More on libraries and classes

Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything here. That’s mostly because a lot less strikes me now that I’ve been here for a while, but also because a lot of the same things keep happening, which would make for pretty boring writing. But a couple of things have come up recently that I find interesting to share.

First, French libraries again. I’ve mentioned already how I have to go library-hopping to get books that I need. Another problem is a dearth of research librarians. This was a problem a couple of weeks ago. I’ve decided to write my master’s thesis about the Just War theory, specifically its use in India during its 1971 war with Pakistan. Naturally I need a number of primary sources, so I was trying to locate speeches made by leading politicians of the time, such as Indira Gandhi, the Prime Minister at the time. After looking for a while, I couldn’t find anything obvious and I wasn’t sure what kind of publication would have collected such speeches. I happened to be in the main university library, so I headed to a librarian to ask for her help in my search. She contented herself with explaining how the library catalog worked, and that I needed to know the reference of what I wanted to look for. Now, I had already explained that I was a graduate student and that the difficulty I was having was precisely that of pin-pointing the resource I needed. When I mentioned once again that I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, she primly responded: “Well, that is a problem.” This was very frustrating for me. I’m in my 5th year of university, I know how to use a library catalog! So I decided to head to the big research library in another area of Lyon that specifically caters to graduate and doctoral students. I hope that I would be able to find a librarian there that could help me with my research, not simply show me how to use the catalog. To the credit of the man I talked with, he did put more effort into finding something in the catalog, using keywords. But he also, essentially, told me that I needed to know what I was looking for, and then he could me locate it in the catalog.
In Wooster, I would have been able to speak with the reference librarian on duty, who would have done all he/she could to help me figure out what I need. That’s at a small undergraduate college with 1,200 students. (I have to keep telling myself it’s free here.)

As I’ve written before, classes here are organized into modules of about 16 hours each. One such class was meant to have been given over a couple of days in February. The professor cancels, we have no word about what’s going to happen. Then, near the end of February, with one week’s notice, they reschedule the class over a couple of days. Later that week, the prof cancels again. No news for a while, then consternation among the students: we all received an email explaining that a different prof would be giving the class, but as he was coming down from Paris he could only do it over one day, on a Saturday. So about three weeks ago we all hauled out to campus at 9 am on a Saturday morning for 8 hours of classes. We were meant to be there for 10 hours, but the prof had to end class early because the campus closed early on Saturdays and that seeing as the building workers were salaried (as opposed to being paid hourly), they wouldn’t keep it open past the usual time. I don’t think I have any comment for that entire episode.

Finally, today, the wonderful Prof. J.- walks into class 10 minutes late and greats us with: “Hello! I’m half drunk, so don’t mind me.” Apparently he’d had too much wine at lunch. He sobered up pretty quickly though, because I didn’t notice anything different about his class. He did tell us a great anecdote though. Apparently in 1972, as a young researcher, he traveled to Montreal to attend the International Political Science Association conference. He also had some research to do in the States. When he tries to enter the US at the Canadian border, he gets turned around. Shocked, he goes to the American consulate when he gets back to Lyon. There, he’s told that there’s nothing that he can do, the CIA put him on a no-entry list because he had been a Trotskyist (i.e. communist) activist. Rebellious, he gets the French Political Science Association to write a letter of complaint to Henry Kissinger, National Security Advisor at the time. So Kissinger becomes involved and apparently personally allowed J.- into the country. Unbelievable.

Lunch

Most of the classes that I have are actually short modules. For example, the most interesting class I’ve had so far is on catastrophe theory as applied to international relations, which means that in fact they scheduled 15 hours of class on that topic, and that’s all. After that’s done, we move on to another module. The immediate result of this is that I don’t have a set schedule throughout the year. Instead, each week’s schedule can be slightly different. I’ll try and post a copy of my schedule so that you can get an idea of what I’m talking about.

Yesterday they had scheduled four hours of class on catastrophe theory. Obviously, four hours straight would be really painful, so they split them up into 2 two-hour classes before and after lunch. Except that this being France, lunch is taken seriously. So my lunch break yesterday was from noon to 2! Some friends and I went to the university cafeteria (the place where we can get a decent meal for €2.90), and had a great time eating and discussing international and American politics. (Apparently I’m once again the spokesman for the United States of America – what fun.) So that you can get an idea of the kind of food that served there, here’s what I had: a first course of pâté, tune steak for the main course, and then some cheese (I could have had pie but I thought I would go for the cheese course instead of the desert).

