Culture Shocks in the French Education System 

The education system in my country is funny. 

To date, I still ask myself why teachers punished me for walking calmly to the washroom instead of running. Or why they disciplined me for not covering my books in brown paper.

To start with, private primary schools in Kenya hold an ‘elite’ status. They charge annual fees, unlike the free public schools. Even more, kids in these private schools tend to highly perform in national exams. Most of them get spots in the ‘best’ high schools.

This is why I flat-out refused to return to my public school once I realized my brothers had been transferred to a private school. If my brothers could have it, why couldn’t I? 

You see, these are the struggles of being a middle child, parents easily overlook you. The older and younger siblings tend to cause enough trouble to keep parents busy, leaving the middle child in their own world.  

I’m telling you, without having an assertive stance of my needs, my parents would assume everything is fine. They’d think I don’t need anything.  

And just like that, I gained the ‘elite’ status of being in a private school. It might sound fancy but that status comes with a heavy cost. 

Before I explain why and how, it’s important for you to know that in my country, disciplining kids with strokes is not big news.  

The education system allows teachers to give students strokes either on the palm of the hand or on the sitting apparatus, I mean the behinds, okay the mountainous area on your back. If you still don’t get it, forget about it. 

This form of discipline is much more common in private schools than in public ones.  

Many people believe this relentless punishment is one of the reasons private schools perform better. I don’t know if that’s true. 

Well, I got what I asked for. I had to adjust to routines of being on time every day, completing homework, speaking only in English at school (a huge task back then, yoh!), and doing fortnight exams that always terrified me. 

Failing to meet any of these standards led to strokes, not the smooth “spanking” type, but actual strokes that left bumps, making it uncomfortable to sit for a few hours. 

It gets crazier. 

We had days when teachers checked our books to see if we had covered them in brown paper, if the books had folded tips, and if we had all the notes correctly. 

One time, during a random inspection, I became a victim of circumstance.  

As a consequence, one of the most feared teachers let my cheek rest on his left hand, gently caressed the other cheek and landed a slap so hard that I saw stars and heard ringing in my ears for the rest of the day. 

As if that was not enough. Receiving results was a nightmare for me, more than the exams themselves.  

First, teachers would beat you for not reaching your overall target marks, then individual teachers would punish you for not hitting the target in their subjects. During revisions, if a question covered in class showed up on the exam and you still missed it, you’d be beaten again.  

Just when the whole ordeal was over, another exam was around the corner.  

By the time you finish school, strokes become so normal that they hardly scare you. Instead of crying when you get one, you find yourself laughing as you watch others receiving theirs: free therapy. 

That’s why when I came to France, I couldn’t help but laugh.  

I was amazed by how primary school teachers handle discipline here. If a kid is stubborn or noisy, they simply tell them to sit in a corner and face the wall. Like this is the worst punishment for kids. When they face the wall, you see them frown and sulk because they’ve been “disciplined.” 

I’d hear teachers raise their voices at kids, and I felt for them because that’s all they’re allowed to do. Yelling is the main form of discipline, and it’s lucky if the students even respond.  

There’s so much more freedom here for kids, and the system seems to prioritize that freedom, which limits how much authority teachers have. 

Back in my school, you wouldn’t hear teachers shouting. Instead, it was the sound of strokes echoing through the halls.  

Some kids had it even worse because their parents supported this approach. We’d have academic or disciplinary meetings where a kid would get strokes from both the parent and the teacher. 

Seeing kids being pampered here amazes me at how differently we are brought up. 

Life is funny.