The baccalaureat, not the suitcase

A movement is growing for the defence of 'sans papiers' in school

By Nathalie Castetz and Charlotte Rotman

2 July 2004, Libération, France (translated by Institute of Race Relations)

In the beginning, they thought they were playing truant. But after a while they were forced to face facts: If X is no longer coming to class, it is because he has been put in a plane: sent back to Bamako.

'I remember the first time one of my students told me that he was 'sans-papiers' - the shock', recalled Richard Moyon, a teacher at Châtenay-Malabry. A history and geography teacher in a post near Paris, confided: 'I cannot teach a class in the normal way when I am facing K. who is in danger of being sent back to Morocco. Throughout the year, teachers were rung and parents of students in primary or nursery school were outraged and marshalled themselves to the tasks at hand without respite. By the end of the scholastic year, what the threats meant became clearer to them. Everyone feared they would see students depart and would be left with nothing but their face on a class photo. Several years ago, teachers from Val-de-Marne who had come to the Nanterre tribunal to support a foreign colleague, came upon one of their students, Simon, handcuffed and under an expulsion order. In order to avoid it coming to that, an appeal was launched 'to regularise sans papiers in school'.

Reticence

But to help these students it is still necessary to understand their situations. Thierry just passed his 'bac' (gained his higher education certificate) at Créteil. His mother, brothers and sisters are here. At 18 years, he reached the age where he tipped over into illegality. 'I did not want to talk about it. In school, the subject was treated with jeering or abuse. They would say: 'stupid sans papiers'. Teachers must overcome their reticence. Monique, a teacher in a lycée (school) at Massy said: 'Students came to see me because they found out that I belonged to the League of Human Rights (LDH). But we had to speak in a low voice. They asked me not to say anything to others.' In her institution, three students demonstrated: one Turk, one Cameroonian, and one Malian. At Saint-Denis, at Lycée Suger, four cases were accounted for. 'One [of the students] is Beninoise,' Marisa, a teacher there, explained. 'She has lived in France for four years and wants to be a nurse. She has no papers. She was my student and I did not know that.'

When adolescents - who are often without parents in France - dare to make their situation known, they do not remain on their own for very long. Solidarity is quickly established. At Châtenay-Malabry, Lycée Jean-Jaurès was mobilised on behalf of Gladys, a Haitian, and Sandrina, an Angolan. Two student residency permits were obtained. In the Val-de-Marne, a petition for Ramata, a lycée student from Mali in Charenton, and Leopoldo, a Chilean in school at Choisy-le-Roi, collected 1,500 signatures. Post cards with a photo of the undocumented two were produced by the Lycée. Both were finally able to obtain residency permits. The collective 'Education sans frontières' (Education without borders), which was formed this week, encouraged young people to come out from behind teachers' shadows and organise vigils. 'At the beginning of the autumn term there must be a team of teachers ready to assist in each establishment', Richard Moyon stressed.

This year, the mobilisation reached nursery and primary schools. One morning, in Paris, Ramzan did not come to school. Nor the following day. Nor the day after that. His parents, summoned to appear at police headquarters, preferred to vanish. In the same school complex in the XII arrondissement, the primary school teachers discovered that other children, also Chechens, were in danger of being expelled from France with their families. Since that time, parents have organised a debate on Chechnya, held weekly meetings, corresponded by mail and sent out official letters. They have created a website and collected 1,700 euros in one month to pay a lawyer.

Civics

This is not an isolated case. In Nantes, parents occupied several primary schools, and entered into their books 135 school students under threat. In Havre, last Saturday, the mobilisation took off at an elementary school where three Angolan children were students when a deportation order declared against the father was delivered. 'I teach children civics and human rights, and so they do not understand this', said their teacher, Marc Girard. No one knew the family's situation. Since then, banners of protest have been put up on the walls of the school, and messages of support, written by children, were pinned up on notice boards.