After hanging out there for an hour and a half, we slowly headed back to class. When we got there (about five minutes late) the door was still locked and no one was around. So we went downstairs to the café where we bought beers and continued our lunch discussion. Twenty-five minutes later the prof sent someone down to ask us to come to class (he wasn’t at all upset). Great times!

France, Algeria, wine and philosophy.

It’s thanks to this unfortunate goal that France managed to sneak into the 2010 World Cup. As the commentator points out, the players are at first offside, and then Henry uses his hand to redirect the ball. Bad. Yet I can’t bring myself to feel as ashamed of it as I should: I can’t possibly imagine a World Cup without France, and now France is in. If they hadn’t scored this goal, they might have gone to penalty kicks. Not an excuse, but still, I’m just happy that France is going to South Africa. (Sorry for the bad quality of this video by the way.)

Interestingly though, most of the festivities last night in France were to celebrate Algeria’s qualification to the world cup. There are quite a few Algerian immigrants, some of whom have been here for two or three generations, and their passions were unleashed. Which gave me a few insights into France that I thought I would share.

After lunch today I was walking back from the university cafeteria with a (white) friend of mine. We walked past a young Arab kid on his bike, who glared at us and shoved his bike towards me, as if he wanted to run me over. Two other friends of ours were walking a little ways behind us; they’re internationals that look like they could be Arab. When they walk past the kid he gets this huge smile on his face and starts cheering for Algeria. So that’s the first racial ‘comment’ directed to me since I’ve been back in France, and it kinda took me aback.

Earlier however, I had a quick chat with someone that went somewhat the other way around. There’s a middle-aged lady in our master’s program who’s talked to me a few times. This morning she came up to me and started talking about what she had been up to. She told me that she had gone to a concert last night, and that as the group was foreign, she went mainly to support “friendship between the peoples” (“l’amitié entre les peuples”). Then she complained about the wildness in town, and proclaimed to be shocked by the Algerian flags that people were flying. What about French flags? I retorted that that could also be considered a way to promote “friendship between the peoples.” I don’t think she appreciated.

I watched the France-Ireland match in bar in the old section of the city. Seated behind us was a group of Arabs. A friend of theirs came in carrying a couple of pizza boxes. When the friends realized that the pizzas were had sausage they repeatedly asked him whether it was pork, to which he replied that there was no need to worry, it was merguez. (Delicious, by the way.) Amused, I look over my shoulder, and notice that they’re all drinking beer. (FYI: Muslims aren’t meant to eat pork or drink alcohol.) I guess some things go and some things stay…

Also – as I said, a group of friends and I went to the university cafeteria for lunch today. When I reached the register to pay I was informed that everyone was being offered a free glass of wine! Only in France. Today is Beaujolais Nouveau day: Beaujolais Nouveau is wine from my region of France that is released the third Thursday of November, and is meant to drunk young (first six months). So the day it comes out is usually one of festivities. But it was a nice surprise to be offered some for free at lunch (and at a school cafeteria, no less)! My puritan American ways had gotten me out of the habit of that kind of thing. I’m delighted to plunge myself back into the decadent ways of the vine.

For a final touch, I thought I would quickly comment on the emphasis place on philosophy in France. It’s generally highly regarded, and it’s a required subject for all 12th graders. Even those that have chosen a science track in high school have to take three hours of philosophy a week. At supper tonight my sister, who’s in 12th grade, mentioned that she had a practice exam-essay session in philosophy. At the end of high school here all students sit extensive examinations at the end of the year. (If I remember right I sat a total of 37.5 hours of exams.) For philosophy you’re given essay topic, on which you’re meant to write a robust paper over the course of four hours. Throughout the year students will practice this skill, almost every week sitting a mock four-hour exam for a given subject. So today my sister had one of these practice sessions, during which she was asked: “What does one gain from the act of exchange?” (“Qu’est-ce que l’on gagne a échanger?”) Can you imagine doing that? You’re seventeen years old, you’re given that topic, placed in your seat in class and told: you have four hours – go! As much as I enjoyed the philo classes, I never did well for the papers. The topic I was given for the end-of-high-school exam was: “What is the/a psychic/mental unconscious?” (“Qu’est-ce que l’inconscient psychique?”) I’m still not sure what the question meant. I did not get a good grad.

