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…

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~ by Carnildo on October 10, 2009.