How to Learn French - all at C no longer

It is often said that learning a second language improves your mastery over your mother tongue. A few years ago, and very late in my French-learning, I learned a French pronunciation rule that helped me understand why I pronounced certain English words in the way I did. Ça a fait tilt*, I can tell you!

So here it is. In French, when the letter C is followed by the vowels A, O or U, a hard sound is produced. For example:

café
collège
cumin

However, when a C is followed by the vowels E, I (or Y for that matter), a soft sound results. Like this:

cent
merci
cymbales

The bit that blew me away? It’s exactly the same in English. Think about it:

cat
cotton
cut

but

century
city
mercy

Tell me I’m not the only person who didn’t know this! I suspect I’m not alone.

This also made the function of the c cédille (or c cedilla in English) so much clearer. That is, when the French have a word that has a soft C sound where the C is followed a vowel that usually produces a hard C, they add a ç to soften it. For example:

ça va
garçon
reçu

Ça a du sens*? I hope so.

I think that even if it’s not crystal clear right away, it will become so as you start to notice more and more examples in your workbooks. I hope, too, that as this idea firms up in your head, it will help you to feel more confident in pronouncing French words you’ve not previously seen.

Believe it or not, the rules of French pronunciation are rarely broken (I promise!) so go ahead safe in the knowledge that if you apply the rules above, you’ll almost always be right.

*It clicked | *Does that make sense?

How to Learn French - Tchao for now!

Bonjour* !

In the last How to Learn French post we looked at the sonorous French sound, ‘ch’. A joy to pronounce, we’re lucky that it’s a common sound so you’ll have plenty of practice in perfecting it.

A less common sound in French, though, is a hard ‘ch’ as in the English word ‘cheese’. So rare, in fact, that it doesn’t really exist. It wasn’t until the French started borrwing words from other languages that they even saw the need for such a sound. Since it didn’t exist, they set about inventing it, by popping a ‘t’ in front of the ‘ch’ to mimic the pronunciation of those foreign words.

Though it can look a little strange, don’t be afraid of it. Just ignore the ‘t’ and proceed with a ‘cheese’ sound and you’ll be on your way!

The following words have all been borrowed from other languages. See if you can work out which ones.

tchao
tchèque
tchécoslovaque
tchador
tchadien(ne)
tchat

*Hello

How to Learn French - Champagne?

Bonjour* !

Il y a longtemps*, here at Lingua Franca, we ran a workshop which examined the most beautiful words in French. The research we did for that was an unmitigated pleasure I’ll never forget.

What we found along the way is that while everyone has their own favourite French words, (papillon* sticks in my mind as a bit of a chart-topper), there are particular sounds that seem to have almost universal appeal.

The soft French sound ‘ch’ was high on the list. Many of you would have learned the French word for ‘cow’ (vache) early on in your learning and are likely confident as to its pronunciation, so take that as your anchor word if it appeals.

Somehow (to my ears at least) it feels superior to the English sound ‘sh’ as in shower. They’re very close as far as sounds go, but I’ve just done a very unscientific test as I’m writing this, and I think the French sound does indeed have a touch more panache*, if you’ll forgive me.

When we pronounce the French sound ‘ch’, our lips are more rounded and the jaw moves forward to fully facilitate the sound. Exaggerate your pronunciation of, say, chambre* or mouche* and you’ll see what I mean. Now just rein it in a little, but retain a slight pout, and you’ll be on your way.

The following mots* are an absolute pleasure to pronounce, so enjoy!

Next time, we’ll be focusing on the altogether more Germanic-, English- or even Persian-sounding (as it turns out) sound of tch. Tchao* !

Some of the most beautiful words in French contain the ‘ch’ sound. I’m sure you have your own.

champagne
échantillon
Chantilly
Chouchou
choufleur
chéri(e)
chaleureux
charme

The list goes on. And on…

*Hello | *A long time ago | *butterfly | *flair | *bedroom | *fly | *word | *Bye

How to Learn French - Lamb to the slaughter

Bonjour*!

One of our long-term Chouchous*, Deb, told me of a pronunciation adventure she had while travelling and it has never left me. Granted, she was in Italy at the time, but the lesson she learned that day holds true for le français* as well.

Deb was at a butcher’s and decided she like the look of a cut of lamb. Though her Italian was limited, she did know the word for lamb (agnello) and so, in a communication style known to many of you called the “point-and-utter-the-one-word-you-know” trick, she indicated toward the lamb and said “agnello”. The butcher’s was blindée* with locals jostling to place their orders. The woman behind the counter seemed to not understand Deb’s request, so determinedly, she repeated the word ‘agnello’ pronouncing the word as she’d seen it spelled, with a hard ‘g’ as in ‘golf’.

Still, the butcher wasn’t getting it, so Deb had another go. No luck. Again she tried, this time softer as she was becoming increasingly embarrassed at holding everyone up. Finally, it twigged, and the butcher, loudly and in front of everyone, said “Ah ! Sí ! Agnello ! ” pronouncing the ‘g’ softly, as in the start of the English word ‘nuisance’. Possibly a poor choice of example (sorry, Deb!), but I use it to illustrate that the ‘gn’ sound in Italian, as in French, is pronounced like ‘nye’. Think of how the word champagne is pronounced in French and you’ve got the idea.

