea, and Todd cleared his throat. You know how Daddy has to go to France sometimes on business trips, and you know how sometimes I bring you things back, and how we always said that maybe one day, wed all get to go?

You mean were going? Sarah said, clapping her hands. Were going for spring break?

Ben didnt look up, but just kept rolling his Matchbox car back and forth across the table. Sam slumped in his high chair, sucking loudly on his sippy cup.