Why French children don't spit food online. French children do not spit food? Little Frenchies are picky eaters.
When our daughter was one and a half years old, we decided to take her on vacation with us.
We choose a coastal town a few hours train ride from Paris where we live (my husband is English, I am American) and book a room with a baby cot. We have one daughter so far, and it seems to us that there will be no difficulties (what naivety!). We have breakfast at the hotel, and lunch and dinner will have to be in fish restaurants in the old port.
Very soon it turns out that two trips to a restaurant daily with a one and a half year old child can become a separate cool hell. Food - a piece of bread or something fried - captivates our Bean for only a couple of minutes, after which she pours salt from the salt shaker, tears bags of sugar and demands to be lowered to the floor from the highchair: she wants to rush around the restaurant or run into side of the pier.
Our tactic is to eat as quickly as possible. We order before we are seated properly, and we beg the waiter to quickly bring bread, snacks and hot dishes - all dishes at the same time. While my husband swallows the fish in pieces, I make sure that Bean does not get under the feet of the waiter and does not drown in the sea. Then we switch… We leave huge tips to somehow compensate for the guilt of mountains of napkins and squid lumps on the table.
On the way back to the hotel, we vow never to travel again and never have children - because this is a continuous misfortune. Our vacation makes a diagnosis: life, as it was a year and a half ago, is over forever. I don't know why this surprises us.
After enduring several such lunches and dinners, I suddenly notice that the French families at the neighboring tables, perhaps, do not experience hellish torments. Oddly enough, they just look like people on vacation! French children, Bean's age, sit quietly in their high chairs and wait for food to be brought to them. They eat fish and even vegetables. They don't yell or whimper. The whole family eats appetizers first, then hot. And it doesn't leave mountains of rubbish behind.
Although I lived in France for several years, I cannot explain this phenomenon. In Paris, you rarely see children in restaurants, and I didn’t look closely at them. Before giving birth, I did not pay attention to other people's children at all, but now I look mainly at my child. But in our current plight, I can't help but notice that some kids seem to behave differently.
But why? Are French children genetically calmer than others? Maybe they are forced to obey by the method of carrot and stick? Or is the old-fashioned educational philosophy still in use here: “children should be seen, but not heard”?
I do not think. These kids don't seem intimidated. They are cheerful, talkative, curious. Their parents are attentive and caring. And it is as if some invisible force hovers over their tables, forcing them to behave in a civilized manner. I suspect that she controls the entire life of French families. But completely absent in ours.
The difference is not only in the behavior at the restaurant table. For example, I have never seen a child (other than my own) throw a tantrum on the playground. Why don't my French friends have to cut the phone when their kids need something urgently? Why aren't their rooms occupied by toy houses and doll kitchens, unlike ours? And that's not all. Why do most of the non-French children I know eat nothing but pasta and rice, or only eat "children's" meals (and there aren't that many), while my daughter's friends eat both fish and vegetables, and basically anything? French children do not grab pieces in between meals, being content with an afternoon snack at a certain time. How is this possible?
I never thought that I would be imbued with respect for the French methods of education. No one has ever heard of such, unlike French haute couture or French cheeses. No one goes to Paris to learn from the French how to raise children, in which there is no place for guilt. On the contrary, my moms I know are horrified by the fact that French women almost never breastfeed and calmly let their four-year-olds walk around with a pacifier in their mouth. But why doesn't anyone say that most babies in French families sleep at night as early as two or three months old? And they don't need constant supervision. And that they don't fall to the floor in hysterics when they hear a parent's "no."
Yes, French methods of education in the world are not really known. But over time, I realized that somehow imperceptibly, French parents achieve results that create a completely different atmosphere in the family. When families of my compatriots come to visit us, parents are mainly busy separating their fighting children, leading two-year-olds around the kitchen table by the hand, or sitting on the floor with them and building cities out of Lego. Someone will certainly throw a tantrum, and everyone will begin to comfort him. But when our French friends are visiting us, all the adults calmly drink coffee and chat, and the children calmly play on their own.
This does not mean that parents in France do not worry about their children. No, they are aware that there are pedophiles, allergies and the risk of choking on small parts of toys. And they take every precaution. But they do not experience panic fear for the well-being of their children. This calm attitude allows them to more effectively maintain a balance between the boundaries of what is permitted and children's independence. (In a 2002 survey conducted by the International Social Research Program, 90% of French people answered “Agree” or “Strongly agree” to the statement: “Watching my children grow up is the greatest joy in life.” For comparison, in the USA it is similar answered 85.5%, in the UK - 81.1% of parents.)
Many families have parenting problems. Hundreds of books and articles have been written about them: overprotection, pathological custody, and my favorite term - "child worship" - when so much attention is paid to the upbringing of children that it is already harmful to the children themselves. But why has the "child-worshipping" method of upbringing become so deeply ingrained under our skin that we are unable to get rid of it?
It began in the 1980s, when scientists received data (and the press widely disseminated it) that children from poor families were lagging behind in school, because they were not given enough attention, especially at an early age. Middle-class parents figured their kids could do with more attention, too. At the same time, they began to pursue another goal - to raise children in a special way so that they could become part of the "new elite". And for this it is necessary to develop children “correctly” from an early age, and it is desirable that in their development they are ahead of others.
Side by side with the idea of "parental competition" grew the belief that children were psychologically vulnerable. Today's young parents, a generation more knowledgeable than ever about psychoanalysis, have learned well that our actions can cause psychological trauma to the child. Also, growing up with the divorce boom of the mid-1980s, we were determined to be more selfless than our own parents. And although the crime rate has fallen sharply from its all-time high in the early 1990s, one has only to look at the news, one gets the impression that the lives of children have never been at such risk as they are today. It seems to us that we are raising children in a very dangerous world, which means that we must constantly be on the alert.
Because of these fears, a style of parenting has arisen that brings continuous stress to parents, exhausting them. In France, I saw that there is another way. Journalistic curiosity and motherly despair spoke up in me. By the end of our failed vacation, I decided to find out what the French do differently than we do. Why don't their kids spit food? Why aren't their parents yelling at them? What is this invisible force that makes everyone behave decently? And most importantly - can I change and apply their methods to my child?
