There are Americans
who dream of living in Paris their whole lives.
I was not one of them.
I grew up in Miami
and I was always fascinated by Latin America.
But in 2002, I was working as a journalist in Argentina
and I met an English journalist in a bar in Buenos Aires,
who had just bought a tiny apartment in Paris.
Six months later, I was laid off from my newspaper,
along with two hundred others,
and all of the American media
was in the process of doing similar layoffs.
So, I soon found myself in Paris, working as a freelance journalist
and living in 35 square meters with an English man I barely knew.
At first, I couldn't figure out where I fit into Paris.
In the United States, you can customize everything.
I would like the chicken but without cream, please,
and a salad, but with the dressing on the side,
and then a coffee but with skim milk.
In Paris, you can't customize anything.
There was only one type of milk used for coffee.
But I stayed in Paris, and with my Englishman.
We got married and had a child, and then two more.
And honestly, it was because of that
that I started to appreciate the French culture
in relation to how you're raising your children.
Okay, I know that you think that France has been cursed
with a plague of spoiled brats.
But with all respect,
you don't know anything about spoiled children.
In the United States, everything a parent does is intended to protect,
but above all, to stimulate their children.
This American tendency is not new.
In the 60s, the psychologist Jean-Pierre Geay toured the United States.
And in each city he asked what he called "The American Question":
"How can we speed up the stages of our children's development?"
For 30 years, with the gap growing between the rich and the poor in the US,
this tendency to say,
"The sooner, the better",
has accelerated in the United States.
We are all in some giant race that starts in the cradle.
Today there are American children
who often have an extracurricular activity every day of the week.
To deal with all of that, American moms are becoming mommy-taxis,
and the whole family is organized around a giant whiteboard,
color coordinated, like in a business.
A sociologist called this phenomenon "the frenetic family".
You can image the impact on American parents.
Satisfaction in couples has dropped for the last twenty years.
Now non-parents are happier than parents,
and parents become less happy with each new birth.
A study in Los Angeles concluded
that parents are no longer authority figures;
they have become valets for their children.
One person who participated in this study,
who conducted the study itself, described the experience as
"the best contraception never invented." (Laughter)
But yet, and yet, this intensive education continues in the United States,
because we're afraid that, if we don't do it,
we will penalize our children in how they compare to others,
and we will lose this giant race.
I myself would have raised my kids in the American style,
if I hadn't had them in France.
But having been surrounded by French parents,
having educated my children in France,
I've discovered a completely different and unique education style.
This interested me so much
that I conducted a three-year study on the subject.
Okay, of course I'm generalizing.
It's not that all French parents do the same thing.
But there are certain basic principles
that come generally from French conventional wisdom.
Little by little, I came across, I heard certain expressions,
of which I will share with you 8 of my favorites.
"Hello".
In the United States, a child that comes to my home
is under no obligation to tell me, "Hello," to greet me.
In Paris, "Hello" is a kind of obsession for parents.
(Laughter)
I have a friend who told me that when she has guests over,
her daughter must come say "Hello," and if not,
she has to stay in her room for the rest of the night.
Saying "Hello", is a way to show that a child is well-raised,
of course, it's part of the social code,
but it's also helps them to learn that they're not alone in the world,
it's the first step toward empathy.
"Wait". (Laughter)
At the grocery store, in school, at home, I have heard the word "wait" a lot,
and it's true that French children wait a lot.
(Laughter)
They wait for their turn, for their meal to eat.
They are not supposed to interrupt adults; they must wait for their turn to talk.
I like to believe that my children were either born patient or not
as if it were a personality trait,
but French parents consider patience
like a kind of muscle that becomes stronger with practice.
(Laughter)
"Wise".
In English, we say "Be good."
In French, you say "Be wise."
"Good" implies good behavior,
but this could also be the behavior of a wild animal.
"Wise" implies that the child has a certain understanding of the situation,
and that we trust him.
Françoise Dolto, who is almost unknown in the United States, to English speakers,
said that even babies are rational.
And I've seen French mothers in France
who have taught their toddlers how to behave at the table
and how to behave in public.
And to my great astonishment, these little children listened.
"You have to try it". (Laughter)
I don't know if you have ever seen a menu in a French daycare,
it's like a menu in a restaurant.
There are four dishes, including a different cheese every day.
I have been present during these meals for my research, and I can confirm
that these little French children eat endive purée and blue cheese,
and then discuss the flavors with one another.