Prof. J-.

This is from a previous year, but pretty illustrative of his style (note: no pictures here, just sound).

Cafeterias, libraries, and unisex restrooms…

A few smaller things have come to my notice this past week, so I thought I would share them with you. The first item, French university cafeterias, aren’t entirely new to me as they resemble what I was used to in high school (or “lycée”). Forget the American glory of all-you-can-eat helpings and large selections. That’s the bad side – but even I can’t complain considering the value of what we get in return. There is a network of university cafeterias in Lyon, all open only to university students. You line up with your tray and start by choosing one first course (typically some sort of salad), then your choice of desert or cheese, then proceed choosing which main course you would like from a selection of four or so possibilities. Add a small loaf of bread (“bun,” for the Brits), and you’ve got your three course meal, all for the sum of €2.90 (≈ $4.35). Astonishingly good value.

Something that is significantly different is the libraries. The first main difference is that they are significantly smaller. I had felt that this was the case for some time, but then last week I did some research and compared numbers. The College of Wooster, where I did my undergraduate studies, has 1,800 students and a library collection of approximately 374,000 books (excluding government resources). My current school, the Université Jean Moulin Lyon 3, has 22,500 students (12.5 times as many as Wooster) but its library collection has 200,000 fewer books than Wooster! I couldn’t believe it. The result is that there is a strict limit of six books that can be borrowed at one time, for only two weeks. That’s a far cry from what I was used to at Wooster, with not limit to books borrowed, and where seniors (fourth-years) could keep their books for the entire year! Furthermore, there is no centralized interlibrary loan system (such OhioLINK or CONSORT). Libraries do lend their books, but only bilaterally, and with a minimum €4 fee – ouch. This is a big thing for me – last year I often had as many as 100 books at my carrel at once! Here, if the book I want isn’t available at my library but is available somewhere else, I have to go to that library and sign up with them. As a result I’ve been doing a lot of travelling in Lyon these days, from one library to another! I now have an account in seven different Lyon libraries. Some of these have their own “charming” specificities: one library that had a book I needed is specialized in Arab culture and affairs. There you have to have a card to even get into the library, and you can’t borrow anything. Another library I’ve had to visit is the Catholic University’s library. The Catholic University is the only non-professional private university in Lyon (6,500 students), so it’s a considerable establishment. Which is why I was surprised to realize its main library wasn’t even really a library: it was just one reading room (seating capacity of 50 students or so), and every book needed to be requested from storage. It looks like doing research here is going to be very different than in the States. I think I’ll approach it as something of an adventure: the fearless Mark Hayward bravely challenging Lyonnais libraries to surrender their hidden book treasures….

Which all brings me to the final thing I wanted to write about: all restrooms at the main campus of my university are unisex. Now, I’m used to unisex restrooms – they’re not all that rare in France, and usually it just means that the restrooms only have stalls and can be used by either gender. Generally they’re found in smaller restrooms with only a couple of stalls. Not so at Lyon 3. Here, the restrooms are lavishly unisex: these are rooms that welcome both genders, but still include urinals! You know you’re in another culture when you’re standing at a urinal knowing that behind your back there are a half-dozen women waiting to wash their hands at the sinks. I wanted to take a picture of this to show you, but I figured that even in France taking pictures in the restrooms would be regarded as sketchy.

Classes

It turns out that Prof. J- is unusual even by French standards. My class schedule has gotten going a bit more, and I now have three classes a week or so. One of them is a class on the history of diplomacy. Technically, it’s supposed to be a class on the “Law and Practice of Diplomacy,” but it’s taught by an eminent diplomatic historian, so we’re pretty much just doing that. The guy’s a little full of himself – he’s very fond of his extensive studies, and his approach to teaching is somewhat like he’s doing us a favor by bestowing on us his great knowledge. It’s a two hour class, during which he exclusively lectures. I was somewhat surprised by this, as I’m much more used to getting that kind of information from assigned reading, and then discussing it in class. But I guess that’s just another cultural approach: the emphasis here is on learned professors sharing their knowledge, rather than independent research. Even so, I thought the guys was pushing it when he chooses to dictate the section headings of his class outline.

