Raising a Family in France

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The learning curve of settling a family on foreign soil proved more difficult than I anticipated. The six weeks before school started, we learned more about ourselves and the world than we had in the last six years. The initial culture and sticker shock convinced me that I should have referenced a French etiquette book and attained at least a basic knowledge of the language before moving intercontinentally. I committed social suicide almost every time I exited the courtyard: I smiled at the wrong times, offending passersby on les rues, I neglected to greet bakers and boutique owners upon shop entry, I expected employees to help me when I patronized their stores (achieving satisfactory customer service is an art here), and my son and daughter shocked even the French children with their loud speaking and lack of refinement. Moreover, my son's friend withdrawal broke my heart. He missed his amis in the U.S. terribly, and resorted to drawing imaginary playmates until he met new friends a month later.

Furthermore, I almost dislocated my jaw—it dropped repeatedly as I price-checked linens, toys, towels, and food items (until I discovered a nearby IKEA). French customs also shocked us with a nontransparent €300 tax on the three boxes we shipped from the U.S., about the worth of the contents. Securing enough loans to cover tuition and living expenses for four also posed major difficulty, particularly in 2009. We gawk at how quickly our funds evaporate—the high cost of living and the weakening of the dollar against the euro improve our already impeccable budgeting prowess.

Enchanted with Paris

As much as I detest French bureaucracy, or how our crazy neighbor upstairs periodically shuts off our boiler, or performing the stroller tango with pedestrians, bicyclists, and even car drivers on the narrow, dog-poo-laden sidewalks, lots of things continue to wow me about France. Of course, the beaches, happening arts scene, and beautifully dressed men and women fiercely prancing the streets like runway models are enchanting. And, more practically speaking, the medical system in France is impressive. I love my OB-GYN (our baby boy is due Mar. 2, 2010), whose competence and flexible work hours I adore. (My last appointment was at 8 p.m. Excellent!) My pediatrician also deserves kudos. I e-mail him any time I have questions regarding a sick child, and he calls personally within two hours. The relatively inexpensive nannies also thrill me (and our student coffer). We paid $20 an hour for babysitting in San Francisco, and here the average nanny costs €6 to €7 per hour. Ergo, we actually attend the theater and sample the local gastronomical delights more than before Mark entered school. In addition, the public kindergarten my 3-year-old attends makes this mother happy. Prepared to spend hundreds of dollars per month for preschool in the U.S., I embrace the free early-childhood education. As a bonus, my son's comprehension of French surpasses mine.

Several weeks of setting up shop transpired, and after Mark's intense French training course (INSEAD requires all students to learn a third language) and my week of French tutorials, orientation week finally arrived. Our family salivated at the opportunity to: a) connect with new friends from multiple countries; b) discover the ins and outs of INSEAD's campus and its perks (including a tres cool family room); and c) embark on the educational trek that permanently seals Mark into a fabulous, worldwide network. The euphoria tangibly filled the campus—a million introductions, meetings, cocktail socials, and parties, not to mention a sprinkling of core classes, left us all staggering by the end of our debut week.

Student Camaraderie

The elements of cutthroat competition and individual sabotage seem nonexistent here. INSEAD refuses to post grades for this very reason. A camaraderie develops instead. As I waltz through the halls and school restaurant with my double stroller, I witness a dozen people exchanging salutatory kisses, 10 smokers speaking in different languages, yet all understanding one another, five students grabbing beers at the bar, and two playing squash in the rec room. Before we came, we heard rumors that there's a party every night at INSEAD. The stereotype is true. People just can't seem to get enough of each other, and finding balance between school work and social events becomes key to survival. While single students and those with partners (but without children) view party life as core to their INSEAD experience, many families find alternative methods of socializing. We decided to focus our networking energy on rugby matches, children-centered activities, dinners, and rendezvous in the family room.

Ultimately, the first period exceeded our expectations. Although the children and I rarely saw Mark as he studied and attended classes/tutorials for 12 hours a day, including weekends, we still made time for a few family jaunts to Paris, the French coasts, and the picturesque countryside. Moreover, the active partners and parents groups keep me satisfied and entertained. One INSEAD employee is dedicated to student and partner life, and volunteers head up various groups and activities (that occur daily) geared specifically for partners and children. With the INSEAD network in place, I never feel lonely. However, my favorite MBA-wife perks are the free and highly applicable workshops. Any time I can snag a babysitter, I attend and relish in seminar education with my new INSEAD peeps.

Bonni Bohn's husband, Mark, is attending INSEAD in France. A full-time mom to 1- and 3-year-old children, Bohn is originally from a small oil refinery town in Texas. Before pausing her career to raise her children, Bohn worked at the San Francisco Center for Economic Development, a small nonprofit organization dedicated to attracting and retaining business in the city

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