The Educational Barracks of Misfortune 

The child is constantly disappointed, yet always finds a way to hope again—what a valiant little soldier! And this movement of expectation, despite everything, shapes the child down to their very fibres, because they are almost entirely, and at all times, hope. They belong to the world of dreams far more than we imagine.

 Anne Dufourmantelle, In Praise of Risk, Rivages Poche, Paris, 2014, p. 110.

The child is spontaneous smiling, laughter always just beneath the surface, an inclination and an invitation to happiness—but disappointment comes swiftly, for adults watch over them, and the child perceives, without a filter, that not everyone, far from it, is benevolent.

In general, fortunately, parents—mothers in particular—are. Though, perhaps not always... But very early on, the child encounters strangers: doctors, healthcare workers, social workers, and, inevitably, from the age of three, particularly in France, those commonly referred to by the generic term teachers, in those strange places where they are grouped together with other children of their age: schools.

Whether nursery schools, primary or elementary schools, or secondary schools, these are places of constraint, where permitted activities and behaviours are determined by adults known as education professionals: in France, "instits", primary school teachers, certified teachers, and so on. For the point is to learn, and under this pretext a process of conditioning will take place for at least a dozen years, at the end of which the child, now an adolescent, will most often have forever deserted the "world of dreams" and relegated hope to the depths of their being.

They will conform to what society expects of them: a submissive individual, either qualified or failed, which, already, makes little difference to the overall situation—soon to be in search of the means of subsistence in a merciless world.

The results of the PISA studies* concerning France, and what takes place on a daily basis in these rather grim places, do not contradict this view, even though, of course, it can be nuanced from one locality to another. There is no need to rehearse the usual litany of problems: bullying, disruption, distress, demotivation, boredom, boredom, boredom...

Who does not remember those years spent conforming to the injunctions of one's teachers? Little children speak of maître and maîtresse, and later of profs. In reality, those who choose this "profession" (but is it really one?) often do so by default and/or out of necessity, according to an inexorable process of social determinism.

Thus the "Écoles normales d'instituteurs et d'institutrices"—teacher-training colleges for primary school teachers —were genuine breeding grounds for social advancement (what an advancement !) for worthy children from poor families, such as the author of these lines.

Granted, there are schools that are rather modern. But some may still remember, in France, those austere buildings, with their nineteenth-century architecture, vast interiors and spacious grounds, their asphalt playgrounds planted—or not—with ancient plane trees. The school playground. In french :  "la cour de récréation" = recreation ! So, the recreation yard but what part of oneself can one possibly recreate after having spent several hours at a stretch stewing in the enclosed atmosphere of a "classroom", under the rule of an authoritarian or permissive teacher—ultimately, it makes little difference—often overwhelmed, yet always concerned with asserting their authority, themselves and their supposed knowledge, over this clique of children or teenagers whom they did not choose and who did not choose them?