I knew I was on the right track when I discovered a study showing that mothers in Columbus, Ohio found childcare half as enjoyable as mothers in Rennes, France. My observations, made in Paris and during trips to America, confirm: in France, parents Do something that makes raising children a joy, not hard work.
The secrets of French upbringing are in plain sight. It's just that no one has ever wanted to know them.
Now I also carry a notebook in my diaper bag. Every trip to the doctor, to dinner, to families with children, to the puppet theater is an opportunity to watch local parents in action to find out what unwritten rules they follow.
At first it was not entirely clear. Among the French, there are also different categories of parents - from extremely strict to practicing downright blatant permissiveness. Questioning led nowhere: most of the parents I spoke to claimed they weren't doing anything special. On the contrary, they were convinced that it was in France that the "child-king" syndrome was widespread, because of which parents lost all their authority. (To which I reply, "You haven't seen the real baby kings. Go to New York and you'll see!")
A few years later, after the birth of two more children in Paris, understanding began to come to me. I learned, for example, that France has its own "Doctor Spock": the name of this woman is known in every home, but none of her books have been translated into English. I read them in French, as well as books by other authors. I talked to many parents and shamelessly eavesdropped everywhere: picking up children from school, during trips to the supermarket. In the end, it seems to me, it became clear that it was the French who were doing differently.
When I say "French" or "French parents" I am, of course, generalizing. All people are different. It's just that most of the parents I talk to live in Paris and its suburbs. Mostly they are people with university education, professionals with above-average income. Not rich, not famous - educated middle class or slightly above middle class.
However, while traveling in France, I was convinced that the views of middle-class Parisians on raising children are not alien to working-class French women from the provinces. I was struck by the fact that parents in France do not seem to know exactly what the secret of education is, but nevertheless they act the same way. Wealthy lawyers, French kindergarten teachers, ordinary school teachers, old ladies who make remarks to me in the park - all are guided by the same basic principles. These principles are found in every French book on childcare, in every parenting magazine I have come across. After reading them, I realized that after giving birth to a child, it is not necessary to choose any parenting philosophy. There are ground rules that everyone takes for granted. This removes half the worries from French parents.
But why the French? I'm not a fan of France at all. On the contrary, I'm not even sure if I like living here. But, despite all the problems, France is a litmus test for identifying excesses in other educational systems. On the one hand, Parisians tend to communicate more with children, to be with them in nature, to read more books to them. They take the kids to tennis, to painting, to interactive science museums. On the other hand, they somehow manage to participate in the lives of children without turning this participation into an obsession. They believe that even good parents should not be in the constant service of their children and should not feel guilty about it. “Evening is a time for parents,” explained a familiar Parisian. “The daughter can be with us if she wants to, but this is the time for adults.”
French parents also tend to pay attention to their children, but not excessive. Foreign language tutors are hired for children from other countries and they are sent to early development centers at two years old, or even earlier, and in France the little ones continue to be little ones - as they should be.
Practical experience French parents do not hold. All over Europe there is a decline in the birth rate, but in France there is a baby boom. Of the entire EU, only Ireland has a higher birth rate. (In 2009, the birth rate in France was 1.99 children per woman, in Belgium - 1.83, in Italy - 1.41, in Spain - 1.4, in Germany - 1.36.)
France has a social support system that makes being a parent more attractive and less stressful. Kindergarten is free, health insurance too, no need to save up for college. Many families receive a monthly child allowance directly into their bank account. However, all these benefits do not explain the differences in parenting that I see. The French raise children in a completely different system. And in general, when you ask the French how they raise their children, they do not immediately understand what is meant. “How do you educate them?” I insist, and soon I understand that “educate” is a highly specialized, rarely used action in France associated with punishment. And the French are raising their children.
Dozens of books are devoted to theories of education that differ from the generally accepted system. I don't have such a theory. But before my eyes is a whole country where children sleep well, eat adult meals and do not "get" their parents. It turns out that in order to be a calm parent, you do not need to profess some kind of philosophy. You just need to look at the child differently.
Dedicated to Simon, next to whom everything makes sense
Some names and details in this book have been changed to ensure anonymity.
Les petits poissons dans l "eau, Nagent aussi bien que les gros.
Small fish swim like big ones.
French children's song
Glossary of French educational terms
Attend- wait, wait. This command given by parents to children in France means that the child is quite capable of waiting for what he wants and in between can keep himself occupied.
Au revoir- goodbye. Children in France are required to say au revoir when saying goodbye to familiar adults. One of the four "magic words" every French child should know..
Autonomie- autonomy. Independence and the ability to rely only on oneself are brought up in children from an early age.
Betise - little prank. Separating misdemeanors into more and less serious ones helps parents respond to them accordingly.
Bonjour- hello, good afternoon. This is how children greet familiar adults.
Sasa boudin - lit. kaka-sausage, turd. Swear word of French kindergarteners.
Cadre- frames, borders. The ideal of French education: children are given clear limits, but within these limits they are given complete freedom.
Caprice- caprice. An impulsive desire, whim, or demand of a child, often accompanied by whining or tears. French parents believe that indulging whims is harmful.
class verte- "green class". Starting from the first grade of the school, students annually go out into nature for about a week under the supervision of a teacher and several adults.
Colonie de vacances - children's holiday camp. In France, there are several hundred such camps for children from four years old. They rest there without their parents, usually in the countryside.
Complicite- mutual trust. Mutual understanding, which French parents and educators have been trying to achieve from children since birth. They believe that even small children are able to think rationally and it is possible to build relationships with them based on mutual understanding and respect.
Creche - French state nursery full day. Middle-class French people tend to send their children to nurseries, rather than leave them with nannies. They prefer state nurseries to private, "home" ones.
Doucement- quietly, carefully. One of those words that educators often say to young children, believing that even toddlers are able to act consciously and control their actions.
Doudou- favorite toy, usually soft - the one with which the child falls asleep.
Ecole maternelle - free public kindergarten. The child goes to kindergarten in September of the year when he turns three.
Education - training, education. French parents treat raising children like learning.
enfant roi- child king. An overly demanding child who is constantly in the center of attention of his parents and does not tolerate at all if something is “not for him”.
equilibre- equilibrium. Everything in life should be balanced, and no role should overlap others - including the role of a parent.
Eveillé/e - awakened, alive, active. The perfect quality of a French baby. Another ideal quality is prudence, see p. sage.
