Well, I've really done it this time. And it's going to be my own fault if my head explodes because of it.
The "it" being the 4-month intensive French course I signed up for at the famous Sorbonne... where, according to my new professor, such luminaries as Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis and Hillary Rodham Clinton came to study French. However, I am not a congenital overachiever; I just want to have an easier life in France.
Some months ago, I decided I really did need to commit some serious time and effort to studying French. You might assume that living in Paris would automatically make it easy to accelerate one's competency in the language, but you'd be dead wrong. As an Anglophone living in France, at least in a major city like Paris where there are at least 100,000 English-speakers living here (not counting tourists), you quickly discover how easy it is to stay mired down in your comfortable little social clique, so that you really don't need to develop your French beyond a standard set of situational phrases designed to get you in and out of the supermarket, pharmacy or doctor's office without much trouble. Other than that, you could go days, even weeks, without speaking a single word of French.
Which is why during the first 12-18 months of my life here, I made so little progress. Even meeting Georges didn't require me to push myself very hard to learn the language; his English was excellent, and even the two older kids spoke English well enough that we could at least communicate. I did have to pick up some new vocab to get to know the Little Guy and talk to his nanny, but you'd be surprised how much you can accomplish with non-verbal communication.
But now, I'm really HERE. For GOOD. And the roller-coaster of our first few years together as a couple and family have finally settled down to the point where I really DO have the time and energy to devote to some formal studies. My step-kids are constantly ragging on me that I need to improve my French, and I cannot dispute this (even as I am tempted to remind them that because of me and all the English we speak around here, they have BOTH accelerated their English skills and improved their grades... ahem). Add to this, the fact that I really would like to be more independent and be able to take care of more things on my own, without needing to lean on Georges all the time. Like yesterday, for instance. The new parquet floors our landlords installed before we moved in have started to heave and buckle in the past 4 months, and they need to be replaced. The parquet guy phoned me to schedule a time to come and look at the damage, and I got through THAT ok. But when he got here, I wanted to make sure I was getting everything he was saying, because most of the time when it's something important, I simply cannot trust my ability to comprehend what the other person is saying, and to know with confidence that I'm getting it right. So, I had to phone Georges and interrupt his day so that he could speak to the parquet guy himself. And wouldn't it be nice for both of us if that hadn't been necessary? I mean, not that Georges minds, but it's just that back in the States I had no trouble dealing with workmen, electricians, plumbers and snarky insurance people, all on my own... here, my lack of fluency is a real liability.
Bottom line: I owe it to myself and I owe it to Georges to make more of an effort. And it sure won't hurt when I apply for French citizenship in two more years, either, when I can show "them" that I took this step toward integration.
And so, I enrolled at the Sorbonne, having had several people tell me what a great, if challenging, program they offer. I thought to myself, hey, I really need a challenge. I need something a few notches above my beloved French in Action series, and although I could have done a less structured program at the Alliance Française (I hear they have good programs, too) or over at Berlitz (also excellent), I thought that for once, I really needed someone to kick my ass with grammar and pronunciation.
Well, be careful what you ask for, right?
After doing the official enrollment a little over a week ago, I had the placement test, both written and oral. After doing the written test, where some parts were easy but overall I found it very challenging (and wondered how a newbie would have been able to answer even ONE question, it was THAT hard), I began to doubt if I would qualify for the avancé level or if I would find myself, once again, in intermédiare... where it seems I have spent the past 20 years of my studies. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, so to speak. Pfft. I wanted to feel like I was really getting someplace, even though I know I have a lot of work to do to achieve real fluency.
But when I sat down one-on-one with the oral test evaluator, I was able to express myself well enough, apparently, that she wrote "avancé - / intermédiare +" in the corner of my test paper, which meant I was sort of on the line... and I had instinctively felt that would be the case. So I told her that, all things being equal, I would prefer more of a challenge, if she felt I would do okay in the advanced level group. Of course, she wouldn't commit to anything, but she seemed to take my comments into account.
I had to wait until October 5th to find out my official level and get my class assignment and books. And voila! I'm in "avancé!" I got my textbook (an anthology/selection of French literature... which sort of surprised me, I was expecting some sort of grammar book), found out what my course hours would be (the 10-noon Monday-Friday time slot I had requested), and my teacher's name (M. Laurent). Classes started the very next day, Wednesday the 6th. And I still hadn't had my phonetics placement test or class assignment; this program includes, on alternate weeks, an additional hour spent in the phonetics lab to work on pronunciation. So maybe I will one day be able to pronounce "grenouille" properly (this has become a family joke around here, because apparently, I was taught wrong all these years).
