I'm the Dauphin in France

Chapter 1337 Public Schools and Kindergartens
The newly established Ministry of Science and Technology Education was very efficient; the teacher evaluation results for the new primary school on Pais Street in Angers were already out early the next morning.

Langlois found his name and grade on the notice board outside the principal's office and breathed a long sigh of relief: "B+ grade, now I don't have to tend to the flowerbeds."

Then he saw the "shining" A+ next to Le Maire's name and happily patted his old friend next to him: "So, you'll be getting 80 francs a month from now on!"

Previously, their vice dean's annual salary was only 1000 francs, and Le Maire's salary is almost catching up with his.

Le Maire shrugged: "I don't know how much I'll actually get."

According to the usual practice of church schools, salaries are often deducted by the superior religious order, and usually only about three-quarters are received.

Just as Langlois was about to ask Lemai to treat them, the newly appointed principal, who had just been transferred from Reims, came out holding a document and called out loudly, "Please invite Father Drom in."

A stern-looking, overweight priest responded and entered the principal's office with his head drooping.

Langlois just saw it on the bulletin board: Drom's assessment grade was D+.

A moment later, the fat priest came out, shouting angrily, "I'm not going to guard the warehouse! I'm going back to St. Locard Monastery!"

Then, the headmaster called in two more priests. One of them took a job managing the warehouse, while the other "followed" Drom back to the monastery.

The principal shook his head and muttered to himself, "If you ask me, half of them are not qualified... How long will it take to retrain them?"
“Oh, Father Lemaitre, please come in.”

Lemai exchanged a puzzled look with Langlois, a bad feeling rising in his heart. Could it be that Archbishop Marechal had spoken to the principal and was trying to cause trouble for him?

He frowned as he entered the principal's office, where the young principal gestured to a chair nearby: "Father Lemaitre, please sit down. I heard you graduated from the University of Poitou?"

"Yes, Mr. Principal."

“Very good.” The principal looked at him and smiled. “Your assessment results are the best among everyone.”

"I would like to ask you to serve as the academic affairs director of our school. What do you think?"

Lemai was taken aback and instinctively asked, "Where is Father Pakan?"

Pakan used to be in a similar position to an academic affairs director.

"His assessment was only a B-, and his Latin is terrible; at best, he can only be a math teacher. So, what's your answer?"

"Of course, I'd like to. Thank you, Principal."

Lema felt dizzy when he walked out of the principal's office. He had thought that he had offended Archbishop Marechal and would only be able to live as an ordinary teacher in this dilapidated church school until he died.

Unexpectedly, the government's reform of compulsory education gave him a new opportunity!
The academic affairs director is a high-ranking official in the entire school, second only to the principal and vice-principal.

I heard that the government will invest 7 francs in the expansion of this church school—now called a public primary school—and it will become quite well-known in western Angers.

Lema took a deep breath and secretly resolved that he must do his best to teach these students well!
A month later.

When Langlois and the other teachers received their salaries, they were all both surprised and excited.

Not only did the salary increase as required, but it was also paid in full.

Langlois counted his salary three times; it was exactly 38 francs, not a penny less!

He then peered into the thick stack of banknotes in Le Maire's hand. This wasn't surprising, given he was the dean of academic affairs.

The latter didn't hide anything, smiling slightly, "You actually have one hundred francs. On 'World Cup Day,' I'll treat you to an opera at the Grand Theatre in Rohan." "Are you serious? I remember a ticket was 15 francs!"

"of course."

As the two were talking, their colleague, Father Betten, walked over excitedly, waving his copy of the Angers News and saying, "Have you heard? Starting this month, we can choose to become civil servants."

Lemai hurriedly took the newspaper and saw where Betten was pointing—a new regulation from the Ministry of Science and Education, which states that the government will grant public school teachers civil servant status.

Father Bettan said, "However, if you want to be a civil servant, you have to leave the Catholic school fraternity."

In Europe, Catholic schools were managed by various religious orders, such as the Oratorians and the Catholic school fraternities of Lemaître and others.

Similar systems existed before; for example, if a priest wanted to become a government official, he had to leave the original monastic system.

Langlois replied without hesitation, "Of course, I'd choose to be a civil servant."

Just kidding, the government pays salaries very readily, and you also enjoy various benefits of civil servants, such as pensions.

Compared to other options, leaving a religious order simply means being unable to hold a clergy position in the future.

For cultivators of their low level, such an opportunity is simply impossible.

Le Maire nodded in agreement: "Clearly, civil servants are better."

He was eager to break free from the influence of the religious order, so that Archbishop Marechal could find it harder to deal with him again. Besides, now that he was a high-ranking official at the school, he had even less reason to have any attachment to the religious order.

In the following ten days or so, almost all of the tens of thousands of former church school monks across France chose to become civil servants.

After leaving the religious order, although they remained clergy, the church no longer had much influence over them.

In a short time, more than a dozen religious orders focused on education were dissolved due to a lack of members.

In this way, Joseph completely cut off any possibility that the French Church might ever try to extend its reach back into the education system.

While public schools were busy expanding, renovating, and enrolling students, government-run public kindergartens also began to appear throughout France.

Unlike the church's previous half-hearted efforts, the Ministry of Science and Education's millions of francs in funding resulted in kindergartens springing up like mushrooms during the rainy season.

Well, the bulk of this funding still comes from the Church—according to tax regulations, their tithes are to be used for education—but this is still much less than the tens of millions of francs originally budgeted by archbishops like Beaumont for an office-based childcare system.

To save money, Joseph allowed kindergartens in poor towns and villages to be located in local churches.

The Ministry of Science and Education will pay a small amount of rent to the church.

While the government promotes the construction of public childcare facilities, the church has actually contributed a great deal of effort.

Of course, the church leadership dared not voice any objections, since Mara was still investigating the accounts of each monastery one by one.

The Ministry of Science and Technology Education assigned only one trained principal to each village and town kindergarten, and the required "kindergarten teachers" were recruited directly from nearby housewives.

They usually take care of their own children at home, so this is just a little more work for them, and they can also earn some extra money. As a result, there are a lot of people signing up, and it only costs 10 francs per month.

(End of this chapter)