It's going to be a long semester.

First and foremost, we've got to talk about school. It's been a huge debate for decades - whether or not the benefits of socialized education trump its downfalls, or at least enough to gain superiority over privatized education. I've gone over it for hours in my head and aloud with other students and French people, and everyone comes up with the same bland arguments. And I get it. Public education is great because it's virtually free, there aren't really any requirements to get in, and there's a relatively big variety of subjects to choose from. However - and that's a monumental 'however', because it's free, because anyone can go, because there's so much to choose from, you end up with classes filled with unmotivated students who don't do their work, talk through class, and throw things at each other. Seriously. It feels like I'm back in high school, because that's kind of what it is. The professor wasted half an hour of a one and a half hour class by taking roll, handing back papers, and yelling at students. Only a third of the class was actually usefull, but it's not like I could've taken notes on anything, even if I wanted to, because the girls next to me were giggling like idiots and cursing the professor under their breath. YOU'RE IN COLLEGE. Shut your trap and learn. The professor even had to go on that whole "I'm just here to guide you, you have to do the work" spiel after she'd learned that almost no one did the assignment from last week. Look, if you don't want to be there, leave. But if you don't want to end up at Monoprix, Quick or the ubiquitous MacDo, grow up, go to class, and shut the fuck up while everyone's trying to take notes.

I do have to say, kids at Paris IV are better than at Paris III, which I don't completely understand. Education in France is basically free. I'm pretty sure students can go wherever they want in the public system once they choose a field of study. So do all of the slackers just mysteriously end up at Paris III, and the studious ones at Paris IV? Or maybe it's a Darwinian process. I'm going with that option, considering the hell you have to go through to get registered and find your classes. The system is such a bureaucratic nightmare, full of red tape, forms, and insupportable women at the 8,004 different registrars who never want to help you. Thankfully, we American students don't really count, so this time I didn't have to register. Instead, I'm kind of just flying under the radar, so as far as Paris III and IV are concerned, I don't really even exist. It's so much easier that way. I didn't have to get in line at 8 in the morning to register, only to find all the classes I wanted to take were closed. But that's not really interesting, so let's talk about something else.

Now, could someone tell me what coked-out, sadistic 18th century architect designed the ridiculously confusing and frustrating labyrinth that is the Sorbonne? And then tell me whose idea it was to block off half the hallways so you have to go up and down three stairwells - and three flights each, mind you - just to find the right hallway? I must admit, it's nice going to school in a place like the Sorbonne, someplace that's been around for so long and really feels like an institution, in the non mental asylum sense of the word. It kind of makes me feel like I go to Hogwarts, and it definitely reminds me that I'm in France, that I'm in a 1300 year old city with traditions and a set way of life. And when I emerge from that legendary cour d'honneur in the fifth, I feel a bit more like I belong and finally like one of the cool kids. Well, that is, until a girl at Paris III literally points and laughs at me while I'm waiting for the elevator and manages, in a matter of milliseconds, to undo every bit of self-therapy and confidence building I've done for the past ten years.

Basically the story goes like this: My friend and I were waiting for the coffin they like to call an elevator, which is supposed to hold three people at a time. Why they couldn't put in an elevator that actually serves its purpose is beyond me - it's a relatively modern building, so there aren't any tiny, narrow, spiraling staircases to negotiate (unlike my apartment building). Anyways, a group of three girls came up, and one of them got in line while another went for the stairs dragging the other along. The one behind me in line said, "You don't want to wait for the elevator?" The bitch at the stairs replied, while laughing and pointing, "Are you kidding? Look!" In all fairness, she could have just been referring to the line, and not the fact that it would take an extra trip since I could most likely only take one person with me on the way up. But judging by the awkward silence around me, and how people tried to politely look away as if they hadn't heard a thing, I don't think that was what she meant. It shouldn't have done anything to me. I should've just rolled my eyes and scoffed, thinking to myself, making a list of all the reasons I was better than her. But then it happened. My friend and I got into the elevator, then someone else came in, and the weight bell went off. The last woman got out and a lighter person got in. It rang again. The same awkward silence, the same awkward elevator ride up to the fourth floor. At first, I was upset. Kids weren't even that cruel in middle school! Or in elementary school, for that matter. I was distracted all through class and started a downward spiral of self analysis and pity. But then the professor said something that pissed me off, and I had a new reason to be angry. In a nutshell, when my friend and I went to introduce ourselves to her, she told us we weren't good enough, that usually she discourages American students from taking the class because it's too hard for them since French isn't their first language. I don't think she got that we were Masters students, that we speak the language pretty damn well, and that we're both working on translation for our theses - even after we told her all that. Yeah. And you think I have a superiority complex? HA.

I've noticed that a lot, you know. Here, teachers focus on the negative instead of the positive. I don't really know why, but I'm pretty sure it contributes to the lack of motivation on the students' part. Who wants to give a shit if you're just going to get bitched at anyways? The rule here is that you can never get 100%; you can never be perfect. On a scale of 20, 18 is considered the highest grade. They say that the best students will get 18, the professor, 19, and only God is capable of scoring 20. I've actually seen negative scores on dictations and translations. So, again, when you set your students up to think they're never going to be great, why would they want to try? Especially since you can't even express your opinion as a student... but that's a different story, entirely.

Now, I'm not saying the American system is perfect. Obviously, our universities and colleges leave much to be desired when it comes to accommodating everybody. They're over-selective, over-priced, and, in some cases, over-rated. Sometimes I agree with Will: "You dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a fuckin' education you coulda got for a dollah fifty in late chahges at the public library." But then I remember that I'm a lazy brat and a product of that hundred and fifty grand education and I come to my senses and realize that nothing is true for everybody. When the Dalai Lama came to Smith last year, someone asked, "What's the best way to raise kids?" He laughed and said, "First let me have some kids, then I'll get back to you." But then he went on and said that that was a very Western way of thinking, trying to figure out the best way to do something, the easiest route to happiness. And it's true. It's diplomatic and evasive, but it's true. The free system works for some people, while others, like me, need a little (expensive) push from the establishment.

But I still maintain, Western or not, those Paris III girls need to keep their mouths shut before I go angry, bitter fat girl on their asses and sit on their petite, frail, muscle-less French bodies. You know I'll do it.