So here's how the first week has gone:
Day 1: I arrive at class nearly 20 minutes late, thanks to the stupid 85 bus which got itself stuck behind a recycling truck on a long, narrow street where there is no way around or out. The professor seemed to take my tardiness in stride, and I felt a little better when five other students wandered in after me, one of them over 30 minutes late. We spent that first class doing introductions, and it was clear the professor was genial and had a sense of humor. He is into Harley Davidsons and seemed thrilled that one of the four male students was from Milwaukee, where Harley Davidson apparently originated (?) So far, so good. He said we'd work on one literature text each week, but not to panic, we weren't going to read the entire book. He said that every Monday (except the first Monday), there would be a test on grammar, and told us which grammar text to go out and buy, as well as to get a French-only dictionary (believe it or not, I didn't already have one of those). Overall, I thought it wasn't a bad start for the first day, although there were times I couldn't quite follow everything he said ... something I have been nervous about, since I have difficulty with fast-talkers in French.
Day 2: the nightmare begins in earnest. I arrived on time, and even with time to spare for a pre-class coffee at a nearby café; that was the only good part of the experience. He starts us off by giving us the actual final exam from 2008, so that we could see what sort of thing might be required of us for OUR exam in January. Oh. My. God. It took me forever just to read the instructions and questions for each section of this 4-page test, and I never DID do any of the questions on the last page because we ran out of time. I didn't understand some of the instructions because the grammar terminology in French was unfamiliar to me. And I began to realize that all the French grammar instruction I had received in my life? Was through ENGLISH-language textbooks. And the French have very different methods of teaching their own language "in-house". So this is going to be problematic.
I also realized that my education in ENGLISH grammar has been lacking, despite the fact that I was always placed in "honors" English in high school and college, mainly on the strength of my writing ability, which is my natural gift in life. But in my shitty excuse for a high school education, we never had to write essays or themes (imagine my humiliation on the first day of college, Honors English Comp 101, when the professor started talking about writing themes and I innocently raised my hand to ask him what a theme WAS? And he looked at me like I should be in the slow class.) We didn't really do any serious grammar work. Frankly, now that I think back, I don't think we did much of anything, since the head of our English department was also the school's track coach, and he was too busy being the "cool teacher" to require us to work very hard. Case in point? On our English final my senior year, he added a 10-point bonus question, based on our weekly Monday-morning recap of that weekend's Saturday Night Live show (original cast circa 1978-79): "True or False: Spot is the real name of Mr. Bill's Dog."
I am not even remotely kidding about that. Which is so sad for me.
Anyway, it's hard enough to get a handle on French grammar and, say, the futur anterieur or plus-que-parfait tenses, if you already know what that equates to in English. But as I said to Georges last night, during the nuclear meltdown I was having, while I know that plus-que-parfait translates into the "pluperfect" in English... I had no fucking idea whatsoever what "pluperfect" actually was.
Until, that is, I dug out my dog-eared copy of "501 French Verbs" and turned to page xiii, where they take each French grammer tense and tell you, using the verb "to go" as the example, what that actually MEANS. So, the pluperfect tense? Is nothing more complicated than "I had gone". So simple! Who knew? Do I use that all the time in my writing? Yes, because I am an intuitive writer and I know what works. But did I know the correct "label" for that grammar tense in my own native language? Nope. I don't think anyone ever taught me that. That's a little bit embarrassing to admit, as a writer... but what can I say? I'm the product of a public school education in America: no budget = students learning nothing (Yeah, I'm talking to YOU, NJ Governor Christie).
So, after my meltdown, and determined not to be steamrolled into submission by my new second language (how in the hell do these Europeans end up being fluent in like four or five languages? Seriously? Where do you people find the brain storage space for all of that data?), I sat down and made myself a little chart, using a combination of the 501 Verb book's material, and something I found in my new copy of Bescherelle's La Grammaire (apparently a definitive source in France). Between the two, I think I now have a fairly decent cheat-sheet/quick reference for when I'm trying to translate in one direction or the other, and so I can keep it all straight in my aging brain.
Part of said melt-down, I should mention, is that I am the oldest (and I mean, oldest by a LOT, like maybe as much as 20 years) student in my class. While our group is very nicely diverse, culturally, I don't think there is another student in that room who is over 30. The youngest is just 18. They're all BABIES. Thankfully the teacher looks to be about my age, give or take maybe 5 years, or I'd really feel at a disadvantage. Anyway, lately, for a lot of reasons, I have started to feel my age, and I've noticed I'm even beginning to LOOK my age (after looking at least 8 years younger for a very long time... or so many people have been telling me). So to be suddenly in a situation where not only do I feel older and look older, but I am in one of those situations where maybe, just maybe, I will discover that my brain is not be up to the task of learning as quickly or easily as it would have done even 10 years ago? It is just too much.