Though the butcher could now go about completing the commercial transaction, she wasn’t finished with her linguistic one. “Agnello ! ”, she repeated to Deb, emphasising the soft ‘g’ sound. Deb nodded and smiled, but the Italian woman repeated it again and again, in front of the whole shop, before it dawned on Deb that she wasn’t going to stop until Deb gave it a go herself, which she dutifully did.

The butcher’s face lit up at her refined pronunciation and, as if Deb’s reward was for her to trot out her own broken English, said “Yes! Lamb!”, heartily pronouncing the ‘b’.

Some very useful words contain the ‘gn’ sound. Here is a selection to get you started.

agneau
champagne
champignon
gagner
mignon
Avignon
campagne

So, let’s add our new sound to the table pour voir ce que ça donne*.

Line by line, your French pronunciation is improving. Bravo!

*Hello | *Teacher’s pet | *French | *packed | *Well done

How to Learn French - mind your p's and q's.

Bonjour!

I thought I’d include the sound ‘qu’ in this very short post, as it’s a sound that can be overlooked at times, so bears clarifying.

Where in English we tend to make a ‘kw’ sound for this two letter combination (think ‘quiet’ and ‘equine’), for the French it is a very straightforward ‘k’ sound. Sometimes we hear beginners saying quand as though it’s spelled ‘kwand’, but this is an error that is usually rectified fairly quickly. What you might like to know, though, is that ‘qu’ as a ‘k’ sound in French is one you can count on.

Now for some examples. Remember, be confident in just making a ‘k’ sound. You won’t go wrong, except if you run across an English word the French have borrowed (eg le quiz where they tend to stick to the original pronunciation).

époque
que
inquiet
quartier
qu’est-ce que

What about quoi and pourquoi I am sure I can hear you exclaiming? Although these words make us feel as though we’re using an English ‘kw’ pronunciation, it’s actually the oi that is making a ‘wa’ sound. Tricky, non*?

*Hello | *era | *that | *worried | *suburb | *what | *no

English Enjoyed

If you need some light relief as you wrangle a second language, this Instagram account will help you get a firmer grip on your first. English Enjoyed is an utter delight, best savoured over tea and scones.

Learn French with Macron

When learning a language, sometimes you just have to laugh. And it seems the French president himself has *un sens de l'humour about some of the absurdities of his own.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by AT Frenchies (@atfrenchies)

*a sense of humour

Pourquoi le ‘pas’?

If you’re as nerdy about the evolution of language as we are (and we know many chouchous are), this fascinating video about French negation is the perfect little treat. *Profitez-en!

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A post shared by Oliver Oxford (@oliversoxford)

*Enjoy!

How to Learn French - what the 'ell?

Bonjour!

We’re only going to add one tiny square in this instalment, but once again, it’s an important one.

The pronunciation of words like fille* and famille* is confusing to many, myself included in the earlier years. I remember never being 100% confident even though they’re relatively basic words, and ones that come up a lot.

I can now see why I was so confused. At around the same time, I was learning some other very useful words, such as ville*, mille* and tranquille*, which, as you may know, are not pronounced in the same way as those to which I’ve referred above.

Mais pourquoi pas*? It may surprise you to know that there is a method in this apparent madness. That is, the pronunciation of each of these words can be predicted to a large degree, so it’s best to learn the rule rather than faire à l’arrache*.

This is the default rule for the pronunciation of words containing I-L-L-E. If you’re ever not sure, go with the pronunciation below. I can’t promise you you’ll be right, but you’ll at least have backed the horse with the shortest odds:

the combination of the letters I-L-L-E produces a sound I don’t believe we have in English, but which is a combination of the English letters ‘e’ and ‘y’.

To really nail the sound in French, you’ll need to go back to your anchor word for the letter i, whether that be lit*, ici*, voici* or even something else - maybe merci*?). The tricky bit is that the L-L-E letters that follow it together make a sound akin to an English ‘y’, such as the ‘y’ sound in the word ‘yellow’. So now we have a French i combined with an English ‘y’ sound. If you’re finding that hard to imagine, trying pronouncing the English word ‘key’ and emphasising the ‘y’ sound a little bit. This will get you quite close to the sound we’re after. Imagine then, that instead of saying the word ‘key’, you’re now saying the word ‘fee’ in English. Now pretend there’s a ‘y’ on the end of it. Bravo*! You’ve just made a very good pass at pronouncing the French word for girl, fille.

Now for des précisions*. Be sure to make the i sound of fille very short and tight. Remember, it should rhyme with lit, ici or voici, not the more elongated double ‘e’s of the English words ‘keep’, ‘sleep’ and ‘tree’.

famille
cheville*
Bastille

(*ankle)

Alors voilà*! This is the rule for how the I-L-L-E sound is pronounced. Facile, non*?

Now I know you’d be disappointed if there were no exceptions to this rule, so allow me not to briser ton cœur*. There are. There doesn’t seem to be any rime ou raison*, though, so here are the most common rule-breakers. With these petits rebelles*, remember to sound the ‘l’s (so ville will rhyme with the English word ‘fill’) and you’ll be sur la bonne piste*. 

ville
mille
tranquille
Lille

The rest are better to learn as you go, I think. They’re fairly obscure words and even if someone does correct you, you’ll likely forget by the time you go to use them again, if you ever do (I’m still waiting for my second chance to use bacille*, for example).

