Air Mail, The Yale Herald, 11/16/06

A semester in Paris: Putting the study in study abroad
Air Mail

Answering your cell phone in the middle of class is a skill. During my time at the University of Paris III Sorbonne-Nouvelle, I have witnessed two variations on this art form. One involves lowering your head very slowly, wedging the phone between ear and desk and whispering, “Oui?” The other involves answering it as if you were on the street, using a modified indoor voice, hoping the professor doesn’t notice you whispering into your palm. While answering your phone in class is a big no-no in America, in the Parisian university system, there is seemingly no set of rules—unspoken or otherwise—when it comes to how the students conduct themselves in class. I’ve sat next to girls conversing loudly for all two hours of class, people blatantly sleeping on their desks, and countless students furiously texting. Students always sigh a raspy breath of relief half way through class when they finally get their cigarette break and rush to the door, cigarettes and lighters at the ready.

The main reason behind the behavior of the students is that the French education system is nationalized, making it a free-for-all in more ways than one. The college application process, the bane of our senior year, is virtually non-existent for our French peers. Only those applying to the grandes écoles, universities for engineers, and other special schools have a competitive application process. For the rest, all that is required is a Baccalaureat degree and a small tuition fee. The government covers the remainder of their tuition. The system is meant to be egalitarian and allow a higher education for all, but the reality is that life at the universities becomes much more chaotic. It’s also no surprise that the dropout rate is sky-high. The Economist’s recent survey of France placed the dropout rate of a university in Toulouse near 46 percent [“Lessons from the campus,” 10/28/2006]. It’s no wonder that students aren’t paying attention in class. Unlike Yale students, they don’t have to fight to be there.

But even this situation doesn’t fully explain the professor-student relationship. In America, we were all told when we went to college that there would be no hand-holding. We’d be forced to take our educations in our own hands, to seek out help when we need it. The difference into Paris is that there seems to be hardly anywhere to go to seek help. Students and professors are almost never on a first-name basis. Some of my professors are utterly shocked when I come up to them and ask them questions at the end of class. During the orientation for my study abroad program, we had to take courses on methodology for literature, art history, and history. Each assignment, whether it’s a dissertation, commentaire composé, or exposé, has a strict format in both visual presentation and content, and students are expected to approach the assignment in the same way. I am still shocked at how much of what we learn here has to do with regurgitating the lecture and at how little creativity is involved. It takes some getting used to, but in the end, it seems much easier than anything I’ve had to do at Yale.

Another huge difference is the way courses and lectures are organized. The French approach to education is cemented in a strict structure wherein the method of teaching is standardized by discipline. When my professor steps into the classroom he begins lecture right away, and when he is finished speaking, he packs up his briefcase and is on his way. At the first class meeting, the professor hands out a very rough syllabus, and what is known as a bibliography. Unlike at Yale, where readings are outlined by week and assignment number, French students are given a list of books that apply to the course. In theory, they are meant to choose books that are relevant to their work for the semester from this list and use them to complete assignments, and the essays and work they have to complete over the semester may or may not have a listed due date. This whole process has given new meaning to the phrase laissez-faire. French students are used to this, especially since they have to choose their major right out of high school, and can’t take classes in other disciplines. The things I have had trouble adjusting to are old-hat for Parisian students.

One thing I am grateful for is that once I got past all the confusing elements of my classes at Paris III, I found that the content of the courses I’m taking is very good. I can’t say great, because all of my courses are for first year students, so they tend to be surveys. I chose first-year classes because I have to take them in French, so it’s easier on my listening comprehension skills (which I’m proud to say, have improved dramatically after two months of total immersion). Although the system can be very frustrating, it’s definitely a worthwhile experience—I’m forced to self-motivate in a way I’ve never had to before. But if there’s one thing my time here has made me realize, it’s how eternally grateful I am for the American education system. I can’t wait to get back to Yale, where I can e-mail my teachers, know exactly how much work I have, and enjoy a passion and enthusiasm for learning that only a few French students I’ve encountered have exhibited.







© 2004 The Yale Herald | The Herald is an undergraduate publication at Yale University. | Please see the Contact page to reach us.