With the school year wrapping up, the last few weeks have been less about exploring the wonders of the English language by following the curriculum of games, songs and cut-out shapes I have been given as learning materials, and more about the babysitting portion of my job. Per the request of the parents, for the remaining weeks of June I was allowed to let the tiny tots loose at the park for as long as they liked, distributing snacks on command from a Spiderman backpack. Seriously, how is this my life? But as a friend recently put it, "You don't get your dream job here in France. You get a job." And this one is mine for now.
Spending more time than I had ever this school year at the park, I observed the division of classes, social groups so to speak. We had the French moms who smoked, the French moms who didn't with their Le Bal (or whatever "hip" restaurant or organization) tote bags and organic snacks, the Portuguese grandmothers who would only talk to the lone Portuguese au pair who when alone was always on the freaking phone, the African nannies who somehow always managed to get the park benches, the American moms, and randoms like me and the Danish au pair. Oh, did you think I meant the social groups amongst the kids? No. The kids probably were less segregated than us, "the adults". I know, sad.
Okay, so in this conglomerate, which group do you think I easily fit into like a worn-out ballet flat?
Did you guess the American mom group? That they would welcome a fellow expatriate into their circle of conversation as an hour of watching children runaround pass slower than an episode of Dawson's Creek (post season 3)? Well you were wrong.
It went a little something like this: The French moms who wanted to practice their English would chat with me until they grew bored or exhausted speaking in their second language, the French moms who didn't care about English spoke with each other (this group also fell under the French Moms who smoke category), and the American moms...well, at first they were nice to me, until they asked me why my kids don't speak English more fluently and why they have such strong French accents. The answer to that is because they live with two French parents and see me once a day for a few hours.
My response fell flat. Total silence followed by a drab, "Oh, we thought you were an expat mom like us...". After this revelation, we never recovered and despite my attempts, was ignored and not welcomed to sit with them in the park. Major diss. I don't pride myself on being necessarily cool or anything, but didn't playground politics fall to the wayside post 7th grade? Apparently not and I was stunned. Just stunned!
Aside from the fact that one is crucially blonde, another has dark hair and deep olive skin, and one is overtly part Asian. How did they think that I pumped all of these kids of the same age out of me in one year? And we're supposed to be the dominant country...
Giving up on "my people" and the French moms, next up, was the African nannies. Scurrying to the park early to grab a seat on the bench, once play time officially started, I found myself book-ended by six nannies, and stuffed behind an echelon of clunky baby strollers. My little ones, demonstrated scrunched up little faces of disdain as they were forced to go through an obstacle of baby care paraphernalia to get one little cookie from me. Hey, it was character building.
Now in my new digs, I realized that I should have thought of this sooner. I was included immediately, no questions asked. With zero interest in brushing up on their English skills, and a full time passion for talking major shit about the families they worked for, they had me entertained me. I could not contribute in the family-bashing because I actually really do like the families that I work for, but sharing my own antidotes I think they got a kick out of me, or rather my accent. I'm sure they were making fun of me, but it was better than forcing myself to read the non-fiction book that I am currently struggling with, or being shunned by my compatriots.
I guess I shouldn't be so shocked by the social divisions in the park. Unfortunately this is something we deal with everyday. Literally and figuratively speaking, I guess we never do leave the playground. For me, vacation has officially started, so I bid a farewell to the park...until next September.