By the way, if ever you have any questions about these articles, please feel free to leave a comment below and I’ll do my very best to help you.

*daughter | *family | *city | *thousand | *calm | *But why not | *take a helter-skelter approach | *bed | *here | *here is | *thank you | *Well done | * some details | *So there you go | *Easy, isn't it? | *break your heart | *rhyme or reason | *little rebels | *on the right track | *bacillus

French Girl Reacts to Celebs Speaking French

If you’re as obsessed as we are with celebs speaking French, this video is for you. From Taylor to Timothée, Bradley Cooper to Jodie Foster, watch the stars sink or swim *en français, with their language skills scored on a scale of 1 to 10. *C’est chouette!

* in French | *It’s great!

How to Learn French - Rule of thumb

Bref et concis* but a really good précision* for many, today we’re talking about one of the most mispronounced words in French: the word for woman (or wife), femme.

Most often, we hear this mispronounced as rhyming with the English word ‘gem’, rather than the word ‘thumb’, which the sound resembles most closely.

I remember being so surprised when I learned that the e in words containing the combination emm in French was pronounced as though it was a French a sound. If you’ve been following these posts, you’ll know that the anchor word I use for a in French is ça va. And if you’ve done your devoirs*, you’ll also know that sound is very close to the u sound in the English word ‘cup’. Read on for some more illuminations* (hopefully)…

By the way, it’s not just femme that has this English u sound. Here are a few others to ponder.

femme
évidemment
fréquemment
différemment
patiemment

If you’ve been trying out your French on native-speakers for a decent period of time, I am confident you would’ve already been (kindly) corrected on your pronunciation of the word évidemment. I certainly was (more than once, until it clicked), but I thought it must have been an exception. In fact, it’s not, it’s just that the combination of emm in the middle of a word makes that ‘u’ sound we’ve been talking about.

Alors, voilà!* Only one square added this time, but an important one, nonetheless.

*Short and sweet | *clarification | *homework | *lightbulb moments | *So there you go

How to Learn French - same but different

Hopefully since the last post you’ve reflected on the sentence below, which contains all four nasal vowels. A nasal vowel is a vowel followed by an ‘n’ or an ‘m’, as you may remember.

This post is devoted to those nasal vowels followed by ‘m’s, as well as some variations in spelling, for nasal vowels containing both ‘n’s and ‘m’s.

The good news is, there’s really nothing new to learn here, as these nasal sounds are pronounced exactly as those above. You will, see, however, that our grid has a bit more girth these days, which I hope you’ll perceive as a broadening of your pronunciation skills.

The aim today, therefore, is simply to notice this fact, and of course, have fun choosing your anchor words. Allez-y*!

There are very few words containing this sound, but here’s one you likely know.

humble

For those of you with eagle eyes, you’ll have now realised that the following two words are pronounced exactly the same:

non
nom

I hope this is reassuring to you, reducing, as it does, the options for pronunciation.

Here are some other words containing om that you may know:

comptable
ombre
comptoir
plombier

This sound certainly spreads itself around and is found in the following spellings. Remember, all of these sounds are pronounced exactly the same as the in in vin, despite the various ways they appear on the page.

pain
faim
plein
Reims*
syndicat
sympa

Okay, okay, this most particular of place names does break the rules of pronunciation, I admit, but probably not where you think it does. It is just the pronouncing of the final ‘s’ that is unusual. The rest of the word conforms to the rules and is therefore pronounced similarly to the word ‘dance’ in Australian English (that is, if you don’t pronounce it ‘dahnce’. Tu vois*? English is aberrant, aussi*!)

Remember, these nasal vowels rhyme with those found in enfant, which, helpfully, rhyme with one another.

jambon
framboise
champignon
ambulance

exemple
embouteillage
embrasser
température


Et voilà*! I hope you can see the strides you’re making now that we’ve laid the foundations of French pronunciation. See you next month for more!

*Let’s go! | *You see | *as well | *And there you go

How to Learn French - follow your nose

If you’ve become a regular reader of these posts, you may remember we started our pronunciation adventure all the way back with the vowels a, e, i (y), o and u. I hope by now you feel confident pronouncing them and that you know your anchor words off by heart.

If you’re new to the blog, the use of anchor words is a fairly common practice for those learning to pronounce a second language. These are words that you absolutely know how to pronounce and by extension allow you to pronounce a whole host of other words that contain the same sounds. Apart from the exceptions, (bien sûr*). 

I can almost hear you howling from here about French and its plentiful exceptions, but I promise you that on the pronunciation side of things, at least, there are very few exceptions to the rule. Don’t believe me? Follow this blog to the bitter end and you’ll see that the pronunciation table we’re building has a form to it that will satisfy even the most méticuleux* of reader.

Today we’re going to look at nasal vowels, which for me are what makes French sound so…well, French. If you think of a caricature of a French person (say Pepé Le Pew or Steve Martin as Inspector Clouseau) their overblown accents are often due to an exaggeration of the four nasals vowels. Read on to find out un peu plus*.

By the way, here are my personal anchor words for the French vowels. Please do not feel hidebound by mine. While you’re welcome to use them, it is a really great exercise for you to find your own.

LES VOYELLES FRANÇAISES - KATRINA’S ANCHOR WORDS

A - ça va
E - je
I/Y - ici
O - tomate
U - tu

Okay, so now let’s take a look at these very special-sounding vowels - les voyelles nasales*.

