"Protests Are Fine, but I Have Coding Class": When French Students Stage Their Own Revolution

Arriving early at the lycée gates, I walked straight into what students here proudly refer to as their student revolution. It is an annual late-October tradition. Preparation is taken seriously: cardboard signs are covered in bold red letters, and the most dedicated participants turn themselves into living billboards, painting slogans directly onto their arms and faces.

Armed with their signs, a crowd forms outside the gates on its own initiative, chanting at the top of their lungs as if saving their voices for tomorrow's classes were completely out of the question. Their favorite game: urging passing drivers to honk in solidarity, which cars eagerly do with sharp blasts of their horns.

The spirit of the French Revolution is unmistakable. That legendary history lives on among today's teenagers in this exact format—a vibrant tribute to freedom of expression and the sacred right to protest. My only regret was not pulling out my camera fast enough to capture the energy from the front lines.

Meanwhile, as a "crucial" participant in the day's events, I quietly slipped through the crowd. Protests are great, but exams won't write themselves, and fortunately, the side gate was kept unlocked for students like me. Guarding the entrance were a supervisor and the headmaster himself, standing by as neutral observers. For the school administration, this too is an expected, annual milestone.

After walking down eerily quiet corridors, I reached my classroom. Only two of us had shown up. It turned out to be an unexpected stroke of luck: our computer science class transformed into an exclusive, one-on-one tutoring session. With all the time in the world, the teacher personally walked me through every bug and bottleneck in my code.

I assumed everyone would trickle back after lunch, but the boycott held strong. Although a few more people wandered inside, there were never enough students to run regular classes. We ended up with nearly seven unplanned free hours, while distant chants echoed from outside—a clear sign that local pharmacies would soon see a rush on throat lozenges.

It is a fascinating example of living heritage. Young people are carrying on the rebellious folklore of their ancestors. This soft power offers inspiration to anyone learning how to stand up for their rights and claim their voice. At least, that is how I see it.