Translation:

‘A sector of the Nicolae Dobrin Stadium in Pitesti has 269 seats. During a match between Steaua and FC Arges, Steaua supporters vandalised 119 seats. How many were left intact?‘

Say it with a bribe

Worrying developments in Romania yesterday, after it emerged that the government was planning to issue a guide to pupils that tells them ‘giving teachers gifts such as flowers is an act of masked corruption.’

How horribly sad is that?

Handing flowers to teachers on the first and last day of term (as well as Martisor and International Women’s Day on March 8th, and a present – usually collective- at Christmas) might not be to everyone’s taste, but it is a long-standing tradition in Romania, and it would be a shame to see it disappear.

There is a vast amount of corruption in the Romanian education system, not least at the ‘buy-a-degree’ private universities. But primary school kids handing teachers flowers is not corruption, and to even suggest that it is marks a troubling new development in the government’s thinking: far from dealing with corruption it is a sign that the state wants to start regulating areas of our lives in which it should have no input.

What’s more, suggesting children refrain from offering their teacher’s gifts will not have the slightest impact on corruption (and nepotism) at higher levels.

—
For anyone remotely interested, here are a few more thoughts on primary schools in Romania.

Three or four years ago, when number one son’s class started learning English at (his then) kindergarden, we overlooked – for the first few weeks – the fact that he was being taught English by a woman who had an accent thicker than Ion Iliescu.

Like Iliescu, her English was in fact excellent – it was purely the accent that was the problem. (Indeed, if you watch the video, you will see that those who deride Iliescu for not speaking English well are not being entirely fair: what he says is more or less correct, it is how he says it that is the problem).

Anyway, we didn’t worry too much about the teacher’s accent initially as we assumed – wrongly, as it turned out – that having been taught English since birth by yours truly he would be able to sort the wheat from the chaff, as it were.

Then came the day he arrived home and started singing about ‘tree blaint mas’.

It was a wake up call.

Next day we went to the kindergarden and politely requested he be excused English. He was, and his English accent survived intact.

Now at school (a Romanian state school, you may recall) he is lucky enough to have an American teach him English. (You can insert your own jokes about his teacher still having a highly dodgy accent). He grins and bears it: learning the parts of the body (this week’s class) is never going to tax a native speaker, but being guaranteed top marks every week is incentive enough to sit through until the end.

When Mrs. Bucharest Life (who is Romanian) first became pregnant, one of the first things we did was find out what the score is with bringing up children whose parents have different mother tongues.

The consensus was simple: each parent speaks in his/her own language to the child and lets nature take its course. All children – up to a certain age – apparently have an intrinsic ability to discern one language from another. If one language is spoken better than the other at first, don’t panic: it will all even out sooner rather than later.

And that is exactly what happened. Both kids spoke far better Romanian than English until they were three. Number two didn’t in fact speak a single word of English until she was three (though clearly understood, especially if the word ‘chocolate’ was muttered). Then, quite literally from one day to the next, she suddenly decided to start speaking English, and hasn’t stopped since.

Now at kindergarden, she too has begun to ‘learn’ English. Though her teacher is far better than Number One’s ever was, there still appear to be a few issues. On Friday for example she came home and told us that she had been learning all about the seasons.

‘And what season are we in now?’ we asked her.

‘The season when the leaves fall off the trees,’ came the reply.

‘Ottom.’

We have in the recent past written at some length about what we think of Romania’s education system (or, rather, about the tiny part of it we have any experience of), and to save any of you from reading that long post again, our thoughts are basically this: we think we get a good deal.

Romania’s teachers on the other hand, certainly do not.

Here’s a little history…

Like Romania’s medical professionals, Romania’s teachers have long been criminally underpaid. While the teaching profession is not – in any country – a profession for those seeking their fortune, in few countries are teachers paid as poorly as they are in Romania.

In January 2008, the then Liberal government of Calin Popescu-Tariceanu passed Legea 221 which would have given Romania’s teachers a large increase in pay from the end of that year onwards. The lowest grade of teacher (an invatator, in his or her first year of full teaching) would have been guaranteed a monthly salary of 1291.60 lei, or about €300. Still a pittance, and still barely enough to make ends meet, but a healthy increase and a step in the right direction.