Step 1…

This (admittedly) very memorable French phrase encapsulates the nasal vowels in one easy-to-understand sentence: a good white wine.

There are officially four different nasal vowels in French, though many French people will say the sounds un and in sounds are exactly the same. While it’s true the difference is très nuancée*, each have separate phonetic symbols so for now at least, we have quatre* to learn. Don’t worry, though, if you can’t hear the difference between the two. In a hundred years or so, there will likely only be three of them and you’ll have been proven right.

Choose your favourite word below to become your anchor word. There are actually very few words that contain un in French. Next post you’ll see that the sound um is exactly the same (see, I told you it’d get easier!) so there’ll be a few more of them to choose from.

un
lundi
quelqu’un
aucun
chacun


MAKE THE SOUND: Try saying ‘un’ as in ‘unhappy’. Now say it again, but don’t say the ‘n’. This sound approximates the sound you want. 

bon
mon
tonton
chanson
oncle

MAKE THE SOUND: Try saying the English word ‘on’. Now say it again but do not pronounce the ‘n’. Your mouth should finish open, not with your tongue on the roof of your mouth. 

cousin
intelligent
fin
lapin
prince

MAKE THE SOUND: Try saying the English word ‘an’ as in ‘an apple’ without finishing the ‘n’ sound. This is quite close to the sound you’re after. 

enfant
enfin
dans
antique
dent

MAKE THE SOUND: The two sounds are identical. Think of the word enchanté, in which it appears twice. 

So, let’s take a look at our pronunciation table after the addition of the nasal vowels. You’ll see we’ve added four extra rows, as the sounds are completely different to all those that have preceded them.

Ne vous inquiétez pas*, though, next post we’ll fill out those new rows in a really satisfying (and hopefully helpful) way.

*of course | *meticulous | *a bit more | *the nasal vowels | *very nuanced | *four | *Don’t worry

How to Learn French - Plus ça change...

Today we’re going to inch across a few columns, filling out variations on some sounds you already know well. It is my hope that with each horizontal move, you’ll be reassured that you’re more unconsciously competent at French pronunciation than you may think.

Soyez tranquille*, we’ll be making some more vertical moves in future posts, adding brand new sounds, but for now, let’s just consolidate some of the vowel sounds you already know.

You’ll notice that the additions we make today involve accents, which is to say that in many instances, they make no difference to the pronunciation of vowels at all.

On y va* !

Remember, the aim of the game is to have an anchor word for each principal sound (those in the far left-hand column below). Once you’re confident that you know how to pronounce that sound, you can start to add other sounds, which, though spelled slightly differently, have the same pronunciation.

voilà
là
à la carte
château
gâteau
pâtes

SOUNDS LIKE: A

Lyon
pays
Yves
gîte
île
dîner
maïs
naïve
aïoli

SOUNDS LIKE: I

tôt
hôpital
hôtel

SOUNDS LIKE: O

dû
brûlé(e)
flûte

SOUNDS LIKE: U

So, where does that land us? You’ll see we’ve filled in the vowel sounds quite a lot horizontally. You’re really starting to build up a very good pronunciation cheat sheet, except it’s not cheating at all, since you’re (hopefully) confident with your anchor words, and, by extension, those that follow.

Félicitations* ! You’ve just made further headway in mastering French pronunciation.

*Rest assured | *Let’s go | *Congratulations

How to Learn French - Getting square

I think one of the biggest breakthroughs I had with my French pronunciation was when I realised how many different spellings there were for the same sound.

This realisation helped me to start to synthesise all the different information I had swirling around my head from things I’d heard, been told and read.

As much as I I like to think of myself as a creative soul, I do love a good spreadsheet, so being able to give order to the sounds I was trying to pronounce was a great help.

In the last two posts of How To Learn French, I’ve effectively been opening a new file and working out how many columns and rows I’ll need. In this post, we’re going to take our first look at that grid, so hopefully for the more visual among you it will be very helpful.

Here’s where we were after the first post.

After the second, you could see we were starting to fill in a couple of the rows, demonstrating that there is some order, in fact, to French pronunciation.

Today we’re going to add another couple of very important rows and fill out a column or two, so let’s get to it. On y va* !

Remember, our aim is to set you up with an anchor word that you are confident about pronouncing. This accent produces a sound doesn’t really have an exact equivalent in English. It’s sort of a mix between ay as in hay, and e as in bed. Here are some other options.

étudiant
risqué
étage
préférer
école

This sound is similar to the e sound in egg, or bed. As an anchor word, you may prefer one of the below, or may already have a favourite.

père
après
frère
grève
très

So now, we can fill out our table a little more and hopefully it’s becoming clearer to you just how much crossover there is in the French spelling of sounds (and there’s even more to come).

Have fun playing around with these sounds. I remember it took me ages to get my head around this. Even now, someone will correct my pronunciation or I’ll come across a new word and I really enjoy seeing if I can find a place for it in the grid. I hope you’re finding this helpful.

Bon courage* !

*Let’s go | *Good luck

Don't do it if you don't love it

Welcome to another article in our new series: How to Learn French. Not just les rouages*, but tips on the attitudes and practices you can adopt to ensure your success.

This article has been swimming around my head for quite a few weeks now, and in preparation, I  made a few notes.