That was before I started the next class, which was about discourse analysis. The professor that teaches that class actually dictates his entire lesson! He reads it at dictation speed from his laptop, and we write down every word he says. Not much thinking involved, no assigned reading. It’s unfortunate, because when someone stops and asks him a question, he’s really good. He could be a great teacher, but he’s probably never experienced anything else, and is just following the methods he’s been taught. Funny story though: during our first class, he went around the room asking each of our names and academic backgrounds. One student, seated several seats in front of me, said that she had just got back from a year in the US. The prof responds with a whole diatribe about “Anglo-Saxon universities.” First of all, they aren’t really universities (at least not how the French think of them), they’re big commercial companies (“grandes entreprises”). Certainly, they have a lot of resources, but it’s a different (read: bad) approach to learning. Secondly, they might be greatly admired, but in his experience, “Anglo-Saxon universities” usually produce students that have only really scratched the surface of what they could learn, they haven’t really internalized what is expected of French students. He goes on like this for several minutes, during which I time I increasingly felt like maybe I should leave the room and never come back. A little while later it’s my turn to introduce myself: “My name is Mark, and I’ve done my studies in the United States, in political science.” Short silence, then a smile: “well, you must have felt a little targeted just now! Well, good, that will motivate you to prove me wrong.” Fortunately, he was nice about it. And I hope that I did prove him wrong – during his introductory class that followed he quizzed the students about various scholars of International Relations, and I was the only student who volunteered any names. He also talked about what was expected in a master’s thesis, all of which I had already studied two years ago in Junior IS (for those from Wooster who know what I’m talking about, things such as the need to be original, to choose a well delimited subject, to make sure you choose and answer a hypothesis, etc).

These individual approaches to teaching have been very different from what I’m used to, but the overall organisation is as well. For one thing, the class schedule still (after a month of school) hasn’t been completely established. Profs have a huge amount of independence – they teach what they want, almost when they want. Furthermore, they aren’t really classes so much as modules. Some of them have a total of 15 class hours – in other words, three weeks of class, then another class with another prof. None of them so far have had any assigned reading, and only one has even talked about a syllabus (but we don’t have it yet because the prof doesn’t have access to the intranet). Much of this is apparently specific to the second year of a master’s degree, where we’re meant to mainly concentrate on our thesis. Which is problematic, because I still have no idea what I’ll be writing about. So I probably should go think about that now…

First class

Two weeks ago, October 9, I had my first class – with Prof. J-. Title of the class: “Major Contemporary International Issues (Grands Enjeux Contemporains Internationaux).” It was a three hour class, held every other Friday morning. About a hundred students were in the room, and the prof used a mic to make himself heard. I quickly realized that this wasn’t just because of the number of students – he really needed the mic to make himself heard over the numerous private conversations going on during class time. People were talking to their neighbors, to those in front or behind them, without even worrying about keeping their voices down!

After about twenty minutes I realized why so many students weren’t paying attention to the prof – he wasn’t really saying anything of interest… This guy doesn’t teach, he thinks out loud. During the three hour class, he basically said the following:

The most important international issue is currently the financial crisis. Most if not all analysts are unable to make head or tail of it because they aren’t differentiating the two world systems have clashed. These are; 1. the world capitalist economy, 2. the inter-state system. Until now, states (countries) have controlled the economy, but currently the reverse is occurring.

That’s mostly paraphrase, but the point is that he could have said that in fifteen to twenty minutes when in fact he took three hours. Unbelievably boring. He would begin a point, I would get my pen ready to take notes, and then he would start to have a side-idea that he would expound on, and then another and another. Example:

We must, as social scientists, create models. A good model will be able to describe and predict. But wait – not predict everything! A model, for example, won’t be able to predict why this student in the front row is wearing something red in her hair. Maybe she got out of bed and felt like she need red to cheer herself up. Maybe she always wears something red in her hair. Maybe she trying to attract the young man at the back. Maybe… Who knows, there are many possibilities… And maybe for her, she does want the model to be able to explain to her why she decided to wear something red in her hair. Maybe all of you in the class need a model to explain why she is wearing something red in her hair. In that case, maybe you can create one. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

