Picture the worst possible nightmare for an active but shy 12-year-old boy. I can imagine that it might involve spending part of your summer vacation in a sweltering classroom filled with unfamiliar students and a teacher whom you have never seen before, taking tests for which you aren’t prepared . . . in a foreign language. In fact, that is how Lucas spent part of last week. Johanna too, although since she is a studious but outgoing 14-year-old girl, the scenario was perhaps marginally less nightmarish.
And what cruel forces conspired to create this torturous situation? Well, as with most torturous situations in which young people find themselves (like consuming lima beans or organizing dresser drawers) this one was precipitated by their mother, that is to say, me. Having decided that just living in a foreign country did not pose a sufficient challenge, I determined that it would be a good idea to gain first-hand experience with an area of Swiss policy into which even the Swiss themselves rarely venture. In short, we decided to homeschool our two younger children. The explanation behind why we decided to do this is not nearly as interesting as the path down which this decision has taken us during the last month or so.
Unlike in some European countries, homeschooling is legal in Switzerland -- at least in Geneva Canton it is. (Independent as the Swiss are, they let the individual cantons make their own laws about things like education.) Still, only about 1 percent of people in the canton choose to take advantage of the opportunity afforded by the law to pursue “l’enseignement à domicile.” This may have something to do with the Swiss mindset about education (more about which below), and it may have something to do with the fact that these people love their children and don’t want to put them through the pain through which I have put my children -- and will need to continue to put them -- in order to meet the Swiss requirements for homeschooling.
So, having decided that we needed a little more excitement in our lives, and having been put in touch with a woman who has homeschooled in Geneva for two decades and could help navigate the system, we began the process. It started innocently enough -- I sent off a letter stating my reasons for wanting to homeschool and the subjects that my children would be studying. I learned two things through this letter. 1. “Accuser réception” is the equivalent of the American “signature confirmation,” and 2. “accuser réception” is quite an expensive service (11 chf). Both things, I felt, were worth knowing. As I sent the letter in August, everyone at the Service de Scolarité was on vacation. Nevertheless, on the very Monday when the staff there was expected to return, I received a phone call from a charming woman whom we will call Madame Rosti, and who has subsequently become an important figure in our lives. Madame Rosti conducted the first part of the conversation in French (one of her great charms in that she has a very comprehensible accent and speaks quite slowly). When she figured out that I was having a difficult time explaining my “motif” for homeschooling in French, she graciously allowed me to switch to English (I tried to be similarly easy to understand). With her speaking French (and a little English) and me speaking English (and a little French), we carried on a pleasant conversation, the upshot of which was that the children would have to take the placement exams for the Geneva Public Schools. I explained, pleasantly, that this would be difficult for the children, as they had only studied French for one year. She replied, pleasantly, that they had to do it anyway, since it was “the first step.” I responded, pleasantly, that I guess if they had to, they had to, but they weren’t going to do very well. And she agreed, all very pleasantly.
Her colleague, whom we will name Monsieur Raclette, was also very pleasant. That is, until I balked (pleasantly though repeatedly) at his insistence that the kids take IQ tests in French. Frankly, I did not feel convinced that the tests would be particularly indicative of their abilities. He called, Lucas answered the phone, and, upon learning that I was not available, Monsieur Raclette proceeded to give Lucas a (possibly not so pleasant) earful about how his mother had no right to think that her children didn’t have to do what all the other children in Geneva had to do. Part of me (the independent American part) wanted to remain firm in my refusal to comply with a request so ridiculous. Another part, however, understood that we were in Rome and had better behave like Romans if we wanted to make any progress. Further, being constitutionally a rule-follower myself, I have a lot of sympathy for the Swiss proclivity for sticking to established procedure.
Thus, the first part of last week was spent in math tests, French tests, and IQ tests (for Luc), Math, French, English, and IQ (for Jo), and many hours in the Service de Scolarité’s cafeteria (for me). In fits of sympathy and guilt, I bought the kids McDonald’s, iced tea, eclairs, and other unusual treats during those two days. Wednesday was a day off, and Thursday we all returned for a meeting with Madame Rosti. The meeting lasted well over an hour, and was conducted, as the telephone call had been, in both English and French, since both of us were more comfortable speaking our native language, but were quite able to understand the other. We did have someone there to translate if necessary (whom I will call Mrs. Tartiflette, since I really want to use another alias here). This definitely made me feel better, even though we didn’t use her services much. Madame Rosti truly seemed like a good person, kind and clearly concerned above all with the welfare of children. Though her experience with homeschoolers was limited, she nevertheless had a generally positive view of the option, provided, of course, that we followed the rules.
Most of the rules are not problematic. I have to fill out forms. The children have to meet with a Geneva-approved nurse, social worker, or child psychologist partway through the year. We have to teach French, English, math, history or geography, and a science. German is a rule, too, but I was able to persuade her that in our particular case, German (though a lovely language) would not be a useful one and would take valuable time away from the other subjects. She wanted the kids to do some kind of P.E. and some kind of art, but seemed content with whatever we proposed in those areas.
The only part of the rules that seems a bit harsh is that in May, the kids have to take what is basically the Geneva equivalent of the Iowa Tests or the SATs. These tests will be, naturally, in French. In lieu of the tests for science and history/geography, they will write papers on a topic that we choose, but which must be at least partly in French. I tried to persuade her that the Iowas or SATs would be a reasonable substitute, but she remained unmoved, informing me, with utmost pleasantness, that they were welcome to do those in addition to the Geneva tests.
As a mom, I am somewhat mixed in my reactions to this requirement. On the one hand, I want my children to learn as much French as they can while they are in Geneva. Having to take tests and write papers in French will certainly be a good motivator. On the other hand, I feel the grip of pity and panic that this might be too much to ask of my sweet babies.
As a detached observer, however, I think I have to come down on Madame Rosti’s side. Geneva is about 40 percent expat. Some people stay for a year or two. Some people stay for 20. For whatever length of time we are here, however, we are part of the society and culture of Geneva. Clearly, it is impossible to have a working society and culture if you do not have a common language. Geneva already has a huge subculture of people who don’t speak French, which has to provide many challenges for the natives. I have no sympathy with my fellow expats who act as though, because there are so many of us, the city should speak our language and bow to our customs. Of course it is frustrating for me when I can’t understand what someone is saying or make them understand me. That, however, is my problem to solve. And what the Service de Scolarité is doing by requiring my children to “be approaching” the maternelle level of French is working toward a solution.
Where I seriously differ with Madame Rosti is in her view of whose responsibility all of this ultimately is. She said something very telling during the meeting, along the lines of: “Homeschooling is built on my trust of you. I am trusting you to provide your children with a good education. I will not come to your house and check, because I trust you.” Well. I’m glad that she trusts me, but how different that is from the mission statement of Mars Hill, which says that the school is there to assist parents in the education of their children. Education is a parental responsibility. The Bible tells us to bring up our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and the choice of how to do that -- and the burden of doing it right -- is ours. If I fail to educate my children well, it’s not Madame Rosti or anyone in the government -- Swiss or American -- to whom I am ultimately accountable, but to God.
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