oh, Bastille Day (barely)

The day that thousands of French elementary schoolchildren are forced to do reports and participate in reinactments of their ancestors' bid for independence. This is much like what I imagine the 4th of July is for American children, except slightly crazier. You see, while America has Benjamin Franklin and George Washington and Paul Revere's ride--France has Marie Antoinette and the guillotine and the storming of the Bastille. So, not so much a traitorous (yet dignified) announcement of independence from the King of England--more of a prison break, really. A bloody and violent one. Complete with gigantic breasts, according to the old French currency. (Much more exciting if you ask me.) I can clearly remember Bastille Day in French school--Mom frantically sewing three French revolution-era costumes out of blue-white-and-red material for me and my brothers (complete with funny hats made to resemble a rooster's comb--no, I'm not kidding), wearing these ridiculous clothes to school, and then foregoing grammar and math lessons for a parade around town in our patriotic pajamas. Seriously. Kindergarten through 4th grade children walked the streets of our tiny town, singing "La Marseillaise" at the top of their lungs the entire time. We collapsed in a small park a few hours later while the mayor gave a speech about something boring. But it was all very exciting at the time--the costumed crowds, the cheerful marching, the fireworks, the loud singing, the day without math or grammar. Only my brothers were disappointed--no guillotine.