Along with the words ‘passion’ (more on that later) and ‘teacup’ (that, too) was a very strange scratching in my handwriting : go with the hair of the arm. I knew exactly what I meant when I wrote it and was confident it would provide the backbone of this article, as well as add some imagery to this conseil*.

The reasons for the awkwardness of my note was two-fold. Firstly, I’d translated it from a French phrase I’d stumbled across a few years ago. Secondly, I’d never been able to remember the exact saying in French but I was sure it had something to do with flattening down the hair on your arm in the direction it grows, and was used to describe how we should pursue those things in life that come most easily to us. That is, going with the grain rather than against it. 

It turns out I shouldn’t have been so sure. When I finally tracked down the saying, I found it had a meaning quite different to the one I’d ascribed to it.

Flatter une personne dans le but d’obtenir sa confiance.

To flatter someone with the objective of winning their confidence.

So, quite off the mark. Or was I?

A further exploration of the definition brought about this explanation:

Par définition, les animaux aiment être caressés, ils se sentent ainsi flattés et dignes d'intérêt.

By definition, animals like to be patted, they feel both flattered and worthy of interest.

The last part of this definition really resonated with this particular animal (moi*).

From the very beginning, aged ten, when I had my very first lesson, learning French made me feel good. There was something about it that I found so intriguing, as though learning these strange-sounding words would unlock a parallel world previously unaccessible to me. This feeling has never gone away. In fact, it has intensified. I’m sure many of you feel the same way.

It’s not so much that I’m flattered by French (of course not), or that it makes me feel worthy of interest, but there is something to be said about spending your time doing something you love. Simply put, it feels right. It indeed feels like patting a dog the length of its coat in the direction of the growth of the hair (the French phrase is so much more elegant, non*?). There’s a therapeutic benefit to repeatedly caressing your favourite pet and I believe the same is true for regularly practising a skill you enjoy. It’s satisfying, calming and fun. And if you truly love it, it becomes so much more than that. It can inform your whole life, as it almost has done mine. 

Our Chouchous* come to Lingua Franca for all sorts of reasons. The predominant one, of course, is the desire to learn French. Many assume the main reason anyone would sign up to French lessons is because they have a trip to France planned in the near future, but in fact, that is a relatively rare occurence for us. As I mentioned in a previous post, most people come to us because they did a little bit of French at school and loved it, and then their lives took a different direction and French just didn’t fit in. Years or decades later, they come to us, wanting to pick it up again.

We also have people who have never studied French before but have long dreamed of doing so. We have partners of French people who come to us to be able to communicate better with their loved one and their loved one’s family. We have people whose children have partnered with a native French speaker, and they want to learn French so they can communicate with their grand-children. Some people work for French companies where having a knowledge of French is of huge benefit not only to their careers, but invaluable in forging relationships with their workmates.

Then we have all the reasons that go beyond the acquisition of language. Keeping your brain healthy, doing something (anything!) that’s not work, taking time for yourself, challenging yourself to learn something beyond the scope of your current expertise. For company. For stimulation. For the laughs. For connection.

We’re often told by students that coming to French is the high point of their week. I totally understand that. As a person who has taken my love of French to the extreme, I live and breathe it. When you’re truly passionate about something, it’s hard to separate your work and personal life, and in fact, I don’t really see the point. Arbitrarily drawing a line down the centre of my life for the sake of ‘balance’ when my passion for language, culture and travel permeates everything seems pointless, even cruel.

That said, though, the true highlight of my week is my Saturday morning Philosophy lesson. I absolutely love it. I get to ponder life’s big questions in a slow and almost meditative way with a group of people who have absolutely nothing to do with my ‘real’ life. It’s so liberating. It’s like washing my brain every week. I walk out of there as light as a feather, and the bonnes ondes* last well into the evening and sometimes, if I’m lucky, roll into Sunday morning and beyond. 

I’m not passionate about Philosophy, though. I just really, really like it. Unlike French, I very rarely race to a text to find out exactly what the Stoics were on about, or memorise a Marcus Aurelius quote. I just enjoy having the knowledge wash over me for the time I’m at my lesson. Occasionally I’ll give it some thought during the week, but sometimes not, and that is fine by me (and my tutor, thankfully). I’m not there to become an expert on Philosophy. I’m there to do something different and be exposed to some of the oldest ideas in history, which are almost all new to me.

Many of our students consider their French lessons the same way. It’s something very enjoyable they choose to do once or twice a week and adds an extra element to the life they’ve created for themselves. They may do French for a year or two, perhaps longer, and will happily let it go when it no longer serves them or they find something else that piques their interest.

Other students have a true passion for French. They’re easy to spot when you’re teaching them. They sit forward, eager for more and more knowledge. They ask questions. At times, they almost quiver with excitement. Their eyes are wide and bright and it’s wonderful to witness. These people never let it go, though the amount of time they devote to it may wax and wane over the years. It becomes part of their identity, and therefore is always there, patiently waiting in the background.

