Speaking their language*

Was it a certificate or a diploma?

I wasn't quite sure.

Nowhere on their list of accepted documents could I find it mentioned.

I couldn't tick a box.



I sighed.

I found the telephone number.

I checked the hours of opening.

Tuesday afternoon: 14:00-16:00.

Thursday morning: 9:30-11:30.

I telephoned at one of the specified times.

"Er, the Ministry of education considers that I am qualified to teach French. Will that do as proof that I can speak French?" I asked.

I was met by a sharp intake of breath, a counted silence and then a surprisingly friendly voice.

"Oh I don't know. I have never come across that question. I shall have to ask the ministry." 

"But I am speaking with you. You can hear that I can speak French."

"Yes, but if I don't have the agreement from the ministry. I can't do anything about it."

I sighed.

I waited.

After much toing and froing with the ministry a response came back.

The friendly voice telephoned me.

"The ministry has accepted that you can include a copy of your teaching of French certificate."

She saved me the 100 euros which it would have cost me to take a computerised test to get a stamped document to prove that I could speak French.

I looked at the boxes on the form.

None of the boxes corresponded to my case.

I sighed.

I telephoned the number.

I explained.

A voice replied.

"Oh I don't know. We have never come across that question. We will have to study the instructions from the ministry."

There was a pause.

"What diplomas do you have?"

"Oh, that's foreign, so you don't have any proof of equivalences for your diploma."

"Well the minstry of education seems to have accepted the equivalence of my diplomas because they have employed me to be a teacher at one of their universities for the past 18 years. Isn't that proof?"

I was met with a sharp intake of breath, and a measured silence.

"We are changing the procedures at the moment. Just complete the form and send a cv."

"Couldn't a teacher evaluate my competences?"

"No teacher will see your application if administratively you don't have the necessary documents."

I put down the phone and set about writing a cv...again.

This, it appears is the story of my life.

I am not adapted to filling in or being filled in official boxes.

I consider myself a hopeless case.

I need to improve my bloody adaptability.

I need to learn to speak their language.

I need to be uniformly square, a correct size, not foreign, easy to file.

Tick, tick, tick, tick. Happiness.

People shouldn't be expected to think.

That's stressful and waste of administrative time.

Am I a nought or a cross?

Maybe I am a goddamned asterisk?*

*trouble.

Reaching out.

Reaching out at five mintues to four. 

I am striving to finish this post in 20 minutes.

I have so much which I could say but I am deciding to limit it to the time.

I have had an extraordinary week.

I have lived it through exchanges of tweets, blog posts, emails, Twitter DM's, conversations with colleagues, students, ex-students, friends, my family online, offline around me and walking our dog Jazz.


I am just listening to Terry Elliott talking in a solitary #clavpicnic after having spent lunch with a friend of mine.

I have known for perhaps fifteen years, first as a student and then as a friend.

I have fifteen minutes left.

Before watching Terry's solitary #clavpicnic two or three times, I immediately responded to his generosity of speaking twenty minutes alone to the world.  I didn't watch more than one minute.

I decided that I would respond to Terry's bravery and speak to the world 'ad hoc' in my turn and have faith in whatever came out of my mouth accompanied by a picture on the wall.

It is not much to hide behind. 

On Tuesday night I was losing sleep about CLAVIER and the hashtags.

My colleagues were freaking out and this inspired the post Nature Regains Ground.

On Wednesday morning the world looked a whole lot different, the students were gettting CLAVIER and were all working on their self-directed learning projects.

My colleague was as excited as I am.

We have experienced so many of these moments of panic, of fear over the past 4 years.

4 years, that is like twenty minutes.

4 years, that is like twenty minutes, nothing in the time it will take to transform education.

This week Mia Zamora, surprised me by inviting me to join the facilitation team of Connected Courses.

To say that I was taken aback by her email, and the ensuing one coming from Claudia would be an understatement, to put it mildly.

We need recognition for our particularity.

I was not expecting an Oscar from my peers. That's frankly how I felt.


Twelve minutes left.

I responded to the invitation with confusion and then refound the voice which comes from somewhere.

A blog post wrote itself, a familiar voice helped me find my feet.

Dodger, my alter-ego helped me through the crisis of trust.

Trust of myself, trust of others.

Artful, Mia commented.
Yes Dodger is Artful.

I sent a DM to Terry, what do you think about these guys inviting me?

I trust Terry implicitly.

He reassured me, then Mia sent me another mail, I was reassured.

I can work with you, these guys and not feel that I am selling myself, ourselves short.

That feels like freedom.

I found a photo of myself, taken this summer in the UK.

I was enjoying a bus ride with my colleagues for CLAVIER near one of my homes.

I thought the joy in my eyes and the spontaneous victory sign were appropriate. We are in movement.

8 minutes left.

Mia talked about translating meaning through boxes, inside boxes.

Marcin and Laura joined me on Thursday to talk about translating CLAVIER into their local cultures.
They helped me, we are helping each other attempt to make that translation.

Terry, in his solitary picnic, talked of the difficulty of creating the conditions in which his students will want to connect with others in the CLAVIER network.

Four years is like twenty minutes.

We have gradually built up a story.

We attempt to make meaningful connection with each person.

Working in team of teachers, we can afford to spend the time necessary.

The person is often only aware of feeling of constraint. We pick away at those constraints little by little. Meaningful time spent with one person has a viral effect on other students who are witnesses to the uniquely meaninful dialogue. Such moments of connection become virtuous, viral messages.

Four minutes.

An ex-student came to my class, he has become a successful manager in IKEA in Clermont Ferrand.

He came to talk about his experience. We sat down in the comfy chairs in our learning space.

His presence resulted in an extraordinary moment of connection.

He told the story of how he had been at a cross-roads in his life.

He had lived a crisis, he made a conscious decision to live, rather than to die.

Survival my friends is a pitiful option.

He chose to live, to believe in himself after watching a short video on Youtube which somehow connected with him in his moment of despair.

Someone had taken the time to make a two minute video which gave him hope.

One minute left.

Terry, Keith, Kevin, Susan, Maha, Mia, Jim, Maritta, Marcin, Paul, Teresa, Maxime, Alexis, Camille, Clarissa, Blaise, Leena, Jurgen, Jose, Alan, Howard, Alec, Laura, Christine, Marie Christine, Dave, Bonnie et al -

I have no time to mention you all, forgive me, time is short.

I have hope. 

I must go and get the kids from school.

We must do this.

for our kids.