Gourmand/e - one who eats too fast, too much or too fond of any one dish.
Goyter- afternoon tea. They usually have an afternoon snack at 16.00, and this is the only "snack" during the day.
Les gros yeux- "big eyes". A reproachful look - this is how adults look at naughty children.
maman-taxi- taxi mom. This is the name of mothers who, all their free time, take children from one “razvitka” to another. This is considered not equilibre.
N "import quoi - God knows what, whatever. A child who behaves like this does not know the boundaries of what is permitted and does not think about others.
non- no way.
Profiter- enjoy, enjoy the moment.
Punir- punish. Punished in France only on very serious, serious occasions.
rapporter- tell, convey. In France, both children and adults find it terrible.
Sage- thoughtful, calm. So they say about a child who knows how to control himself or is absorbed in the game. Instead of "behave," French parents say, "Be good." sage".
Tetine- pacifier. Three-year-old and four-year-old children with a pacifier in their mouth are a common thing in France.
FOREWORD
French children do not spit food
When our daughter was one and a half years old, we decided to take her on vacation with us.
We choose a coastal town a few hours train ride from Paris where we live (my husband is English, I am American) and book a room with a baby cot. We have one daughter so far, and it seems to us that there will be no difficulties (what naivety!). We have breakfast at the hotel, and lunch and dinner will have to be in fish restaurants in the old port.
Very soon it turns out that two trips to a restaurant daily with a one and a half year old child can become a separate cool hell. Food - a piece of bread or something fried - captivates our Bean for only a couple of minutes, after which she pours salt from the salt shaker, tears bags of sugar and demands to be lowered to the floor from the highchair: she wants to rush around the restaurant or run into side of the pier.
Our tactic is to eat as quickly as possible. We order before we are seated properly, and we beg the waiter to quickly bring bread, snacks and hot dishes - all dishes at the same time. While my husband swallows the fish in pieces, I make sure that Bean does not get under the feet of the waiter and does not drown in the sea. Then we switch… We leave huge tips to somehow compensate for the guilt of mountains of napkins and squid lumps on the table.
On the way back to the hotel, we vow never to travel again and never have children - because this is a continuous misfortune. Our vacation makes a diagnosis: life, as it was a year and a half ago, is over forever. I don't know why this surprises us.
After enduring several such lunches and dinners, I suddenly notice that the French families at the neighboring tables, perhaps, do not experience hellish torments. Oddly enough, they just look like people on vacation! French children, Bean's age, sit quietly in their high chairs and wait for food to be brought to them. They eat fish and even vegetables. They don't yell or whimper. The whole family eats appetizers first, then hot. And it doesn't leave mountains of rubbish behind.
Although I lived in France for several years, I cannot explain this phenomenon. In Paris, you rarely see children in restaurants, and I didn’t look closely at them. Before giving birth, I did not pay attention to other people's children at all, but now I look mainly at my child. But in our current plight, I can't help but notice that some kids seem to behave differently.
But why? Are French children genetically calmer than others? Maybe they are forced to obey by the method of carrot and stick? Or is the old-fashioned educational philosophy still in use here: “children should be seen, but not heard”?
I do not think. These kids don't seem intimidated. They are cheerful, talkative, curious. Their parents are attentive and caring. And it is as if some invisible force hovers over their tables, forcing them to behave in a civilized manner. I suspect that she controls the entire life of French families. But completely absent in ours.
The difference is not only in the behavior at the restaurant table. For example, I have never seen a child (other than my own) throw a tantrum on the playground. Why don't my French friends have to cut the phone when their kids need something urgently? Why aren't their rooms occupied by toy houses and doll kitchens, unlike ours? And that's not all. Why do most of the non-French children I know eat nothing but pasta and rice, or only eat "children's" meals (and there aren't that many), while my daughter's friends eat both fish and vegetables, and basically anything? French children do not grab pieces in between meals, being content with an afternoon snack at a certain time. How is this possible?
Dedicated to Simon, next to whom everything makes sense
Les petits poissons dans l'eau,
Nagent aussi bien que les gros.
Small fish swim like big ones.
French children's song
The book became fashionable instantly. On the one hand, it is about raising children, and on the other, it is about Savoir vivre(the famous "ability to live"), in which, according to the French, they have no equal ... This is a book about how to raise a happy, self-confident and independent person, without studying foreign languages \u200b\u200bfrom infancy and not breastfeeding until two years old . And about how to be a mother, a woman and a social unit.
Olesya Khantsevich, Expert magazine
Almost the most popular guide to raising children today.
Lisa Birger, Kommersant Weekend magazine
Why are there so many gourmets, hedonists and connoisseurs of beauty in France? This is the result of a French upbringing. We have a lot to learn.
Marina Zubkova, Reading Together magazine
Druckerman wrote a book that became an international bestseller. It turned out that while everyone else is raising their children, the French are "raising" them ... Theoretically, this will lead to the fact that children will behave "civilized" and parents will feel relaxed.
Lev Danilkin, Afisha magazine
Amazing book. I didn’t sleep for two nights, I just couldn’t tear myself away.
Elena Solovieva, Raise a Child magazine
Yan Levchenko, Moscow Book Journal
French parents are above all unobtrusive, calm and patient. This is something like a three-digit code, knowing which, you can reveal the main secret of their educational system.
Vera Broide, newspaper "Book Review"
The life of parents should not stop with the advent of children; she just becomes different. The book contains a new and original look at raising children and communicating with them.
Anna Akhmedova, "Daddy's Journal"
Easily and witty, Pamela talks about the rules for raising children in France. They are easy to follow and they work!
Magazine "I will be a mother"
Already from the first pages of the book it becomes clear: if our children lose to French in good manners, then the reason, most likely, is not in them, but in us, Russian parents. More precisely, in our parental reactions to various small and big problems.
Irina Nakisen, Snob magazine
A very personal, lively, full of humor and incredibly useful book about the intricacies of parenting.
And although the secrets of French women are as elusive as their famous charm, you can still learn from them the balance between rigor and freedom.
Natalya Lomykina, Forbes magazine
Some names and details in this book have been changed to ensure anonymity.
Glossary of French educational terms
Attend - wait, wait. This command given by parents to children in France means that the child is quite capable of waiting for what he wants and in between can keep himself occupied.