The whole class was like that. Furthermore, near the end of the class he implied that banks were the culprits behind the assassinations of Lincoln and JFK. Supposedly, Lincoln needed money for the Civil War, so he asked to borrow from banks. The banks proposed a huge interest rate, which infuriated him. He got so angry that he was preparing some sort of measure that would limit the powers of banks. Shortly afterwards he was killed, and his successor immediately reversed the measures. JFK tried to do something similar, he was also shot, and his successor (who he mistakenly claimed was Ford) also reversed the measures. “I’m not stating who killed the president. But you’ll notice that there is a pattern…”

It’s unfortunate really, because he really is remarkably intelligent. He knows a ton of stuff on almost everything, from social science to history to the hard sciences… He would be great one on one, but he can’t really teach. Fortunately, my other classes haven’t been that way!

Back-to-school meeting

Friday, October 2, was the first official meeting of the school year, and it proved to be a foretaste of what I should expect. Around sixty students filed into a small classroom that obviously hasn’t been renovated since the 1980s. The meeting is informational, intended to explain what the specificities of the degree we’ve signed up to do. First oddity – hardly anybody stops talking when the professor starts. This continues during the entire two-hour meeting: students talked to each other all the time, making no effort to keep their voices down. Second oddity: the professor begins by essentially yelling at everybody.

“My name is the professor J.-P. J-. My phone number i x and my email address is y. And let’s immediately make one thing clear: I am in charge of this master’s program, and no one else! It is my signature on the diploma, and legally, I am the only decision-maker! “

I’m somewhat shocked at this introduction, but apparently no one else is, apparently only about half of the students are even paying attention. After this outburst the prof continues in a completely normal tone of voice, talking mostly about mundane things such as deadlines. One female students asks (or rather shouts above the din) a question, apparently about deadlines. The prof obviously didn’t like something about the question, because suddenly, out of nowhere, he starts yelling at her. But this time he’s really yelling, absolutely furious. There was no forewarning in his tone of voice, and I didn’t even understand what he was talking about or why the student’s question was so offensive. Fortunately, she’s completely undisturbed, and yells right back at him!

The meeting lasts for a couple of hours before we’re all dismissed. Because the system is so different, I’m utterly at a loss to understand about a third of it, but the experience what enlightening enough.

One other thing though: something that struck me then and has continued to strike me since, is how few resources seem to be available to keep up the buildings. Most places seem to be left over from the ’80s or early ’90s, somewhat similar to what old Kauke used to be like for those who’ve experienced that. For example, in class today the prof wanted to use an overhead projector (something that in itself is becoming pretty rare in the US), but he had to give up because the fan was so loud we couldn’t here him speak. And in one classroom I was in last week, a window pane was broken, and was simply covered up with cardboard and duct-tape. Furthermore the main building is really intriguing, I wish I knew more of its history. It’s one of those old -shaped official residence-type structure, if you’re at all familiar with what I’m guessing is 19th century European architecture. There are (I think) three main staircases, and three or four floors. But on the landing between each floor are doorways and hallways leading to seemingly architecturally impossible locations – these are called ‘between-floors’ (“entresol”). So the floor numbering goes: ground floor, ‘between floor’ leading to the first floor, first floor, ‘between floor’, second floor, second floor ‘between floor,’ third floor. Or something like that. Quite often you have to go down half a floor and come back up on another staircase to get to another room on the same floor where you started! Last week, I had class in a room whose door was on the ground floor, but the room was actually on the first ‘between-floor,’ so it has its own private staircase leading up to it. Weird!

Getting in.

I’ve just started a graduate program in France after 4/5 years of college in the States. The experience is so different that I’ve decided to record some of it, at least as it gets started. This is mostly for me, but I thought some others may also be interested.

About three weeks ago I was accepted into the second year of a Master’s program, which in France is called Master 2. French undergrad degrees are done in three years, so they recognized my four-year American degree as being equivalent to the first year of a master’s. The subject is technically “Political Science & International Relations – Security & Defense” with a ‘major,’ if you like (“parcours”), in International Relations & Diplomacy. The school is the Université Jean Moulin – Lyon 3, a public university and the third biggest in the Lyon area.

