4.6 at Best

On Rating Systems in France

It’s been about a month since we went to Lyon, France. While we were there, we used google maps a lot. Mostly to find bakeries. I noticed that the ratings were much lower than in the U.S. I found this interesting.

My mother-in-law, Beatrice, who I’ve talked about a lot in the previous post, was curious about what I was writing on my computer while we were there. I told her, “France.” She wanted to know more, so I said, “How it’s different from the U.S.”

She was perplexed, “Really? You think it’s that different?”

And I said, “Si.” Yes.

This exchange made me question whether cultural differences really do differ on such grand scales. I mean, the United States has tons of cultures within it. How could I say that all of France was different from all of the States?

But, when I think about these google map rating systems, I think there is a bit of truth to it.

You see, in Lyon, all of these amazing bakeries were being rated as “4.2” or “4.4” or maybe “4.6.”

In Buffalo, places are often “4.9” or “5.0.”

I think this has to do with the American spirit and the sense of optimism present in the U.S.

We are an encouraging culture. Just today, I read in my Montessori parenting book to not always say “good job” to your child. Instead, simply say what they are doing like, instead of saying “Hey good job! You peed in the potty!” It asks us to consider simply saying, “You peed in the potty.”

This is to not create “praise-junkies.”

If you are worried that you are a praise junkie and need to go somewhere to detox, go to France. It’s just not a culture that praises you for peeing in the potty. It’s like, “Bah. Urine. No big deal.”

Being married to a French man for eleven years, I am well aware of the absence of praise. Vincent will compliment me, but not very often, so when he does, I’m like, “Oh my gosh. That was amazing.”

My own American parents and my American schooling often praised me. Even the other day, I was at my parents’ house and was putting my daughter in her car seat. She started squirming back and forth, not wanting to go in the seat.

I then told her that she was a cow and that I needed her to go to her cow home. This worked quite well.

My dad, standing in the driveway, smiled at me, “Lex, you handled that so well.”

Honestly, it was lovely to hear this. Sometimes I wish my American parents just followed me along all day and praised me for daily life.

“Lex, you made such a good cup of coffee.”

“Lex, you threw out that trash in a really efficient way. I like how you just throw it out your open window into the trash can.”

“Lex, your outfit is amazing. Nice selection of sweatshirt with yoga pants. Wow. Great choice for being a mom.”

If I’m at my parents house for like twenty minutes, I get a lot of these compliments. It’s helpful.

However, France has a certain darkness that I like. It is relaxing not to have to smile as much, not to have to say thank you for the compliment and not to have to cheer on businesses in google maps.

How can I say this? America and France should be great friends. I’m quite happy with my marriage and our parenting because the day needs the night and the night needs the day.