(Laughter)
Of course there are difficult French children,
but you are far away from our world of chicken nuggets
and pizza as the only things children will eat.
At home, parents apply some principles of good sense.
First, no one snacks between meals,
that way, the child comes to the table hungry.
Secondly, parents serve the vegetables first,
so the first thing the hungry child encounters is grated carrots.
And thirdly, it's very simple, but for me it's like magic,
they must try everything, because it's by trying new foods
that you learn to like them, even for adults.
"Balance".
In the United States, I know parents of six-year-olds
that have never spent a night away from their children.
In France, I know parents who spend one weekend a month by themselves.
Here, the couple is seen as the foundation of the family.
A magazine said that if your libido hasn't returned
by 4 to 6 months after childbirth, you should seek professional help.
I know that moms, especially French mothers, are very busy.
They try to balance their lives as wives, moms, workers, friends.
But they do not value, like they do in the United States,
this complete motherhood.
Here in France, balance is the ideal.
No one part of life is supposed to take priority over the others.
"Autonomy".
Like us, you tell your children, "Good job," but a bit less.
You understand that self-confidence comes
when children do things well, on their own, and for themselves.
In France, children are responsible from a much earlier age than Americans,
for things like loading the dishwasher, or helping with preparing meals.
Here, the ideal is a framework of firm limits,
but on the inside, complete freedom.
"It's my decision."
I say this in French normally because it's stronger.
I have a neighbor who spent a whole afternoon
teaching me to say "no" to my son in a convincing manner.
"No. No!"
He got out of the sandbox every 5 minutes, and I ran after him.
I was screaming, he was crying.
Like many American parents, I was afraid to say "no" to my child.
I thought that it would traumatize him.
My neighbor told me,
"You have to believe that you have the right to tell him 'no.'"
And in fact, after I said "no" in a convincing manner, with conviction,
he calmed down, he played by himself.
For the first time, we had a quiet day in the sun.
This one's my favorite: "Poop sausage."
My daughter came home from daycare one day, and said "poop sausage."
My husband and I looked at her, perplexed.
What does that mean, "poop sausage?"
We understood that it was a dirty word just for toddlers.
We didn't know whether it should be laughed at or forbidden.
Finally, we understood that saying "poop sausage"
is naughty, but only a little naughty.
And that's exactly what makes it fun.
Children have so many rules and limits,
that sometimes they have to say "poop sausage."
We can say it together: "poop sausage." (Laughter)
All of these little words and phrases contribute to creating
another way to envision parental roles.
Rather than protecting children from every little frustration,
you try to expose them to it a little; you teach them to face it.
You are very involved parents, but you let children live their own lives.
At least when you have a spoiled child, you consider it a problem.
I think that you have found an excellent balance
between the old methods and modern psychology.
My proof is that the things that you do intuitively
are confirmed by current scientific data.
For example, make him wait a little, and the baby will sleep through the night.
It is pointless to teach a toddler how to read.
She needs much more to learn social skills, and just to play.
And too much praise leaves children less confident.
Believe me, it's an advantage not to be a society
that's always looking for "the next big thing."
In France, you are pragmatic, and you stick to what works.
But I know that I'm taking to Parisians, and that you're suspicious of compliments.
I've seen that, if your children get 20 out of 20 on a test in school,
you think something is wrong with the teacher.
And I can reassure you: you are not perfect.
You have the lowest percentage of breastfeeding in all of western Europe.
I have the impression that unfortunately,
your schools instill more fear than confidence in students.
And, personally, I prefer
American children's books, with their happy endings.
I know that you think our American optimism is a little naive,
but that's what allows us to create enterprises, and win Nobel prizes.
(Applause)
Thank you.
But we can also learn from you.
And the greatest lesson I've learned from French parents
is that it is not just the result of education that matters.
The experience from spending 18 years together as a family,
that matters as well.
It's now been almost 10 years since I moved to Paris, and I can say
that I have not been entirely converted.
I still find Paris a little formal and distant,
but at least you now have Starbucks, so I can have skimmed milk in my coffee.
And sometimes my husband complains
that I've become more French than the French.
Perhaps I should leave Paris while I can.
I doubt I'll spend my whole life here.
But thanks to French parenthood, I've found my place here a little bit.
And for that, I would like to tell you that magic word, "thank you."
(Applause)