Au revoir - goodbye. Children in France are required to say au revoir when saying goodbye to familiar adults. One of the four "magic words" every French child should know...
Autonomie- autonomy. Independence and the ability to rely only on oneself are brought up in children from an early age.
B?tise- little prank. Separating misdemeanors into more and less serious ones helps parents respond to them accordingly.
Bonjour- hello, good afternoon. This is how children greet familiar adults.
Sasa boudin - lit. kaka-sausage, turd. Swear word of French kindergarteners.
Cadre- frames, borders. The ideal of French education: children are given clear limits, but within these limits they are given complete freedom.
Caprice- caprice. An impulsive desire, whim, or demand of a child, often accompanied by whining or tears. French parents believe that indulging whims is harmful.
class verte - "green class". Starting from the first grade of the school, students annually go out into nature for about a week under the supervision of a teacher and several adults.
Colonie de vacances children's holiday camp. In France, there are several hundred such camps for children from four years old. They rest there without their parents, usually in the countryside.
Complicit? - mutual trust. Mutual understanding, which French parents and educators have been trying to achieve from children since birth. They believe that even small children are able to think rationally and it is possible to build relationships with them based on mutual understanding and respect.
Cr?che- french public nursery full day. Middle-class French tend to send their children to nurseries rather than nannies. They prefer state nurseries to private, "home" ones.
Doucement- quietly, carefully. One of those words that educators often say to young children, believing that even toddlers are able to act consciously and control their actions.
Doudou- favorite toy, usually soft - the one with which the child falls asleep.
Cole maternelle - free public kindergarten. The child goes to kindergarten in September of the year when he turns three.
Ducation- training, education. French parents treat raising children like learning.
enfant roi- child king. An overly demanding child who is constantly in the center of attention of his parents and does not tolerate at all if something is “not for him”.
Quilibre- equilibrium. Everything in life should be balanced, and no role should overlap others - including the role of a parent.
Veill?/e- awakened, alive, active. The perfect quality of a French baby. Another ideal quality is prudence, cf. sage.
Gourmand/e - one who eats too fast, too much, or too fond of one particular dish.
Go?ter- afternoon tea. They usually have an afternoon snack at 16.00, and this is the only "snack" during the day.
Les gros yeux - " big eyes". A reproachful look - this is how adults look at naughty children.
Maman-taxi taxi mom. This is the name of mothers who, all their free time, take children from one “razvitka” to another. This is considered not ?quilibr?.
N'importe quoi - God knows what, whatever. A child who behaves like this does not know the boundaries of what is permitted and does not think about others.
non- no way.
Profter- enjoy, enjoy the moment.
Punir- punish. Punished in France only on very serious, serious occasions.
rapporter- to tell, to convey. In France, both children and adults find it terrible.
Sage- thoughtful, calm. So they say about a child who knows how to control himself or is absorbed in the game. Instead of "behave," French parents say, "Be good." sage».
T?tine - pacifier. Three-year-old and four-year-old children with a pacifier in their mouth are a common thing in France.
Foreword
French kids don't spit food When our daughter was one and a half years old, we decided to take her on holiday with us.
We choose a coastal town a few hours train ride from Paris where we live (my husband is English, I am American) and book a room with a baby cot. We have one daughter so far, and it seems to us that there will be no difficulties (what naivety!). We have breakfast at the hotel, and lunch and dinner will have to be in fish restaurants in the old port.
Very soon it turns out that two trips to a restaurant every day with a one and a half year old child can become a separate circle of hell. Food - a piece of bread or something fried - captivates our Bean for only a couple of minutes, after which she pours salt from the salt shaker, tears bags of sugar and demands to be lowered to the floor from a high chair: she wants to rush around the restaurant or run into side of the pier.
Our tactic is to eat as quickly as possible. We order before we are seated properly, and we beg the waiter to quickly bring bread, snacks and hot dishes - all dishes at the same time. While my husband swallows the fish in pieces, I make sure that Bean does not get under the feet of the waiter and does not drown in the sea. Then we switch… We leave huge tips to somehow compensate for the guilt of mountains of napkins and squid lumps on the table.
On the way back to the hotel, we vow never to travel again and never have children again, because this is nothing but misfortune. Our vacation makes a diagnosis: life, as it was a year and a half ago, is over forever. I don't know why this surprises us.
After enduring several such lunches and dinners, I suddenly notice that the French families at the neighboring tables, perhaps, do not experience hellish torments. Oddly enough, they just look like people on vacation! French children, Bean's age, sit quietly in their high chairs and wait for food to be brought to them. They eat fish and even vegetables. They don't yell or whimper. The whole family eats appetizers first, then hot. And it doesn't leave mountains of rubbish behind.
Although I lived in France for several years, I cannot explain this phenomenon. In Paris, you rarely see children in restaurants, and I didn’t look closely at them. Before giving birth, I did not pay attention to other people's children at all, but now I look mainly at my child. But in our current plight, I can't help but notice that some kids seem to behave differently.
But why? Are French children genetically calmer than others? Maybe they are forced to obey by the method of carrot and stick? Or is the old-fashioned educational philosophy still in use here: “children should be seen, but not heard”?
I do not think. These kids don't seem intimidated. They are cheerful, talkative, curious. Their parents are attentive and caring. And it is as if some invisible force hovers over their tables, forcing them to behave in a civilized manner. I suspect that she controls the entire life of French families. But completely absent in ours.
The difference is not only in the behavior at the restaurant table. For example, I have never seen a child (other than my own) throw a tantrum on the playground. Why don't my French friends have to cut the phone when their kids need something urgently? Why aren't their rooms occupied by toy houses and doll kitchens, unlike ours? And that's not all. Why do most of the non-French children I know eat nothing but pasta and rice, or only eat "children's" meals (and there aren't that many), while my daughter's friends eat both fish and vegetables, and basically anything? French children do not grab pieces in between meals, being content with an afternoon snack at a certain time. How is this possible?
I never thought that I would be imbued with respect for the French methods of education. No one has ever heard of such, unlike French haute couture or French cheeses. No one goes to Paris to learn from the French how to raise children, in which there is no place for guilt. On the contrary, my moms I know are horrified by the fact that French women almost never breastfeed and calmly let their four-year-olds walk around with a pacifier in their mouth. But why doesn't anyone say that most babies in French families sleep at night as early as two or three months old? And they don't need constant supervision. And that they don't fall to the floor in hysterics when they hear a parent's "no."