Consequently, there were tears of frustration when I left school that day. And later that night. I just felt like crap, no matter how much reassurance I was getting from those who care about me. I don't think I counted on this course being such a blow to my self-confidence. But I was determined to stick it out; I won't quit, and down-leveling isn't an option as far as I'm concerned.
Day 3: Being a glutton for punishment, and stubborn as any Taurean can be (and also having taking an anti-anxiety pill I had left over from my post-gallbladder surgery), I went to take my phonetics placement test (no problems there, it was just talking to an evaluator for 10 minutes and trying to get into a session that works with my schedule), before hot-footing it over to the other building to arrive late AGAIN at my class. However, the teacher was aware some of us had been scheduled for the phonetics test that morning, so it was OK and I didn't feel stressed about being late, other than wondering what I might have missed. I don't feel like I can afford to miss ANYTHING.
We launched into the poetry we'd been assigned to read the day before. I'd done my homework last night, making a list of the unfamiliar vocab so I'd be prepared. And so that was OK. I even asked a question or two, and answered a question or two, during that part of the class. Then, the prof said that next week, he wanted two students to do their "exposé", which I take it is sort of an oral presentation, something all of us will have to do once during the semester. He'd mentioned it briefly on the first day but hadn't given much detail, and today all he said was that we could speak on any subject relative to French life and culture. (At least, I THINK that is what he said. Or he could have been saying something entirely different, for all I know. See what I mean? I am NEVER sure I'm "getting it" in this country.) We could even talk about a movie we'd seen over the weekend as long as it was a French movie. But otherwise, no details as to how long we were expected to speak or any other guidelines. He asked for two volunteers. After a short pause during which no hands were raised, I heard one of the male students in the back of the room volunteer. He got a big smile from the prof, who remarked that he would probably give a higher "note" (grade) to that kid, just for being the first one to be brave enough.
Flashback to me, circa 1973. I am in Junior High, my first English Comp class, with the afore-mentioned super-jock teacher Mr. Stahlnecker and his big cheesy moustache. He assigns us our first-ever oral reports. And through the luck of the draw, I had to go first when the day came to start the presentations. I got up, did my report, knees rattling and voice shaking the entire time; I was visibly petrified. But I did it. And for my efforts and being the first one, the one who had no other students to model, Mr. Stahlnecker gave me... a "C". A fucking "C"! And, as it turned out, it was the ONLY "C" given to any student; all the others got at least a "B", even a friend of mine who was so terrified she didn't even finish her report, and he let her sit down but still gave her a "B". Totally unfair! That traumatized me from public speaking for more than 15 years.
I mention this because I want you to be impressed when I tell you that, while Monsieur Laurent was fishing about for a second victim to do next week's first round of exposés, I took a deep breath... and volunteered. I know I must be fucking insane to put that extra stress on myself when I am already on the fence about whether or not I can hack it in this course. But on the other hand I figured, why not go ahead and freaking get it over with already? Even at the risk of screwing it up because I won't have the benefit of learning from the other student's mistakes. And maybe he will cut me a little slack because I volunteered instead of being drafted. Teachers always like students who readily participate without trying to be the center of attention, and that's my favorite M.O. in a classroom situation. I won't brown-nose a teacher, but I'm there to learn so why not participate and get the most out of it, right?
So... that's how my first week of school went. I am thoroughly exhausted. I am wondering if I am going to have the time to do much of anything other than French homework for the next four months. I am wondering if I am crazy for doing this, or if I will BECOME crazy as a result of doing this. And can Georges put up with what I'm sure will be occasional meltdowns on my part, even while he is trying to help me with my homework when I get stuck. The only perk right now is that my classes are near where Georges works, so I can meet him for lunch on the weeks when I don't have the phonetics lab (which will be 12:30-1:30 in another quartier).
If I am successful, and not only survive this course but pass the final exam (both oral and written), my reward will be: an actual DIPLOMA from the Sorbonne (at the avancé and supérieur levels, you get a diploma rather than just a certificate of completion, which is kind of cool) and... there is an actual graduation ceremony, with cap and gown and everything. I never bothered to go to my own college graduation; it was a 2-year school I attended at night while working full-time, and I just never felt emotionally attached to the whole "college experience" as I might have been, had I gone away to school full-time and lived on campus. So this time? I may just go.
Georges is already insisting on it.
The long and short of it is, I am in for one hell of an experience for the next four months. Whether it proves to be a good one or a bad one remains to be seen. But with any luck, I WILL pick up some better French along the way.
And finally learn to say "grenouille" without my family laughing at me.
