A big day today in France, the biggest in the lives of some 700,000 French high school seniors: the posting of the results of the baccalaureate exams they took the third week of June. One week of exam hell: mostly essays, a few orals, no multiple choice. A French rite of passage, which every Frenchman and woman who has finished high school has experienced. It’s a big news story during bac week and the announcement of the results leads the TV news—as it did this evening—, with reports of scenes like this. I was particularly concerned by it this year—and above all today—as my daughter was one of those high school seniors (all went well). As a pure product of the American educational system I never experienced the ritual of the bac. Most American high school seniors, having already been accepted into college, spend the last semester laying back and having a good time (at least in my day). Not in France, where seniors study like they’ve never studied in their lives in the months leading up to the bac.
One aspect of the French practice here that used to rub my American sensibilities the wrong way—before I became sufficiently integrated into French society—was the public posting of the exam results: of who passed—and with what mention—, who goes to rattrapage, and who failed (the names of the latter unhappy few not figuring on the list). But there’s no reason not to post the results so all can see, as anyone who cares will know how one did anyway and diplomas and honor rolls are public information everywhere, including the US. Again, it’s a generational rite of passage.
There is some debate in France about reforming the bac, indeed doing away with it altogether. Normally I would think this is crazy, as the bac is so central to the French educational system—to its very identity—, focuses the minds of late teens in the way nothing else can, and, once again, is a rite of passage. But then Le Monde had an article last month on one issue I hadn’t considered, which is the sheer cost of administering the exam, which will be close to €100 million this year. The cost has skyrocketed, mainly because the masses of teachers who read and grade the exams are being paid more. The question is if this cost can be justified, particularly when upwards of 85% of those who take the bac get it (and where the mention is of little to no consequence for most). And then there’s the inevitable subjectivity involved in the grading of the essays, which I took note of today in the case of my daughter and then read in this account by a teacher who’s a part of the process. One solution would be to move toward multiple choice exams for most of the subjects (though not philosophy), i.e. a standardized test à l’américaine. This would be a cultural revolution for the French educational system and bound to be resisted, as writing out the answer to a question—in full, grammatically correct sentences and on whatever the subject—is central to French education (and in the case of math, showing how one arrived at the right answer, not just getting the right answer). And it’s one of the system’s strengths, as the French grosso modo write in their language far better than Americans do in theirs. This is an incontestable fact and which is reconfirmed to me every year in working with American and French students. French students know how to write; the majority of American students do not. But if only the bac went to multiple choice and with the rest of the system remaining as is—et avec contrôle continu renforcé pendant toute la scolarité—, I don’t know what the problem would be. Le débat sera lancé de toute façon…
I teach at a Grande Ecole and see significant differences between French and American students. While I agree that French students, on average, write better than American students, they seem to have very little original things to say. The French students almost viscerally resist looking at things differently and like to stay in their ‘comfort zones’ which I may add, appear to have rather thick lines. On their exams they often just parrot the lectures (and then are astonished to receive an average note). Friends and colleagues, the majority are French (and could be extremely biased), tell me that this is a result of the French educational system where memorization and accurate regurgitation are highly valued.
Mitchell: On French and American students, I wrote about this in a post on February 21st. Here’s the relevant passage
On what you say about French students not having original things to say—unlike American students, presumably—, a few points: First, when I have given my French students (M1 and M2) an article to read and then asked them to critique it—both orally and in an essay—they do so, just as would their American counterparts. Now I do have to make it clear that I am not going to negatively judge their opinions or perspectives. The reluctance of French students to speak out in class or express originality is a consequence of the hierarchical relationship in the classroom and power distance between teacher and student—reflecting a larger syndrome in French culture/society—, not an inability to think originally or critically. On this score, one can hardly argue that the French don’t have an independent, critical spirit. To the contrary (and I will argue, though not here, that grosso modo the French in fact have a greater critical spirit than do Americans).
Secondly, when it comes to undergraduates at least, I, as a teacher, am not interested in their “original” thinking, which, except for the brightest students (and I’ve had a few), invariably involves them expressing ill-informed, off-the-wall personal opinions. I happen to find it most irritating when a saucy 20 year-old starts quarreling with me in the classroom about something I’ve said, or insists on his or her off-the-wall opinion and despite my refutation of it. My reflex is to tell him or her that s/he doesn’t WTF s/he is talking about and to just STFU (which one cannot do with American students, of course, as they would then complain about you to your hierarchical superior and then trash you in the insidious student evaluations). My role as a teacher (again, I’m speaking here of undergraduates) is to impart knowledge to young, fertile minds, not to give them a tribune to sound off and waste everyone’s time.