Yes, French methods of education in the world are not really known. But over time, I realized that somehow imperceptibly, French parents achieve results that create a completely different atmosphere in the family. When families of my compatriots come to visit us, parents are mainly busy separating their fighting children, leading two-year-olds around the kitchen table by the hand, or sitting on the floor with them and building cities out of Lego. Someone will certainly throw a tantrum, and everyone will begin to comfort him. But when our French friends are visiting us, all the adults calmly drink coffee and chat, and the children calmly play on their own.
This does not mean that parents in France do not worry about their children. No, they are aware that there are pedophiles, allergies and the risk of choking on small parts of toys. And they take every precaution. But they do not experience panic fear for the well-being of their children. This calm attitude allows them to more effectively maintain a balance between the boundaries of what is permitted and children's independence. (In a 2002 survey conducted by the International Social Research Program, 90% of French people answered “Agree” or “Strongly agree” to the statement: “Watching my children grow up is the greatest joy in life.” For comparison, in the USA it is similar answered 85.5%, in the UK - 81.1% of parents.)
Many families have parenting problems. Hundreds of books and articles have been written about them: overprotection, pathological custody, and my favorite term - "child worship" - when the upbringing of children is paid so much attention that it is already harmful to the children themselves. But why has the "child-worshipping" method of upbringing become so deeply ingrained under our skin that we are unable to get rid of it?
It began in the 1980s, when scientists received data (and the press widely disseminated it) that children from poor families were lagging behind in school, because they were not given enough attention, especially at an early age. Middle-class parents figured their kids could do with more attention, too. At the same time, they began to pursue another goal - to raise children in a special way so that they could become part of the "new elite". And for this it is necessary to develop children “correctly” from an early age, and it is desirable that in their development they are ahead of others.
Side by side with the idea of "parental competition" grew the belief that children were psychologically vulnerable. Today's young parents, a generation more versed in psychoanalysis than ever, have learned well that our actions can cause psychological trauma to the child. Also, growing up with the divorce boom of the mid-1980s, we were determined to be more selfless than our own parents. And although the crime rate has fallen sharply from its all-time high in the early 1990s, one has only to look at the news, one gets the impression that the lives of children have never been at such risk as they are today. It seems to us that we are raising children in a very dangerous world, which means that we must constantly be on the alert.
Because of these fears, a style of parenting has arisen that brings continuous stress to parents, exhausting them. In France, I saw that there is another way. Journalistic curiosity and motherly despair spoke up in me. By the end of our failed vacation, I decided to find out what the French do differently than we do. Why don't their kids spit food? Why aren't their parents yelling at them? What is this invisible force that makes everyone behave decently? And most importantly, can I change and apply their methods to my child?
I knew I was on the right track when I discovered a study showing that mothers in Columbus, Ohio found childcare half as enjoyable as mothers in Rennes, France. My observations, made in Paris and during trips to America, confirm that in France, parents do something that makes raising children a joy, not hard work.
The secrets of French upbringing are in plain sight. It's just that no one has ever wanted to know them.
Now I also carry a notebook in my diaper bag. Every trip to the doctor, to dinner, to families with children, to the puppet theater is an opportunity to watch local parents in action to find out what unwritten rules they follow.
At first it was not entirely clear. Among the French, there are also different categories of parents - from extremely strict to practicing downright blatant permissiveness. Questioning led nowhere: most of the parents I spoke to claimed they weren't doing anything special. On the contrary, they were convinced that it was in France that the "child-king" syndrome was widespread, because of which parents lost all their authority. (To which I reply, "You haven't seen the real 'child kings'. Go to New York and you'll see!")
A few years later, after the birth of two more children in Paris, understanding began to come to me. I learned, for example, that France has its own "Doctor Spock": the name of this woman is known in every home, but none of her books have been translated into English. I read them in French, as well as books by other authors. I talked to many parents and shamelessly eavesdropped everywhere: picking up children from school, during trips to the supermarket. In the end, it seems to me, it became clear that it was the French who were doing differently.
When I say "French" or "French parents" I am, of course, generalizing. All people are different. It's just that most of the parents I talk to live in Paris and its suburbs. Mostly they are people with university education, professionals with above-average income. Not rich, not famous - educated middle class or slightly above middle class.
However, while traveling in France, I was convinced that the views of middle-class Parisians on raising children are not alien to working-class French women from the provinces. I was struck by the fact that parents in France do not seem to know exactly what the secret of education is, but nevertheless they act the same way. Wealthy lawyers, French kindergarten teachers, public school teachers, old ladies who make remarks to me in the park - all are guided by the same basic principles. These principles are found in every French book on childcare, in every parenting magazine I have come across. After reading them, I realized that after giving birth to a child, it is not necessary to choose any parenting philosophy. There are ground rules that everyone takes for granted. This removes half the worries from French parents.
But why the French? I'm not a fan of France at all. On the contrary, I'm not even sure if I like living here. But, despite all the problems, France is a litmus test for identifying excesses in other educational systems. On the one hand, Parisians tend to communicate more with children, to be with them in nature, to read more books to them. They take the kids to tennis, to painting, to interactive science museums. On the other hand, they somehow manage to participate in the lives of children without turning this participation into an obsession. They believe that even good parents should not be in the constant service of their children and should not feel guilty about it. “Evening is a time for parents,” explained a familiar Parisian. “The daughter can be with us if she wants to, but this is the time for adults.”
French parents also tend to pay attention to their children, but not excessive. Foreign language tutors are hired for children from other countries and sent to early childhood development centers at two years old, or even earlier, and in France, the little ones continue to be little ones - as they should.
Practical experience French parents do not hold. All over Europe there is a decline in the birth rate, but in France there is a baby boom. Of the entire EU, only Ireland has a higher birth rate. (In 2009, the birth rate in France was 1.99 children per woman, in Belgium - 1.83, in Italy - 1.41, in Spain - 1.4, in Germany - 1.36. 1
In Russia - 1.14. - Note. ed.
