Around the World...and then some

Final Exam Crisis

You know, this post was supposed to read "I'm done with finals! After a quick, fun trip to Germany, I'm going home! All is wonderful!" However, it is not going to read anywhere near that. After yesterday, it also could read as one long rant about the insane French school system. However, it's not going to read like that either. Mostly because I think if it did, it would continue for so long that every single one of you would stop reading at some point. So instead, I've decided to make it a cultural commentary. Yes, a commentary. That's a good, neutral word, right? Let me begin by setting the scene...

Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling kind of crappy. I had two tests to take that day, though, so I got dressed and walked to the bus stop anyway. After about 10 minutes on the bus, not quite halfway to school, I was feeling so nauseous that I had to get off. Luckily, I was right near Amanda's house, so I called her and stopped by. In the end, I think it was that feeling where you get so hungry that you actually feel sick (I hadn't had breakfast yet and was planning on getting it once I got to school). But so I slowly had water and bread, and after half an hour or 40 minutes was finally starting to feel better. By now, though, it was at least half an hour past the start of my exam and seeing as French teachers do not look kindly on late-comers, I sent my teacher an e-mail explaining the situation and asked her when I would be able to make it up. At this point I wasn't terribly worried - my teacher is very nice, and the Linguistics department on the whole seems pretty accommodating, mostly just because it is so small. Anyway, after having some lunch and studying for a while at Amanda's, I was feeling much better and got on the bus to go to my second final of the day. Here's where the story gets interesting. I arrived at the room only to find another class in there taking an exam that was definitely not mine. Having no clue what to do, I ran around for about 15 minutes to various offices and rooms and bulletin boards, trying to figure out if my room had been changed or something. I finally went to the Administrative office, where they had no idea what I was talking about, but did find on the exam schedule that there were two exams, mine and a film class, assigned to the same room at the same time. Two women then decided to help me, and I followed them around for about another half an hour to various offices, and we finally determined that the room for my exam had been changed. I had not been told, however, because the French kids all had 3 exams at once, while I was only taking the second of the three. So they had all arrived hours before me, and were informed of the room change. I, on the other hand, arrived for my exam and no one was there to let me know. At this point, however, I was 45 minutes late to my hour-long exam, and the women informed me that I would just have to return Wednesday (Not tomorrow, of course, because everything's closed tomorrow. I still have yet to figure out why.) to talk to the department secretaries to reschedule my exam. What I did not tell them is that I am supposed to be leaving for London this evening, to meet up with Becca and then fly to Germany with her to see Katie. So Germany trip? Cancelled. My last week in Poitiers? A whole lot less fun than I had hoped.

So here's where this post turns into a "cultural commentary" and no, not a rant. The French like to complain. When they find something that is wrong or stupid, they jump on it and talk about it for at least 20 minutes. Not that they're going to do anything to change this stupid thing, but they'll tell you everything about it that makes no sense. So my favorite part of yesterday was how we spent 15 minutes in each office we arrived in discussing how on earth this could possibly have happened. How could two exams have been scheduled in one room? How did no one notice that? Why was I not informed? Why didn't they change it before this morning? And on and on and on, as I was standing there wishing someone would just do something to get me to the right classroom. But no, we had to discuss. (Well, and not to mention the fact that we'd have to go to 5 more offices because God forbid anyone communicates anything to eachother.)

I also discovered the best way to get my family to talk to me last night - give them something to complain about. Sitting down at the dinner table, they asked me how my exams went today, or if had any, and I explained that I was supposed to, but then didn't. And suddenly, they all seemed almost as frustrated as I was when the whole thing was going on. They declared it outrageous and unbelievable, and how could I have not been told? Apparently, the same thing happened to Renault, my host cousin, while he was in England. The international students just are not always told of things, and it's just ridiculous! How could that be?! My host dad even suggested that if anything else goes wrong in the least, I should write immediately to the president of the college, because it is just that unbelievable. For the first time since I got here, I felt as though they honestly cared about what was happening to me. All we needed was a mutual enemy, apparently. And not even mutual, but just one that they felt like complaining about as well.

posted by Becky @ 5:07 AM