If you’ve ever been on Instagram, you’ve almost certainly seen an inspirational quote (or a thousand) about ‘filling up your teacup’. It’s the idea that we all have a limited amount of energy (our teacup) and that our teacup must be full before we are able to devote our time and energy to others. While a lovely idea in practice, I think many of us operate with sub-optimal liquid levels at times. It’s just part of living a modern life. I believe pursuing a hobby should feel like you’re replenishing your teacup, or at least maintaining the level. Which leads us in to the third group…

Luckily, this group is not a big one. It’s made up of people who have been dragged (or pushed) into French and found it’s just not for them. I feel sorry for them. You can tell they’re trying to put a brave face on it, but that there are about a hundred places they’d rather be at 6:15pm on a Wednesday night than at a French lesson. Others are people who thought speaking French would be like learning to ride a bike. A bit disorienting at first, a wobble or two and then there’s no looking back! Et en plus*, you never forget! Those of you who have studied French know it’s not like this at all. Learning a language is more like learning to play an instrument, with verb tables substituted for scales. And, as boring as it may sound, practice, practice and more practice is the key.

It is to this third group of people that this advice is directed. It’s frank but, for me at least, worth thinking about: if you don’t love it, don’t do it. If the idea of your upcoming French lesson hangs over your head all week and doesn’t get any better when you’re actually there, please let it go. Unless there is a valid reason why you must continue (and sometimes there is), go and do something that makes you feel good. 

This advice is not a rejection. Hopefully if you’re doing French because you feel you should, it’ll feel more like a liberation. Life truly is short, and the bank of happiness to be mined so rich when pursuing something you love that if you don’t love French (or any other leisure activity for that matter), don’t do it. Your time is precious. Fill it with things that make you feel engaged, confident and as though you’re stroking your favourite pet dans le sens du poil*. Not against the grain, pricking your hand, stirring up dust, making you sneeze and generally leaving you feeling bad.

Next month: a few ideas on how to work out what you truly do love, if you don’t already know.

*piece of advice | *me | *don’t you think? | *Teacher’s Pets | *good feeling | *plus | *in the direction of the hair

Stop trying so hard

Last month, I advised a ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ approach to speaking French.

If you know anything about French, you know there’s always an exception, so here it comes:

The first time this advice was offered to me, I can’t say I took it graciously. My reaction may have involved me throwing down my table tennis bat, flouncing off en faisant la tronche* and slamming my bedroom door. In my defence, I was only 16, mais quand même*.

The year before, I’d been lucky enough to take part in an exchange to Réunion Island, a little slice of French paradis* located in the Indian Ocean between Mauritius and Madagascar. I’d been learning French since upper primary school and was in Year 11 when a group of about 40 of us left Perth for Singapore. After an overnight stay in a Mauritius hotel where we learned the word for cafards*, our very excited group landed at Roland Garros Airport in the capital of St Denis.

We were billeted out to families across the island and I absolutely fell in love with my host mère, père, deux sœurs et petit frère*.

In the car on the way from the airport to my nouvelle maison, my host sister Cécile said: “Je suis allée en Australie l’année dernière.” Though I’d studied the passé composé* at school and thought I had a handle on it, I managed to translate her statement to mean that she was going to come to Australia the next year. Proof that there’s knowing something academically and there’s really knowing it.

”Fantastique!*’ I exclaimed. “Tu vas rester avec moi*?”

Cécile looked confused, I was embarrassed and that pretty much set the tone for the next four weeks of my life as I struggled to communicate with real French people in real-life situations with my suddenly sub-par French. Néamoins*, I had a wonderful experience, my French did improve (even though I couldn’t tell at the time) and the next thing I knew, we were back at the airport, me in floods of tears promising to return the very next year. It’s been trente-quatre ans* and counting, but croyez-moi*, it’s going to happen.

Since Cécile had already been to Australia, we were to host someone brand new in return. Though I was disappointed to be denied the chance to resume my close friendship with her, I was secretly excited we’d be hosting un garçon* called Michel. Naturellement*, I thought we’d fall in love and live happily ever after and I could already see my future playing out as one half of a très chic* bi-cultural couple flitting between Réunion, Australia and France.

So when Michel and I took an almost instant dislike to one another it was a disappointment to say the least. I found him arrogant, he found me arrogante*. If he was têtu*, I was even more têtue. Let’s just say on n’était pas faits l’un pour l’autre*.

Our discord came to a head over la table de ping pong* and it’s a moment I’ll never forget. It’s also one for which I am forever grateful, as humiliating as it was at the time.

Part of my arrogance came in the form of the pride I took in my French. I absolutely loved it from the minute we started learning it in primary school. I’d worked really hard on it and was therefore very attached to it. Un poil* too attached, as it turned out.

Michel and I had not been getting on since his arrival. He annoyed me like a petit frère*, and I already had one of those. I’d whinged to Mum but she wasn’t having it, telling me it was my duty to be nice to him since he was a guest in our home (fair enough). She suggested I invite some of my friends around with their own exchange students to dilute the intensity a bit, which I promptly did.

We all decided to play table tennis and though this should have been a safe choice of activity, unfortunately both Michel and I were blessed with l’esprit de compétition* and our bickering soon reached a climax.

I can’t remember if this played out in French or in English but I clearly remember Michel and I were on opposing sides of the net when he let out a stream of insults ending with words to the effect of “You think you’re so good at French but you try too hard and it sounds stupid!”. I was absolutely humiliated, my face rouge comme une tomate, my friends standing off to the side, mouths open, and the Réunionnais exchange students shifting awkwardly in their baskets*. Cue the bat slamming, flouncing and sulking for the rest of the afternoon. Oh adolescence, how I miss you!

