The International Engineer

Sunday, February 26th , 2023

Something I’ve never realized about myself is the extent to which I say something self-deprecating. Self-deprecation, as I see it, is much more normalized in the US. In fact, it is implicitly encouraged and those with the ability to flippantly dismiss themselves are seen as humble (with a good sense of humor). Plenty of professors who I adored personality wise frequently called themselves out on their own “carelessness with numerical signs, stupidity during a lecture…” And while it is obvious that they are not stupid and careless (instead likely some of the most meticulous and brilliant people in their fields), it is their ability to poke fun at their own mistakes that makes their personalities endearing. 

However, when I came to France, I found that self-deprecation was extremely uncommon. During my electrical engineering lab course, whenever I made a mistake and said “Oops, sorry I’m stupid,” I was met with outrage from my two fellow lab partners. They vehemently said “no you’re not!” and looked upset that I would use such language. After a few occurrences, I realized that I had to stop using self-deprecating language and started observing how they reacted when they made mistakes. 

Now I should mention that in observing and taking on a temporarily silent role, it is possible that this act itself influenced their reactions to mistakes. To simplify matters, I will address this point later. 

My first conclusion was that people in France don’t address their mistakes at all. After pointing out that the current should go in the other direction to my lab partner, she simply said “oh” and changed the marking on her paper. My professor said the same “oh” when he made multiple sign or math mistakes on the board. Even with more intense and direct encounters such as when my lab partner and I were debating whether quadratic and polynomial equations were synonymous, she had no visible reaction after realizing that Google contradicted her idea. Thus, I came to the conclusion that being wrong was not a big deal in France. After all, it elicited a next to nothing response. 

However, details in my other classes further refined this conclusion to something more nuanced. The key was in how professors reacted when someone said an answer. The professor would ask a question and the student would provide a correct numerical answer. And then the professor would ask, “but can you explain it?” If the student could not explain or the explanation was unsatisfactory, both the answer and the explanation were wrong. In other words, it’s not truly right until you can explain why it’s right. So the French cared about being correct. And the path to correctness meant being correct every step along the way. 

The nonchalant “oh” upon making a mistake it not an indicator that the mistake is not a big deal; it is in fact an attempt to de-emphasize being wrong. After coming to this conclusion, everything began falling into place. 

I could now make sense of why our classroom discussions were often silent. The professor would ask a question and nobody would raise their hand. Finally, an American would answer and say “well I don’t have the correct answer, but this is my thought process.” A French student would answer only when they have both the correct answer and correct explanation for it. To put it into other words, an American study-abroad student in my cohort said the following: “It’s only the Americans who get stuff wrong.” 

Earlier I had discussed the idea of reflexivity and having awareness of how in making observations I could be further influencing the situation I want to study. While it is possible that by being more silent I further heightened the emphasis on being correct, I think the observations of my fellow students and being in a classroom setting serve as more concrete evidence for the above theory —  that there is a direct explanation for why the French react to making mistakes so differently than us Americans. It all boils down to core values, something that we discussed in my French culture class. Americans care about being liked by everyone; they have a desire to please. The French care about being right. And with just these two few sentences, many of my classroom observations and experiences can be explained immediately. 

I was rereading the Bonjour Effect and found a warning that I wish I had read earlier before coming to France. It said to never be self deprecating because you will look like a fool in France. For the French, self-deprecation is a means to share your “faux-pas,” your blunders, with the world. By not sharing anything, you can still be right. But by sharing that you are stupid, you can most definitely not be right. And to be wrong in France is a big no-no.