France has a social support system that makes being a parent more attractive and less stressful. Kindergarten is free, health insurance too, no need to save up for college. Many families receive a monthly child allowance directly into their bank account. However, all these benefits do not explain the differences in parenting that I see. The French raise children in a completely different system. And in general, when you ask the French how they raise their children, they do not immediately understand what is meant. “How do you educate them?” I insist, and soon I understand that “educate” is a highly specialized, rarely used action in France associated with punishment. And the French of their children grow up.
Dozens of books are devoted to theories of education that differ from the generally accepted system. I don't have such a theory. But before my eyes is a whole country where children sleep well, eat adult meals and do not "get" their parents. It turns out that in order to be a calm parent, you do not need to profess some kind of philosophy. You just need to look at the child differently.
Dedicated to Simon, next to whom everything makes sense
Les petits poissons dans l'eau,
Nagent aussi bien que les gros.
Small fish swim like big ones.
French children's song
The book became fashionable instantly. On the one hand, it is about raising children, and on the other, it is about Savoir vivre(the famous "ability to live"), in which, according to the French, they have no equal ... This is a book about how to raise a happy, self-confident and independent person, without studying foreign languages \u200b\u200bfrom infancy and not breastfeeding until two years old . And about how to be a mother, a woman and a social unit.
Olesya Khantsevich, Expert magazine
Almost the most popular guide to raising children today.
Lisa Birger, Kommersant Weekend magazine
Why are there so many gourmets, hedonists and connoisseurs of beauty in France? This is the result of a French upbringing. We have a lot to learn.
Marina Zubkova, Reading Together magazine
Druckerman wrote a book that became an international bestseller. It turned out that while everyone else is raising their children, the French are "raising" them ... Theoretically, this will lead to the fact that children will behave "civilized" and parents will feel relaxed.
Lev Danilkin, Afisha magazine
Amazing book. I didn’t sleep for two nights, I just couldn’t tear myself away.
Elena Solovieva, Raise a Child magazine
Yan Levchenko, Moscow Book Journal
French parents are above all unobtrusive, calm and patient. This is something like a three-digit code, knowing which, you can reveal the main secret of their educational system.
Vera Broide, newspaper "Book Review"
The life of parents should not stop with the advent of children; she just becomes different. The book contains a new and original look at raising children and communicating with them.
Anna Akhmedova, "Daddy's Journal"
Easily and witty, Pamela talks about the rules for raising children in France. They are easy to follow and they work!
Magazine "I will be a mother"
Already from the first pages of the book it becomes clear: if our children lose to French in good manners, then the reason, most likely, is not in them, but in us, Russian parents. More precisely, in our parental reactions to various small and big problems.
Irina Nakisen, Snob magazine
A very personal, lively, full of humor and incredibly useful book about the intricacies of parenting. And although the secrets of French women are as elusive as their famous charm, you can still learn from them the balance between rigor and freedom.
Natalya Lomykina, Forbes magazine
Some names and details in this book have been changed to ensure anonymity.
Glossary of French educational terms
Attend - wait, wait. This command given by parents to children in France means that the child is quite capable of waiting for what he wants and in between can keep himself occupied.
Au revoir - goodbye. Children in France are required to say au revoir when saying goodbye to familiar adults. One of the four "magic words" every French child should know...
Autonomie- autonomy. Independence and the ability to rely only on oneself are brought up in children from an early age.
Betise - little prank. Separating misdemeanors into more and less serious ones helps parents respond to them accordingly.
Bonjour- hello, good afternoon. This is how children greet familiar adults.
Sasa boudin - lit. kaka-sausage, turd. Swear word of French kindergarteners.
Cadre- frames, borders. The ideal of French education: children are given clear limits, but within these limits they are given complete freedom.
Caprice- caprice. An impulsive desire, whim, or demand of a child, often accompanied by whining or tears. French parents believe that indulging whims is harmful.
class verte - "green class". Starting from the first grade of the school, students annually go out into nature for about a week under the supervision of a teacher and several adults.
Colonie de vacances children's holiday camp. In France, there are several hundred such camps for children from four years old. They rest there without their parents, usually in the countryside.
Complicite - mutual trust. Mutual understanding, which French parents and educators have been trying to achieve from children since birth. They believe that even small children are able to think rationally and it is possible to build relationships with them based on mutual understanding and respect.
Creche - french public nursery full day. Middle-class French tend to send their children to nurseries rather than nannies. They prefer state nurseries to private, "home" ones.
Doucement- quietly, carefully. One of those words that educators often say to young children, believing that even toddlers are able to act consciously and control their actions.
Doudou- favorite toy, usually soft - the one with which the child falls asleep.
Ecole maternelle - free public kindergarten. The child goes to kindergarten in September of the year when he turns three.
Education - training, education. French parents treat raising children like learning.
enfant roi- child king. An overly demanding child who is constantly in the center of attention of his parents and does not tolerate at all if something is “not for him”.
Equilibre - equilibrium. Everything in life should be balanced, and no role should overlap others - including the role of a parent.
Éveille/e - awakened, alive, active. The perfect quality of a French baby. Another ideal quality is prudence, cf. sage.
Gourmand/e - one who eats too fast, too much, or too fond of one particular dish.
Goyter - afternoon tea. They usually have an afternoon snack at 16.00, and this is the only "snack" during the day.
Les gros yeux - " big eyes". A reproachful look - this is how adults look at naughty children.
Maman-taxi taxi mom. This is the name of mothers who, all their free time, take children from one “razvitka” to another. This is considered not equilibre.
N'importe quoi - God knows what, whatever. A child who behaves like this does not know the boundaries of what is permitted and does not think about others.
non- no way.
Profter- enjoy, enjoy the moment.
Punir- punish. Punished in France only on very serious, serious occasions.
rapporter- to tell, to convey. In France, both children and adults find it terrible.
Sage- thoughtful, calm. So they say about a child who knows how to control himself or is absorbed in the game. Instead of "behave," French parents say, "Be good." sage».
Tetine - pacifier. Three-year-old and four-year-old children with a pacifier in their mouth are a common thing in France.
Foreword
French kids don't spit food When our daughter was one and a half years old, we decided to take her on holiday with us.