I hate to admit it, but he was right.

We all know how hard it is to get our mouths around French pronunciation at first, and it can continue to be difficult for quite a long time. There are sounds in French that just do not exist in English, such as the infamous ‘r’ as well as the nasal vowels. Then of course they have words like écureuil*, which seem designed to destroy us.

Additionally, our French teacher in high school had told us to really exaggerate the ‘r’ at first, which is advice I still give to our students when they’re first introduced to it (merci, Mlle MacPherson*!). I’d just forgotten the second part of her advice which was to back off a touch once we’d mastered producing the sound.

So the advice to ‘stop trying so hard’ is valid, but may not apply to you if you’re still relatively new and trying to get your mouth (and head) around French pronunciation. However, if you’ve been at it a while, and it still feels like you’re making an enormous every time you open your mouth to speak French, see if taking it down a notch yields better results.

I know I used to think I had to try really hard to produce a French accent and try I did. Too much, as it turned out. It was only in making a concerted effort learn the rules of French pronunciation (and there are plenty of resources to help with that) that I had the confidence to back off a little.

If you think about it, we don’t have to make an effort when we speak English because we’re really comfortable with the sounds we need to make. In fact we don’t even think about it. The same is true for French people. They’re never trying to sound French, they just do. And that’s because they’ve mastered the required sounds.

Turn on French radio or watch the French news and you’ll soon notice that some people sound very obviously French, whereas others appear to have a softer accent. When I realised that, despite their differences, they were all native French speakers, j’ai eu un déclic* which seemed to give me permission to tone it down a bit. Not all French people sound like a Pepe Le Pew, I realised.

If you do the work of learning the pronunciation, you’ll see there are actually fewer variations than you might think. French pronunciation is one of the few areas of the language that is, in fact, not riddled with exceptions. The same sounds come up time and time again, but are just spelled differently (think of the ‘o’ in ‘tomate’, the ‘eau’ in ‘bateau’ and the ‘au’ in ‘jaune’ - they’re all the same sound). Learn to group these sounds together, and the whole exercise will seem more manageable. Those of you who have done our Absolute Beginner series of workbooks will have been shown this, but it never hurts to go back to the basics with fresh eyes and to have a go at mapping it out for yourself.

Next, practise, practise and practise some more (flashcards are great for this) and be gentle on yourself. It will most likely get worse before it gets better. Then, just when you reach the point where you’re about to self-combust with all the effort, give yourself a break.

Try slowing down and softening your delivery a little and you may well be surprised find your pronunciation sounds more fluid and gentle, and somewhat counterintuitively, even more French.

*sulking *but even so *paradise *cockroaches *mother, father, two sisters and little brother *new house *I went to Australia last year *past tense *Fantastic *Are you going to stay with me *Nevertheless *thirty four years *believe me *a boy *Naturally *very chic *arrogant *pig-headed *we weren’t exactly made for one another *the table tennis table *A touch *little brother *the competitive spirit *red as a tomato *squirrel *trainers thank you, Miss MacPherson *I had a Eureka moment

Fake it till you make it.

Many years ago, we produced a little travel phrase book in which we gave our three top tips for speaking French.

Those of us who have been lucky enough to travel to a French-speaking destination are well aware of the disparity between what we know in our heads and what we’re actually able to get out when put on the spot. It can be a deflating experience, but it’s entirely natural. If you think of a young child who is learning to speak, they are able to understand a whole host of words before they are able to get out their premier mot*. It’s the difference between passive and active knowledge and is also the reason we’re usually better at reading than writing. With passive skills, there is a lot of educated guesswork and context clues to help you, whereas when it’s up to you to actually produce language, you really have to know your stuff.

I think where many of our students become frustrated, though, is that they do indeed know their stuff. In fact, sometimes they know it backwards and yet are still unable to get the words out. This is where one of our top tips can really help you.

While we often apply the label of timide* to children, we’re less likely to characterise an adult as such. We’re more likely to call them réservé* or introvertie*. But we can all feel shy when it comes time to speak French in front of others. Avoir le trac* is completely normal.

One way out of this is to take yourself out of the equation. Pretend it’s not you who is about to say the words, but your French alter-ego. Adopting that character may strike you as silly at first, but that’s actually the point. You want to put some distance between yourself (the person who has les papillons au ventre* about speaking French) and your interlocuteur (the person you’re speaking to). Inserting une version française* of yourself into the middle of the conversation can sometimes turn what feels like a stressful situation into a fun one, if not a slightly ridiculous one, and that alone can help.

When we do have a bit of stage fright, it’s likely you’ll deliver your message in a hesitant, quiet voice if you get it out at all. This may prompt the person you’re speaking to to say ‘Pardon?*’ and if you’re like most of us, you’ll immediately assume you’ve made a mistake and probably clam up. However, they literally may not have heard what you said and are simply asking you to repeat it. So, if you’re able to gather un peu de courage* and tap into your inner Hercule Poirot, you may be pleasantly surprised by the sounds that come out of your mouth. Remember, when French people are speaking French, they’re not feeling as if they’re putting anything on or speaking in an exaggerated manner. It’s the same for us when we speak English.

And if this petit article* hasn’t convinced you to fake it till you make it, perhaps knowing the French have exactly the same fears about speaking English will. We’re not so différent*, after all.

