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Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Erin Goes Back To School

Maybe you've heard: my French language skills suck. The four years of French in high school, as well as the two years in college and the early instruction I got way back in kindergarten and first grade seem to have left almost no impression on me, and so it has been deemed by the French government, that, for my own good and the good of the realm, I must take language lessons. Thank God. It was getting awfully tiring to be sitting in a cafe, listening to conversation and trying desperately to follow what was going on, but eventually giving up and having to be satisfied with recognizing one word in every four or five. When you listen for five minutes and only catch "bird", "bike", "good" and "recycling", well ... it's a good thing I've never been of a suicidal temperment, because there are a lot of upper-story windows big enough for me to fit through around these parts.

I started classes at the beginning of September, and I think my word comprehension has increased to maybe one word in every three or so! I am starting to actually be able to piece together the meaning of conversations, and, at least in class, can even respond with only a minimal delay (in which my brain frantically pages through its French-to-English dictionary to search for the appropriate words). It's delightful. I think I may even be able to make friends soon, now that I am beginning to retain the correct vocabulary for more than just the weather, ordering in a bar, and standard greetings. I'll be able to strike up actual conversations! If you've never been in another country and not comfortable with the language, you can't even imagine the absolute relief in starting to solve the puzzle that lets you comprehend the world around you more fully. 

I go to the nearby town of Marvejols three times a week, from 8:30 in the morning until 4:30 in the afternoon to learn the intricacies of the French language and prepare for an exam called the DILF (Diplome initial de langue francaise) that I must take in December. My teacher is a lady of great patience and energy, and I love her. I won't give her name here, to protect her identity, but, trust me, the woman is a saint. We have never had a conversation in English, although if I get really stuck and say a word in English, she will give it back to me in French with nary a delay. I don't know what I will do when the class ends - maybe ask her to move in with me? Or adopt me? Maybe her kids won't mind a new, older, American sister.  

There are twelve of us in the class currently, and everyone is at different levels, but somehow it works and it's comfortable. We do a lot of spoken exercises together, which often includes what is called "presenting" yourself to the others: your name, your nationality, when you arrived in France, your marital status, if you have kids, your hobbies ... that sort of thing. And so I know that, out of the three Moroccan ladies who are in the class, two of them consider "cleaning" to be a hobby. Also, one gentleman from Portugal apparently has no hobbies at all except for weight training. (Since he is roughly the size and weight of a bantam rooster, I find this hard to believe.)  One lady, also from Portugal, insists she has no hobbies, and seems to get more and more offended each time we do this exercise. Considering that she has five children, I guess maybe she needs words for things other than "faire du ski" or "jouer au tennis". Makes sense. There are also two guys from Turkey, and we haven't been able to get any hobbies out of them yet, but I think that's because they don't understand what the hell we're asking - they only arrived in August. Luckily, one of them speaks a little English, so if all else fails, the teacher asks if I can explain in English. Some of the time, it even works! 

All kidding aside, it does help an awful lot to be a classroom and go through the rote exercises over and over - it cements them in your head. I almost swooned with pleasure when I went to the market today and had an actual conversation with a stranger that I could understand and make the appropriate responses to! Of course, it was about the weather and what I was buying, so it's not like we were discussing philosophy or quantum theory, but he said things, I understood them, and I answered him. I felt like bursting into song. (That probably would've seemed a little weird, though, so I refrained. I did hum on the way home.)

I still feel dumb almost every day. But, I've started to feel slightly less dumb, which to my mind is a huge improvement. And I have to say that most every person I've encountered here is willing to help. If you attempt their language, they're willing to cut you some slack. They'll repeat themselves, speak slower, whatever will help you gain understanding of a few more syllables. If they giggle at my accent or dismal grammar later, well, at least they had the good breeding to keep it to themselves until I was out of earshot. I'm gonna get there, folks. God bless the French government and my teacher and my classmates. One day, I'll actually be able to tell them all what their help and support meant to me, and I'll be able to do it in French. Yay!

Sunday, October 3, 2010

This is just a test!

I am in the process of trying to find a few ways to get paid for my writing, and this post is as the title suggests: just a test. In order to get myself listed with a particular service that may assign me some blog topics to write about, I need to post the words a dollar sign is the cheesiest within a post. And so, my mission is complete. 'Bye for now.