The first major difference with the States is that fact that I was able to get in at all. Since graduating in May, I had know a few ups and downs in terms of future plans. I had been told by the financial aid department of Queens University Belfast that I had been accepted there, only to find out in late July, after having returned to France, that I was not. I then looked at programs that were available in Lyon, and applied to the only one that was still open and remotely interesting, a program in public policy and comparative government at the Institute of Political Science. Eventually I was told that I was not accepted because my career goals were not what they were looking for. At this point I mostly gave up, deciding that somehow I would have to find a job in this country where unemployment rate for under 25s has jumped 40.6% since last year.

Then, talking to a family friend at church about my plight, she told me that it was stupid to give up. “You should call and visit the deans at every school that offers a program that would interest you, explain that you’ve just arrived from America, and ask if you can still get in.” So the next day (Sept. 21) I called around, asking about schools about who I could contact to see if I could still get in. The person I got on the phone at Lyon 3 told me that it was way after the deadline (end of June), but I could email a certain Mr. J-., which I proceeded to do. On the Wednesday I get an email from him simply stating that “it should still be possible” but that I should act quickly and get in contact with the secretariat of the master’s programs (who were the people I had called in the first place). So I go down to the university and go to the main secretariat for master’s programs offered by the law school (which hosts the political science department). Try and keep track here – this is an insight into French bureaucracy. The person there says that while I might have a chance of getting into the first year of a master’s, there’s no way I can get into the second year program (not because I didn’t have the right level, but because it was too late). I ask if there is someone specific I should talk to, and she vaguely directs me to an office across the entrance hall, belonging to “her colleague” (who she declined to name). I find my way there, and repeat my inquiry into the possibility of getting into a master’s program. The lady in this office looks at me scornfully and tells me that it was far too late. I reply that that is what I had thought, but that when I asked on the phone I was told to email Mr J-, who in turn told me that it should still be possible. The secretary then says “well, if Mr J- says so…” and leaves it at that. Confused, I try and decipher what she meant. She then tells me that if Mr J- says it’s possible, then it probably is, but it would be unfair to those on the waiting list. At this point I’m very confused, especially seeing as I have no idea who Mr J- is or why he would tell me I could get into a program if there is already a waiting list. So I decided that fair or unfair isn’t my problem, and ask what I should do. The lady tells me that she’s going to need a note from Mr. J-, so I trek through a very confusing 18th or 19th century building to his office. I’m still unsure of who this man is, other than the fact that he seems to have some mysterious power over the ground floor secretaries. After waiting outside his office for a meeting to end, he lets me come in and state my case. When I’ve explained my situation he tells me that it shouldn’t be a problem as long as I would be interested in a research ‘major’ rather than a professional one (that prepares for a career), and writes down as much on a piece of scrap paper. I bring this down to the secretary, who when I relay to her Mr. J-’s words, has the nerve to tell me: “well yes, absolutely, that’s what I was telling you.” She says I still need to fill out the official application form, which I take home with me and hand in the next day (Friday, 9/25). I call her up on Tuesday to see if she needed any other paperwork, but mainly to remind them that I exist (something you often need to do here if you don’t want to fall through the cracks), and she annoyedly tells me that she’s just sent out my acceptance letter!

So on Sept. 29 I find out I’m accepted, and receive the letter on Sept. 30. But I’m still not officially signed up – there’s a whole bunch more paperwork (much of which are the same documents I’ve already sent in for my application) that I need to bring to the school for the “inscriptions” (sign-up process). I do the first part online, as directed, and make an appointment for that afternoon. When I arrive at the university however, I’m greeted with a sign on the door stating that the sign-up center would be closed from Monday-Wednesday. So much for the online appointment system. I show up again the next morning and wait for the office to open (at 9) with about 30-40 other students, only to be told about half an hour later that the office wouldn’t open until that afternoon. On the third try I make it, but have to wait in line for 45 minutes while dozens of students before me go through the same process of having their documents checked, their photos taken, get their documents checked again and finally fill out a check. Actually, the chaos of the scene kind of reminded me of the old arena registrations at Wooster. But I was eventually fully signed up, and made an official student of the Lyon 3 University. Full cost for a year: about $750, including basic health insurance, about $600 of which will probably be reimbursed as a financial-need scholarship. Yay for public education!

Of course, at no point during this entire procedure did anyone care to tell me whether classes had started yet, or when they would if they hadn’t. I finally found out by calling the scornful secretary, and headed to the back-to-school informational meeting on Oct. 2. But more on that later…