A Series of Unfortunate Events

I hate to start this entry with the title of a book series by « Lemony Snicket » but regrettably there is no other description that so aptly fits recent circumstances in France. What with the ongoing game of hurry up and wait that I’ve been playing with the French government since October, my fresh change of schools, and the endless meetings and appointments that I’ve been running to since the end of vacation, “unfortunate” is indeed the only word that seems to encapsulate the moment. From here on out, I will italicize everything having to do with unfortunate. (As a quick side-note, the pictures in this entry have nothing to do with the content, but are rather there for simple viewing pleasure…)

May I just take the opportunity to announce that dealing with paperwork in France is complete rubbish. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but it needs to be reiterated – rubbish. After four months of anticipation, I am still awaiting my French social security card that will allow me to see a doctor and get discounted medicine should the need arise. With the way things are headed now, I expect to receive it somewhere around my thirty-ninth birthday. Unfortunately, my visa will no longer be valid at this point, so maybe I should just tell the authorities not to worry about it. Not that they were ever worried to begin with – this might just encourage them to continue doing whatever they were so frantically not doing for the last four months.

This new wave of frustration toward the French paperwork lag has been perfectly (and not surprisingly) timed with the resurgence of appointments that I’ve had to attend since my return to Challans. Like the MGEN, (social security/ insurance entity) the OFII (Office Français de l’Immigration et de l’Intégration) has been processing my paperwork since October. After a similar four-month delay, I got word at the beginning of January that they were ready to receive me for my obligatory medical examination. The appointment (of course) was scheduled for the Friday afternoon of my last day of classes in Challans. Seeing as I cannot legally stay in France without this appointment, I was forced to cancel my last two classes, to my great disappointment and that of my students. Luckily, the appointment itself passed very quickly and I was even received a whole hour-and-a-half before my scheduled time. (Because of the train timetable, I got there two hours early.) I was delighted when I walked out two hours later, right when my scheduled appointment would normally have been starting. The good news is, my x-ray came up negative for tuberculosis and I can thus truly begin living my life as a temporary citizen. So, success number one in this paperwork marathon – I now have the stamp accompanying my visa that authorizes me to leave the Schengen zone and travel to the exotic ends of the earth (like the United Kingdom and other such non-European Union countries.)

My optimism after my OFII appointment was, unfortunately, short-lived. Not five days later, I found myself in the MGEN office in La Roche Sur Yon, asking for the ten-thousandth time why my folder hadn’t been processed yet. Apparently the apostille, a stamp certifying the authenticity of a document, was missing from my birth certificate when I first submitted my paperwork. Instead of explaining directly what this was however, I received no less than four cryptic messages telling me that my document could not be completed because of certain missing elements. Once I finally figured out what these “certain missing elements” were, I had to call in a favor to the US so that the authorities in Colorado could send my birth certificate (with the apostille) to France. *I didn’t really call in a favor. My mom is just really helpful.

Anyways, after these shenanigans, I was finally assured that yes, really, my paperwork would be correctly processed this time. This verbal confirmation means little to me, however, and does not change the fact that an original copy of my birth certificate is floating around in some unnamed folder somewhere. When the woman asked me why I would be so silly as to give an original copy of my birth certificate to the MGEN, all I could do was stare blankly… When I came for my first appointment with them in October, she was the very one that convinced me it was necessary to give them the original copy of my birth certificate. And no, I didn’t misunderstand her then, because she explained that the only way to skip through the proper hoops without delay was to submit original documents. This leaves two possibilities: a) she doesn’t totally understand her job, or b) she doesn’t skip very well.

And now to rewind. If you like the whiny, sardonic tone of this entry, don’t worry, I will continue shortly. If you don’t like the bitter tenor of this entry however, you will be relieved to hear that that last three weeks haven’t been all bad. Indeed, there were teary goodbyes in the middle. The week after vacation marked my last week teaching in Challans. I didn’t realize how attached I’d become to the students or the teachers until it was time for me to leave. My last week of lessons was a smashing success (a US trivia game) which made it all the more difficult to say goodbye. The English teachers hosted a farewell recess for me and we all met up to eat cookies and discuss my time in Challans for the brief 15 minutes that fit into everyone’s schedule. The six of them signed a goodbye card, and then as a parting gift, Véronique gave me a comic book that parodies the busy lives of teachers. It was a touching gesture and I was certainly sad to leave when the bell rang. We all promised to keep in touch and, seeing as I will still be living in Challans, I am sure to see them again.