We choose a coastal town a few hours train ride from Paris where we live (my husband is English, I am American) and book a room with a baby cot. We have one daughter so far, and it seems to us that there will be no difficulties (what naivety!). We have breakfast at the hotel, and lunch and dinner will have to be in fish restaurants in the old port.
Very soon it turns out that two trips to a restaurant every day with a one and a half year old child can become a separate circle of hell. Food - a piece of bread or something fried - captivates our Bean for only a couple of minutes, after which she pours salt from the salt shaker, tears bags of sugar and demands to be lowered to the floor from a high chair: she wants to rush around the restaurant or run into side of the pier.
Our tactic is to eat as quickly as possible. We order before we are seated properly, and we beg the waiter to quickly bring bread, snacks and hot dishes - all dishes at the same time. While my husband swallows the fish in pieces, I make sure that Bean does not get under the feet of the waiter and does not drown in the sea. Then we switch… We leave huge tips to somehow compensate for the guilt of mountains of napkins and squid lumps on the table.
On the way back to the hotel, we vow never to travel again and never have children again, because this is nothing but misfortune. Our vacation makes a diagnosis: life, as it was a year and a half ago, is over forever. I don't know why this surprises us.
After enduring several such lunches and dinners, I suddenly notice that the French families at the neighboring tables, perhaps, do not experience hellish torments. Oddly enough, they just look like people on vacation! French children, Bean's age, sit quietly in their high chairs and wait for food to be brought to them. They eat fish and even vegetables. They don't yell or whimper. The whole family eats appetizers first, then hot. And it doesn't leave mountains of rubbish behind.
Although I lived in France for several years, I cannot explain this phenomenon. In Paris, you rarely see children in restaurants, and I didn’t look closely at them. Before giving birth, I did not pay attention to other people's children at all, but now I look mainly at my child. But in our current plight, I can't help but notice that some kids seem to behave differently.
I do not think. These kids don't seem intimidated. They are cheerful, talkative, curious. Their parents are attentive and caring. And it is as if some invisible force hovers over their tables, forcing them to behave in a civilized manner. I suspect that she controls the entire life of French families. But completely absent in ours.
The difference is not only in the behavior at the restaurant table. For example, I have never seen a child (other than my own) throw a tantrum on the playground. Why don't my French friends have to cut the phone when their kids need something urgently? Why aren't their rooms occupied by toy houses and doll kitchens, unlike ours? And that's not all. Why do most of the non-French children I know eat nothing but pasta and rice, or only eat "children's" meals (and there aren't that many), while my daughter's friends eat both fish and vegetables, and basically anything? French children do not grab pieces in between meals, being content with an afternoon snack at a certain time. How is this possible?
I never thought that I would be imbued with respect for the French methods of education. No one has ever heard of such, unlike French haute couture or French cheeses. No one goes to Paris to learn from the French how to raise children, in which there is no place for guilt. On the contrary, my moms I know are horrified by the fact that French women almost never breastfeed and calmly let their four-year-olds walk around with a pacifier in their mouth. But why doesn't anyone say that most babies in French families sleep at night as early as two or three months old? And they don't need constant supervision. And that they don't fall to the floor in hysterics when they hear a parent's "no."
Yes, French methods of education in the world are not really known. But over time, I realized that somehow imperceptibly, French parents achieve results that create a completely different atmosphere in the family. When families of my compatriots come to visit us, parents are mainly busy separating their fighting children, leading two-year-olds around the kitchen table by the hand, or sitting on the floor with them and building cities out of Lego. Someone will certainly throw a tantrum, and everyone will begin to comfort him. But when our French friends are visiting us, all the adults calmly drink coffee and chat, and the children calmly play on their own.
This does not mean that parents in France do not worry about their children. No, they are aware that there are pedophiles, allergies and the risk of choking on small parts of toys. And they take every precaution. But they do not experience panic fear for the well-being of their children. This calm attitude allows them to more effectively maintain a balance between the boundaries of what is permitted and children's independence. (In a 2002 survey conducted by the International Social Research Program, 90% of French people answered “Agree” or “Strongly agree” to the statement: “Watching my children grow up is the greatest joy in life.” For comparison, in the USA it is similar answered 85.5%, in the UK - 81.1% of parents.)
Many families have parenting problems. Hundreds of books and articles have been written about them: overprotection, pathological custody, and my favorite term - "child worship" - when the upbringing of children is paid so much attention that it is already harmful to the children themselves. But why has the "child-worshipping" method of upbringing become so deeply ingrained under our skin that we are unable to get rid of it?
It began in the 1980s, when scientists received data (and the press widely disseminated it) that children from poor families were lagging behind in school, because they were not given enough attention, especially at an early age. Middle-class parents figured their kids could do with more attention, too. At the same time, they began to pursue another goal - to raise children in a special way so that they could become part of the "new elite". And for this it is necessary to develop children “correctly” from an early age, and it is desirable that in their development they are ahead of others.
Side by side with the idea of "parental competition" grew the belief that children were psychologically vulnerable. Today's young parents, a generation more versed in psychoanalysis than ever, have learned well that our actions can cause psychological trauma to the child. Also, growing up with the divorce boom of the mid-1980s, we were determined to be more selfless than our own parents. And although the crime rate has fallen sharply from its all-time high in the early 1990s, one has only to look at the news, one gets the impression that the lives of children have never been at such risk as they are today. It seems to us that we are raising children in a very dangerous world, which means that we must constantly be on the alert.
Because of these fears, a style of parenting has arisen that brings continuous stress to parents, exhausting them. In France, I saw that there is another way. Journalistic curiosity and motherly despair spoke up in me. By the end of our failed vacation, I decided to find out what the French do differently than we do. Why don't their kids spit food? Why aren't their parents yelling at them? What is this invisible force that makes everyone behave decently? And most importantly, can I change and apply their methods to my child?
I knew I was on the right track when I discovered a study showing that mothers in Columbus, Ohio found childcare half as enjoyable as mothers in Rennes, France. My observations, made in Paris and during trips to America, confirm that in France, parents do something that makes raising children a joy, not hard work.
The secrets of French upbringing are in plain sight. It's just that no one has ever wanted to know them.
Now I also carry a notebook in my diaper bag. Every trip to the doctor, to dinner, to families with children, to the puppet theater is an opportunity to watch local parents in action to find out what unwritten rules they follow.