Alas, Tariceanu left office in December 2008. One of the first acts of the new government, led by current prime minister Little Emil Boc, was to amend Legea 221, slashing the pay increase from 50 per cent to just 17 per cent.

Incredibly, even this meager increase has not yet been paid to all of Romania’s teachers.

Some have received no increase in pay at all since 2008.

As a result, almost two-thirds of Romania’s teachers have taken their employers (in most cases local councils) to court, in order to have their full rights to a 50 per cent pay increase (as agreed between the teaching unions and Romania’s government of the time) reinstated.

Those who have won have indeed been paid the full 50 per cent increase. Now it looks as though they will be asked to repay this money.

Though the government said on Monday that all teachers would now receive the full 17 per cent increase, backdated to January 1st 2009, this still leaves the minimum teaching salary down at about 800 lei per month.

The teaching unions remain unhappy, and are now – finally – becoming increasingly militant. A long industrial dispute looks likely. The first strikes are set for next month, and though we – as parents with a child in school – would usually not take kindly to striking teachers, this time we can’t help but back them.

Standing up for what is rightfully, legally, yours – even daring to ask for more in a time of austerity – is to be applauded by anyone who believes in a world of plenty and who takes the controversial view that children should be taught by people who do not have to worry about paying the bills.

With number one son today celebrating the last day of his first semester at school, we present – for the benefit of nobody – our first impressions of the Romanian education system (or at least, our impressions of the school our son attends).

As our regular reader – a Mrs. Trellis of North Wales – will probably know, number one son began his formal education back in September at a reasonably bog-standard state school in Bucharest, located half-way between Budapesta and Piata Unirii. (Being in publishing, we don’t have anything like the money we need to send him to a public school, so we had no choice but to try our luck in the state system).

Now, when we say he attends a ‘reasonably bog-standard state school,’ we should add that the school is rated as the second best in Bucharest, and getting a place is not easy if you do not live in the catchment area. Teachers are generally excellent, the head is outstanding, the facilities are OK (and about to be upgraded), and the school has a new gymnasium. Class sizes are manageable: in number one son’s class there are 24 kids.

The first shock for a parent used to school in the western world is the time that school starts in Romania: 08:00. Not being the earliest of birds, that came as a real shock to our system. The school day then ends at a similarly early 11:30. This is compensated for, however, by a ton of homework. At the age of seven we had precisely zero homework, if memory serves. Number one son’s homework keeps him busy much of the afternoon.

Yes, there is much rote learning. Yes, there is far too much emphasis placed on handwriting (ever noticed how all Romanians can write beautifully?) Yes, we could do without the obligatory religious classes, but they are limited to half-an hour a week, and seem to be far more about behaving well, about our place in the world, and about the environment than anything overtly biblical.

Yes, we could do without being asked for money to buy something or other at every teacher-parent meeting (which are held weekly, by the way), and yes, we could do without the kids at the high school next door smoking on their way to and from school.

By and large though, we are happy with the school, and with his progress.

For the education itself is terrific. In maths (a subject Bucharest Life never did really excel in) he is doing what we believe to be some fairly difficult stuff. Not because he or his class are particularly gifted, but simply because such things are par for the course on the Romanian curriculum, and pupils are meant to get on and learn it.

And so, all in all, we still think we made a good decision to send him to this school, and that – here comes the controversial bit of this post – he is better off here than he would be at a bog standard comprehensive in England.

Our reasons for thinking so are related to the fact that in Romania, it is still the brightest in the class who appear to be the bellwethers. That is no longer the case elsewhere. We also have friends with children at the same school who have experienced schools in England. In their experience the level of difficulty appears to be far higher here.

A few years ago, we defended the Romanian education system – the primary part at least: the Romanian secondary and university education systems we are less keen on – in print. We had at that stage yet to test it in the flesh, as it were.

It’s therefore nice that our own experience of it has turned out be as good as we expected. And to any expat who may be worried about sending their children to a Romanian state school, you shouldn’t be. Just make sure you find the right one.