Fast-forward to real time. I’ve now been teaching at my new post in Aizenay for two weeks. And what a two weeks they have been. To give a little bit of the history regarding my prior interactions with Aizenay, the only email I have ever received from them read something along the lines of, “Ask the teachers in Challans.” Really good advice, considering that my primary school and primary contact is supposed to be the middle school in Aizenay. So, this sets the scene for the level of organization that greeted my arrival. But please, read on…

Two weeks before Christmas Break, I sent an email to the principal of the school requesting to set up a meeting so that we could decide on my schedule before the holidays. I never received a response. Being the responsible adult that I am, I decided that I would call the school the Monday after vacation if I still hadn’t gotten in contact with the appropriate people. The vice principal in Aizenay beat me to the punch however, and called Challans to ask why I was not at the meeting they had set up for me on Monday morning. Ummmm…. Finding out that I was late to my own meeting came as a surprise to me – I never received word that there even was a meeting. This minor misunderstanding was luckily patched up when I agreed to reschedule for Thursday. Apparently, there was a problem with the email address they had been sending messages to. I am convinced it was a typo because I have had absolutely no issues with my emails to date. (The part where this becomes my fault is really exciting! But I’m not there yet…) Anyways, the teachers in Aizenay were all incredibly nice, very welcoming, and enthusiastic about working with me. The principal and all the other administrative figures were equally as charming and helpful. So, apart from the slight mix-up at the beginning, it seemed that my first week in Aizenay was going to run very smoothly.

That was until I got sick on Wednesday morning. My first two days of classes were great, but after a night of nausea and a morning spent fainting intermittently, I decided to stay home on Wednesday. This posed absolutely no problems at the time and I warned all proper authorities of my absence as far in advance as was conceivable, which, unfortunately, was two hours before the start of classes. I have no lessons on Thursday and with the centimeter of snow that fell on Friday morning, classes were canceled on Friday as well. Barring the rather comical fact that school was cancelled for a couple milimeters of snow, that still makes two absences within my first week of teaching. Did I mention that I am prone to migraines? I am prone to migraines. This minor detail should be all but insignificant, except for the fact that I succeeded in having two rather stellar migraines – one on Friday morning (no problem because of the school cancellation) and another the following Wednesday morning (more of a problem because of my absence the Wednesday before). I, again, did everything I could to warn the necessary teachers, the principal, and the really nice history professor that drives me to work. When it seemed like I had successfully done my duty, I thankfully crawled off to be sick for four hours with a skull-splitting headache. Unbeknownst to me, there was some serious miscommunication at work.

And now for the exciting crescendo to top this series of unfortunate events! Sooooooo….. I will try to keep this short because the massive proportions that this little incident took on were staggering. In a nutshell, I arrived on Friday morning to my classes only to be called in to talk to the vice principal. She was the only person that I had not met on my prior visit to Aizenay, and, unfortunately, our first conversation coincided neatly with my rather untimely absences. During the course of our short meeting, it was revealed that I was assumed to be irresponsible, unmotivated, lazy, and deceitful. This staggering list of adjectives came as quite a shock. I am irresponsible because I never took the initiative to contact Aizenay and thus missed our first meeting (I did contact Aizenay. Several times. It was me who never received a response). I am unmotivated because I seem to take my job as assistant teacher for granted, which can be proven by my two unlikely absences (As someone who wants to eventually be a teacher, I find this one particularly unfair). I am lazy because I never took the time to hunt down the vice principal to introduce myself. (I tried. She was either in meetings or not at school every day that I went to look for her.) Lastly, I am deceitful because I decided not to come to school two Wednesdays in a row – which seems suspiciously like an excuse to prolong my weekend. The fact that I called the school last-minute for both absences is further proof of my irresponsible, unmotivated, lazy, and deceitful nature. A tautological argument, but that’s beside the point… The list of accusations left me dumbfounded. I quickly and rather clumsily tried to explain that unfortunately I never received any emails from the school, unfortunately she was never there when I came to look for her, and that unfortunately I get migraines that I unfortunately cannot predict and whose trigger I unfortunately do not know. It sounded like garble even to my own ears, but I never expected to meet the vice principal in such a situation, where I would immediately be forced to defend every one of my actions since my arrival. And so, here I am, embroiled in a scandalous intrigue whose origins I am still having a hard time pinpointing. All I know is, it’s my fault. I don’t even know what the “it” is, but I’ve been made aware that it’s my fault all the same. Right?

Are you confused? Me too.

And now, to finish this entry as gracefully as I can, I will say that I foresee better communication and reconciliation in the near future. At least, that is what I hope the coming week will bring. I’ve successfully and very correctly used some form of the word “unfortunate” thirteen times. Whew. And so ends this series of unfortunate events. (Fourteen.) Until next time…