Most often, I think back on growing up in Vienna as an extraordinarily happy period. For three years, between the ages of six and nine, my three siblings and I had the pleasure of playing for hours in the gardens around Schönbrunn Palace, taking the tramway, going to the opera, among many other splendid and unforgettable discoveries. Yet on occasion, I also remember how difficult the experience could be, for my parents rightly decided to have us attend Austrian schools, though none of us spoke German. Like so many of the families at the Lycée Français de New York, they believed we were young enough to learn a new language and enrolled us in a range of Viennese “schulen”. For me, that decision meant first grade.
The year turned out to be a remarkably positive one, but the initial months were trying, to say the least. It was clear from day one that my teacher had little, if any patience at all with the fact that I could not understand what she was saying, let alone answer the questions she kept asking. As if it were yesterday, I can remember her being so exasperated with me that she learned a word in English and then kept using it for what seemed like weeks on end. The word was “failure”. “Johnny”, for she could not pronounce “Sean”, “du bist ein ‘failure’”. Later, once I had learned German, she was even tougher, predicting the bleakest of futures for me with terms I would dutifully take home and look up in the dictionary.
A “low” grade on a test
Along with a happy ending I will spare you, this is the story I told to one of our secondary school students the other day, when I came across her visibly distraught in the hallway. Of course, her tears had nothing whatsoever to do with our faculty, who as we all well know at the Lycée Français de New York have an entirely different philosophy of education, not to mention entirely different standards of professionalism. Rather, our student was upset because she had received what she considered to be a low grade on a test for which she had studied very hard. “I’m a zero in this subject, sir. Really, a zero.”
From the conversation which ensued, it was clear to me that as overcome with emotion as our student was, she also knew she could count on her teachers to help her, particularly through the individualized meetings which the secondary school calls “dialogue hours”. Unprompted by me, she also reported that she would immediately talk about what had happened with her advisor. Should she feel the need to do so, I encouraged her to seek out a member of our specialized support team too.
Perfectionists vs. Optimalists
However, much of our brief exchange had to do with the topic of learning. The grade our student had received was an A-, a highly respectable achievement, but evidently less than she believed to be acceptable. The thought I shared with her was simple: perhaps life is not a straight line to perfection, but a much more interesting odyssey, marked by challenges, each of which enriches existence and when bravely addressed allows us not so much to create a perfect world, which will forever be elusive, but to build the best possible world for ourselves and those around us, a goal which is eminently realizable.
So would say the thinker and writer Tahar Ben-Shahar, who in his book “L’apprentissage de l’imperfection” makes an enlightening distinction between what he names perfectionists and optimalists: “By definition, the perfectionist refuses everything which departs from his or her idealized vision [of happiness], a vision in which flaws and weaknesses have no place; the result: he or she suffers each time he or she falls short of his or her unrealistic criteria [for defining success]. The optimalist, on the other hand, accepts what existence has to offer and makes the best of what he or she encounters” (Paris : Belfond, p. 37).* The Lycée Français de New York is a rigorous and demanding school, with academic excellence at the heart of its mission. At the same time, we are and must remain sensitive to the ways in which our students interpret and approach the journey on which they have embarked.
*“Par définition, le perfectionniste refuse tout ce qui s’écarte de sa vision idéalisée, d’où sont absents défauts et défaillances; résultat: il souffre chaque fois qu’il reste en deca de ses critères irréalistes. Tandis que l’optimaliste accepte ce que la vie lui offre, et en tire le meilleur parti.”
About the Author :
Sean Lynch was Head of School at the Lycée Français de New York from 2011 to 2018, after having spent 15 years at another French bilingual school outside of Paris: the Lycée International de St. Germain-en-Laye. Holding both French and American nationalities, educated in France (Sciences Po Paris) and the United States (Yale), and as the proud husband of a French-American spouse and father of two French-American daughters, Sean Lynch has spent his entire professional and personal life at the junction between the languages, cultures and educational systems of France and the United States. In addition to being passionate about education, he loves everything related to the mountains, particularly the Parc National du Mercantour.