Old and Young

Before taking off toward Nevers, I spent some scattered moments at the end of the summer researching the ville that I would be calling home for the next année scolaire (school year, the way I refer to the amount of time I'll be in Nevers when various French people ask). One of the things I remarked in even the most cursory search of the wikipedia page about Nevers--both the English and French articles, which carry marked differences-- is the declining population. Since the 1970s, Nevers has lost about 5,000 inhabitants. This number represents one-ninth of the population at the beginning of that decade, which was around 45,000 habitants. Although this decreasing population curve was noted in the articles clearly enough, neither article proposed a hypothesis as to pourquoi (why) this might be the case.

Preparing, then, for a town deprived of vitality with a diminishing view of self, I set off to explore my Never(s) Never(s) Land. Upon my arrival, however, I found the town to be full of young people. Furthermore, the copious posters affichés partout (hanging everywhere) are the external markers of a large investment of energy in the life of the community. So why, then, the baisse de population (decrease in population)?

It turns out that Nevers, contrary to Gainesville, Florida where I grew up, is not a ville universitaire (college town). In Nevers there is an engineering school and a fac de droit (law school), the second of which has students for the first three years of an undergraduate-level law program. Otherwise, we have high schools such as the one where I teach, where l'Education National (the public education system) offers 2-year degrees called BTS, Brevet de Techniciens Supérieur, more or less the equivalent of an AA degree at a Community College. These degrees are highly specialized and geared toward specific professional formation. Lycée Raoul Follereau offers BTS in "assistant de manager," computer science, finance, and accounting. Many of the students leave the town for a 6-week long stage (internship) to get hands-on experience in their fields. And once they finish, they feel competent to search for jobs là où il y en a (where there are some).

With a vacuum of higher education and no possibility for intellectual or very profitable work, Nevers is not an attractive place for the large majority of 20-somethings. They all leave to do their studies in Paris, Dijon, or Clarmont-Ferrand, all cities with many more educational possibilities including more variety and prestige. Although it often seems that the youth of France is overly dependent upon their parents and lack life organizational skills, in Nevers this is not so much the case. All of the teachers I know whose children are college-aged, including ma chère Françoise, say that their kids have left the house and are leading exciting lives elsewhere. Although the kids claim they miss home and the comforts their parents provide, for practical reasons they don't end up coming home much during school, and once graduated, they often decide to move elsewhere and pursue the life they envisioned while studying. It's a common enough phenomenon in the US, and one that has brought Nevers to a population creux (dip).

Now, since the 20- and 30-somethings have moved to more exciting and branchés (connected) cities, the population of Nevers is left with the extremes of the demographic range: school-aged children and their 50-something parents and grandparents from one generation removed. The age gap is present in the two chorales (choirs) in which I sing: the one at the Conservatory and the one at Church. The Conservatory choir is made up of about 40 people, three of us in our twenties and the rest over the age of fifty. As far as the demographics of the Church choir go, that's another story.

The first night I went to rehearsal was also my first day teaching at the lycée. After classes, I called the choir director to let her know I was new and I'd be coming for the first time that night. She was audibly ravie (excited), repeating "qu'est-ce que ça va faire du bien d'avoir des jeunes!" (what good it will do to have some young people!) In preparing to head to rehearsal, I bet Ryan that I would be the youngest person there by 30 years. When rehearsal began and I looked around the room, I realized I had lost my bet. I was the youngest by about 50 years. All of the parish elders convened to sing songs that, while in French, were unlike anything I had ever heard in a French church. Far from the austere, arhythmic, grave refrains intoned by a solitary cantor, these were contemporary hymns with life, four-part harmony, and uplifting lyrics. The group was sympathique (nice) and acceuillant (welcoming), even if the woman sitting next to me (Danielle), who was wearing red high-heeled shoes, told me it wasn't worth introducing myself to her since she no longer had any memory for people's names. By the end of the répétition (rehearsal), one of the women had dozed off and her neighbor had to gently wake her up before we sang Notre Père (Our Father).

Leaving the rehearsal on my bike tauntingly branded "Le Jeune" ("The Young One"), I thought, "ce sera une année de basculations entre les jeunes et les vieux" ("this will be a year of tossing back and forth between the young and the old"). So far, that's been the case. Both young and old are friendly in Nevers, but so far the only real peers I've found are my fellow assistants. It seems that La recherche du temps perdu (The search for lost time) will not be the only theme of this year in France. No, it will be juxtaposed with La quête du temps futur (The quest for future time) and just might turn out to be Le temps pour tout faire (the time to do everything). After all, il n'y a pas temps comme le présent (there's no time like the present)!