At first it was not entirely clear. Among the French, there are also different categories of parents - from extremely strict to practicing downright blatant permissiveness. Questioning led nowhere: most of the parents I spoke to claimed they weren't doing anything special. On the contrary, they were convinced that it was in France that the "child-king" syndrome was widespread, because of which parents lost all their authority. (To which I reply, "You haven't seen the real 'child kings'. Go to New York and you'll see!")
A few years later, after the birth of two more children in Paris, understanding began to come to me. I learned, for example, that France has its own "Doctor Spock": the name of this woman is known in every home, but none of her books have been translated into English. I read them in French, as well as books by other authors. I talked to many parents and shamelessly eavesdropped everywhere: picking up children from school, during trips to the supermarket. In the end, it seems to me, it became clear that it was the French who were doing differently.
When I say "French" or "French parents" I am, of course, generalizing. All people are different. It's just that most of the parents I talk to live in Paris and its suburbs. Mostly they are people with university education, professionals with above-average income. Not rich, not famous - educated middle class or slightly above middle class.
Journalist Pamela Druckerman became interested in raising French children immediately after moving to Paris. The mother of three children described her observations in a book that became a bestseller. We have chosen 10 principles that Russian mothers should remember, and not only in France
1. "Time for adults." French children go to bed without talking at 8 or 9 pm - they know that the time of parents is coming, which they want and have the right to spend together. The same applies to vacations, weekends and country trips: sometimes the French, without any remorse and condemning looks from the outside, go on vacation without children, and their children spend time with their grandparents or in a summer camp. And this is absolutely normal, because children are not the whole life, and parents need to be alone from time to time.
2. "I'm in charge here." Parents in France, not without pride, consider themselves strict. This does not mean at all that they tyrannize children, forbidding them everything. It’s just that the child should be familiar with a reasonable “no”.
3. "Wait." In France, I regularly encounter situations that personally seem like a miracle to me: people with small children manage to calmly finish their coffee and have a normal, full-fledged conversation! The word "wait" is part of the parent's vocabulary: instead of shushing a naughty child or shouting "enough", the French simply give a short command "wait!".
“Photo: ShutterstockNatalia, 26 years old, two children, 6 years in France
For many years I have been friends with a beautiful French woman named Marie. She has an adorable seven-year-old son, who is adored by everyone, from distant relatives to grandmothers-saleswomen. The boy is so obedient that sometimes one gets the impression that at home they beat him or put him in a corner for a day. At the same time, I never noticed that Marie raised her voice at least a tone. Once I asked what her secret was, and she replied: “I treat him like an adult: I never regret, but I try to understand as a friend, to respect his personality. It's a little man."
4. "Mom's assistants" - only as a last resort. French women prefer nurseries to the services of private nannies, who are sometimes called "mother's assistants" here. “If a child has to stay with someone for the whole day, it should be me,” one of the French women told me. According to many mothers, if they did not get a place in a nursery, they would quit their job.
5. "Pause." Did the baby wake up and start acting up? The first reflex of any Russian mother is to immediately rush to him and begin to calm him down. But French moms and dads "pause": they wait for a while before coming up. And it's not just about sleep. Thus, from the cradle, parents teach the child that nothing happens in life at the behest of a pike and that he is not the navel of the earth, but a full-fledged member of society.
6. "Please and goodbye." Who among us does not remember the "magic words" that we were taught in childhood? However, the fact that a child knows how to say hello, say "thank you", "please" and "goodbye" in France is not just an occasion for tenderness. A child who greets and thanks on his own has accepted the laws of the adult world, which means that he has come one step closer to independent living.
“Alena, 30 years old, one child, 10 years in France
During all the time I spent in France, I noticed one very strange pattern: unlike Russians, French parents do not have the habit of leaving their children to their grandparents. The latter come to visit their grandchildren at a certain time, often simply playing the role of welcome guests. One day I asked our family friends why the tradition of sending children to their grandmother is not as popular here as, for example, in Russia. They looked at me in bewilderment and asked: “Why should we strain our parents? They already have their own children, and adults. It's time for them to rest."
7. "Do not punish, but explain." The French never use moral or physical violence in education. They are very conscious about this issue. Most parents will not put the child in a corner, but at the same time make it clear when the baby is behaving incorrectly so that he can realize and correct his mistake.
8. "Sexy mommy." In France, there is enormous pressure from society: it is believed that a woman should not get much better during pregnancy, and immediately after giving birth she must lose extra pounds.
9. "Do not feel guilty." Any mother wants her child not to be bored, not sad and not sick. However, she shouldn't blame herself for having her own life. Work, education, time alone with her husband - it is impossible to cross out all this in order to constantly be with the baby. On the contrary, without parents, he becomes independent, he can entertain himself and build his own world.
“Daria, 33 years old, three children, 8 years old in France
The clearest and most obvious principle that distinguishes a Russian family from a French one is that the worst conditions in which a child can grow up, according to the French, are bad relations between parents. The French prefer to quietly get a divorce, but in no case arrange a showdown with a child (unlike many Russian families!). They believe that the atmosphere in which the baby grows is the key to his independent adult personal life.
10. "Don't take away a child's childhood." Many parents try to get their toddler to read at age three. However, most of them do not understand that when the child turns six, at school he will be taught everything he needs twice as fast as at home, and even on time. Do not force children to grow up too fast: let them play and fantasize, and they will have enough study at school.
Photo: Shutterstock
Maternity leave in France and the CIS - our comparison
- At the birth of the first child in France, the allowance is not paid, but in Russia it is about 2,500 rubles. However, for subsequent children, French mothers receive from 150 euros per month.
- In Slavic countries, an institution for the smallest is called a "kindergarten", in France it is called a "mother's school" (ecole maternelle). Our curriculum is far ahead of the French one: children are taught to read and write earlier, they are even taught a foreign language. But in French kindergartens they play with children, trying to create a home environment for them.
- In France, the legal maternity leave is 16 weeks. We are talking about the normal course of pregnancy, as well as the first child. If difficulties arise or the baby is the second, third, etc., the period is extended. In Slavic countries, maternity leave is 140 days (20 weeks), after which a woman can legally go on “maternity leave”, which lasts from 1.5 to 3 years.
To find out what "mother schools" and centers for bilingual children are in Paris, go to ours.