On becoming Swiss, part three (and a half)
From the archives: Interview trauma
Originally published in December 2016, after we passed our interviews.
When we received our written invitation, I was mightily surprised to see that our son’s presence was also requested.
(This being Switzerland, his presence required me to apply in writing for permission to take him out of school an hour early in the afternoon.) (We’re getting the hang of this.)
So the three of us put on nice clothes, did some styling of hair, and showed up a properly Swiss 20 minutes ahead of our appointment so we could get our pictures taken. When the agenda booklet is published for the June 2017 town meeting, our wholesome faces will be included under item 4.b.
A solid hour with a panel of three: the Stadtammann (Head of the Town Council, like the mayor); the nice clerk in charge of naturalizations; and another lady from the village office, who was assigned to take notes. It was rather jovial, in fact. The three of us took turns answering questions; my son was rather impressive for a 10-year-old. When asked about sports that are unique to Switzerland, I piped up with my personal favorite, Hornussen. My son then pointed out that this is also played in South Africa and a couple towns in northern Germany. The Lord Mayor was nonplussed. Boy then documented his source, which happened to be the Schwingen collectors’ album he won by correctly picking the winner at the Bernisch Kantonales Schwingfest this summer. Silent nods of acknowledgement around the table.
It’s a good thing the boy is so well-informed about Swiss national sports (not to mention the recently inaugurated groundwater pump station, which communities border on our town, and other local trivia). The panel was in possession of a letter from the school principal, which indicated “difficulty integrating into the class”.
Holy cow. I knew that our employers had to provide reference letters, but for a third-grader?1 So my small blue-eyed charmer got a lecture on fitting in and contributing positively to the school community, while my mouth went dry and his father’s eyebrows vanished under his hairline. This was worse than St. Nick going through the naughty-or-nice list.
No further show-stoppers, unless you count our collectively being unable to name more than two of the five town council members. I did know that they were all men. Maybe I should run for office when this is all done.2
ICYMI:
On becoming Swiss, part three
Originally published in November 2016, when we were invited to take our tests.
https://carolinesmrstik.substack.com/p/on-becoming-swiss-part-two
https://carolinesmrstik.substack.com/p/on-becoming-swiss-part-one
This resulted in us pulling him out of the village school and sending him to Montessori for three years. Best idea.
Spoiler: I have not run for office in the ensuing eight years. But that’s only because the school board was abolished in 2021, otherwise I’d be raising hell (see footnote 1).