Sorry, Teacher, but the Mob ate my Homework

On Friday morning, I woke up to the sound of yelling and chanting outside my window. I looked outside to see a mob of students walking down the road around the school, holding picket signs and screaming in unison. There were hundreds of them, lining the streets and circling the school.

Upon leaving my room, the cleaning ladies filled me in on the details: the older students were on strike, opposed to Sarkozy’s new school reform laws, and, according to them, it was “really bad” when the students went on strike.

I went to class as usual, but there were only 12 out of 30 students there. The others were either a part of the protest or were unable to get in because the mob outside had barricaded the school entrance. Once class started, the teacher had to stop for a few minutes to allow his students to peer out the window and wave to their friends. Halfway through the class, the students on strike flooded the hallways, yelling and screaming, and throwing things at the doors as they passed by. But don’t be worried – when the French are on strike, they are rarely violent; more often than not, they just like to be loud and obnoxious in order to get their point across. This became even more evident when one of the protesters pulled the fire alarm, and our class (by law, of course) had to evacuate and wait outside until we were called back in.

So why, you ask, are these students on strike in the first place? First, French President Nicholas Sarkozy and his Minister of Education have proposed new high school reform laws, and students (and some teachers) are against these reforms, hence the protest. But every time I ask what the reforms entail (and, believe me, I’ve asked many times), I get this answer: “Well, Sarkozy is reforming the high schools, and the students don’t like it.” This, to me, is the pinnacle of French logic. I ask what reforms are being made, and they respond with the obvious: the students don’t like the reforms, so they are on strike. I asked a classroom of French students on Friday what the reforms were, and none of them could tell me, which begs the question: do these students even know what they are striking against?

Yesterday, the strike seemed to be a half-hearted effort – at least, from my view. The mob had diminished to around two dozen students or so, but they were still able to barricade a few people outside and not allow them to come in. Apparently, there were trash cans strewn about in front of the school. This is all that I noticed, but according to one of the teachers, threats had been made.

And now today there is no school.

It’s a little like a snow day, only without the snow. The students who live in the dorms with me are required to stay inside, so at 11 am, they are still in their pajamas, watching TV downstairs. The teachers, however, have the more unfortunate day: even though their students are not coming, they are required to be here, since they are being paid to teach today. I, being a mere non-tenured language assistant, have the advantage over everyone in the situation. Not only may I leave the dorm (because I am not a student), I am also not required to stay at the school. So I’m thinking of going into town to watch a movie. Maybe I’ll buy some stuff to make Christmas cards. In either case, I’m the only one free to do whatever I want today. And I like that feeling.