The school of “unlearning”

My schooling days were marked by a wonderful time at a boys-only, seven-grades piled together, primary school, in a small room and shepherded by a wonderful teacher, Monsieur Losserand. I learned a lot, given the circumstances and my future looked promising as I embarked to Middle-School.

This time, I was bused to St Jean d'Aulps, 3.5 mile down valley, had lunch at the cafeteria and shuttled between classes like in I had never done it before. Not only that, our new “college” as they called it, was under construction and we had to literally walk miles to another hamlet for most of our courses.

One of our teacher, Mademoiselle Krac, was supposed to make us conversant in English, but the only thing I learned from her was her opening remarks (in French) “sit down and shut up!” Needless to say that instead of picking up new scholastic skills I “unlearn” everything Monsieur Losserand had painstakingly drilled into my head.

Year after year my grades were going down fast, until after three years of that kind of hell, I decided to change schools so I would not forget essential elements like my own name.

This Junior High named “College Henri Corbet” almost was the end of myself. Glad I escaped that dreary place!