Third, when one gets to the higher levels of research here, there is a lot of originality. I’ve heard from more than one American chercheur at the CNRS that the conditions of research here are in some ways superior to those in the US, namely in the freedom the CNRS has given its chercheurs to pursue their own interests, whereas research agendas in the US are often driven by the priorities of funding agencies and private industry (American researchers spending an inordinate amount of time writing grant proposals). The situation is complex, of course, and the CNRS is moving in a not very good direction in this respect, but the point is that critical, original thinking is encouraged here.
Arun, I understand what you’re saying and in general I would agree with much of it but I do recall this lovely situation that my daughter found herself after we returned to France from Japan. The prof was teaching the Land of the Rising Sun and made some comments that were factually incorrect. My daughter raised her hand and said so. Now I wasn’t there and I have no idea how my daughter expressed herself but the teacher took it rather badly and basically told my daughter to STFU and asked how in the hell she knew anything about it anyway. My daughter simply said, “I used to live there.” 🙂
Perhaps on occasion the professors need to have a Beginner’s Mind too.
(And the upshot of this, of course, was that my daughter never so much as said one word again in that classroom.)
Victoria, on your daughter’s experience with the teacher and Japan, this is a delicate matter, i.e. of a student (in her teens) informing a teacher (an adult) that s/he is an error and on a subject s/he is supposed to know about. Doing this in the classroom can make the teacher look ridiculous and cause him or her to lose the respect of the students, so it’s not surprising that the teacher would respond with a STFU. Better to tell the teacher (and the other students) after class.
This brings back a memory from when my daughter was in middle school, of her histoire-géo class, in which they were studying the US. The textbook had a passage I found hugely biased (against the US) and with a number of factual errors. I was quite indignant and told my daughter to tell the teacher about it, though which I knew she wouldn’t. So I thought about writing a letter to the teacher expressing my objections and which I did. But I didn’t pass it on to him, as I knew he would not tell the students that the textbook was wrong. It wouldn’t have changed a thing. In this case, better to direct the letter to the publisher (which I probably thought of doing but didn’t).
@Arun, Very nice post and I agree with much of it. Just one note – the mention does indeed matter. When my elder daughter (she passed her bac last year) was accepted to McGill in Canada it was conditional on her getting a “mention bien” on her Bac. No mention, no admission to Mcgill. Interesting, isn’t it?
@Mr. Fink, Just for fun, here is my younger daughter’s take on the French system. Both my daughters are dual French/US citizens but they have been entirely educated in the French system from maternelle to lycée. But they do spend time in the US every summer and have American friends and so they have some idea of what the American system is like. It’s not only that the US system sounds like more fun (less rote memorization) but they have said that they would have liked to have had the chance for more extra-curricular activities like music – something that neither of them really had any time for under the French system.
http://thefranco-americanflophouse.blogspot.fr/2011/04/french-education-view-from-inside.html
Victoria: About the mention, I specified that it does not matter for most students, i.e. for those who are headed to the fac, IUT, or BTS, as admission decisions are driven mainly by the bulletins scolaires of the last two years of lycée. The mention carries more weight for classes prépas and other highly selective programs. For these, TB over a B (or B over AB) can make all the difference.
Interesting about McGill. It probably set the bar high to keep the number of French applicants down, to insure that McGill doesn’t become a refuge for French kids who weren’t admitted to a classe prépa.
On what your (very bright) daughter wrote, I would tell her that she’s fortunate to have learned about all those old philosophers, whom needs to know before going on to more contemporary ones (such as they exist). One of the goals of a French education is to acquire a culture générale, without which one cannot think originally or critically. This is the French educational philosophy, at least, and which I think has merit. As for memorization, I think this is a good and necessary thing (as I wrote above to M.Fink).
Extracurricular activities: these happen in France outside the walls of the school. It would be good if there were more of them in French schools (though, please, not sports).
All this being said, I am not necessarily a partisan of French schools over American. Not at all, in fact. During much of my daughter’s time in primary, middle, and high school here, I felt that she would be better off in an American school and for a variety of reasons I can get into at another time. American public schools in well-to-do communities are very good. One can get a first-rate education in an American school. But it depends on where you live.
All good points, Arun, and I concede that your method would probably have been more effective. What can I say – my daughter definitely got her smart mouth from her Mom. 🙂
As I say, if one has to choose between being timide or fort en gueule, much better to go with the latter… 😉