*first word *shy *reserved *introverted *Having stage fright *butterflies in your tummy *a French version *Excuse me? *a bit of courage *little article *different

To compare is to despair

A common frustration for our students here at Lingua Franca (and doubtless for language students across the globe), is their tendency to forget what they’ve learned from one week to the next or in some (usually comedic) instances, from one moment to the next.

Before you think we’re being critical of our learners, we, the staff, have experienced the exact same frustrations in the past, and continue to do so. Learning a language is an ongoing challenge, no matter your level, and I’m not sure we get any better at remembering new concepts right off the bat as we progress. Likely, we just get better at recognising the phenomenon as inherent in learning (or improving) a skill and we move on.

Before people get to that acceptance, though, they often lament not learning a second language as a child, when their brains were ‘like little sponges’.

From my experience, this is both true and untrue, and according to the reading I’ve done, the only real conclusion I’ve come to is simply that the debate rages on.

What seems to be accurate is that children are able to learn unconsciously, whereas for adults it takes a bit more effort. However, hour for hour, some say that adults are actually more successful at learning a language (and by that, we’re looking at all four competencies, not just speaking and listening) as they have a whole system of prior knowledge on which to hang the new concepts.

If you’re interested in this subject, I found this article particularly motivating.

However, we’re straying from the point a little, as if you’re still reading and comprehending this article, you most likely don’t need to ask your parents’ permission for a sleepover anymore. That ship has sailed.

What is to be gained from comparing yourself to a child, or anyone else for that matter?

What can be very useful, instead, is to notice those people around you who do something particularly well. For example, do you have someone in your class who has really mastered les numéros*, while you’re still trying to work out what four times twenty plus ten plus seven could possibly mean? If so, ask them how they did it. I’m sure they’ll be flattered and keen to share their knowledge.

Don’t forget, too, that it’s entirely possible someone else in your class is silently admiring your ability to 'just give it a go’, whereas they’re petrified of making a mistake, or the fact that you have a way or rephrasing an idea the teacher has presented in a way that makes it easier for the rest of the class to understand. We all have our skills and they come in myriad forms. This is one of the joys for us as teachers. We’re constantly astounded by the diversity of experience of our students.

When you ask your classmate for their secret, I can almost guarantee they’ll tell you it didn’t ‘just happen’ for them. I know people who have practised their numbers by reading number plates to themselves when stuck in traffic. I know someone else who took out a stack of index cards and cut them in half so they fit in the palm of her hand. She wrote the numeral on one side and the French word for it on the other, popped them in a little Tupperware container and slid that into her handbag. Then, whenever she found herself with five minutes to spare, she’d take out a little handful (pre-shuffled bien sûr*) to test herself. She did this most days for a few months and guess what? She’s still great at numbers many years later. She learned the concept, did a bit of leg work in writing out the cards and then kept the knowledge there by practising a little but often. Job done!

That’s the other advantage we have as adults in learning a language. Most of us (even those who railed against such notions when younger) now know from hard-earned experience that things like practice, dedication and commitment do indeed pay off. You don’t have to be crazy about it. We all seem to lead rather hectic lives and there are limits to how much time we can devote to our pursuits, but being inspired to forge on by those around us is surely a better way to go than wishing to be someone we’re not?

Louis XIV put it well when he said:

”Il est sans comparaison plus facile de faire ce qu'on est, que d'imiter ce qu'on n'est pas*”.

I mean, easy for him to say. His parents took nearly two decades to give birth to a son, so they called him Louis-Dieudonné, meaning "Gift of God" and allegedly he believed it.

We’re not all made to feel quite so special from birth, but still, the message remains. Stop comparing, focus on what you’re good at, and then piquez* ideas from others. So much easier.

*the numbers | *of course | *It is without doubt easier to be who we are, rather than imitate what we’re not | *pinch

It gets easier

I was doing a lesson with one of our very long-term students a few weeks ago, looking at all of the French verb tenses (there are 15 conservatively, more like 19 or 20 when you go deep). 

If you’ve not immediately smashed your computer screen and headed to the nearest corner for a soothing rock, stay with me, because this is a happy news story (je te jure* !).

In looking at all the tenses, we realised that beyond a certain point, they mostly become compounds of the ones you already know (and those that don’t are likely to be literary tenses and very rarely used).

For example, the futur proche* is really just a combination of the present tense plus the infinitive (je vais parler - I am going to speak). For those of you who have dug a little further back into the French grammar armoire*, you’ll know that the plus-que-parfait* is just an amalgam of the imperfect tense and the past participle that you’ve already seen in the passé composé* (j’avais parlé - I had spoken).

It goes on. The futur antérieur* is a combo of the futur simple* and the past participle (j’aurai parlé - I will have spoken) and the past conditional just takes it a step further (j’aurais parlé - I would have spoken).

So, it’s a bit like an apprenticeship, or apprentissage. You have to do the hard yards first in order to develop the skills that will allow you to master your chosen trade in the future.

This may not be sounding like a good news story yet, granted. It might just sound like plain old hard work, which it sometimes is (even though there are many moments of delight along the way).

But the good news starts here. 

Much like my Mum’s very sage advice to me the first time I had my heart broken (“It will never be this hard again, I promise”), your very first course will always be the most testing.

At Lingua Franca we have 16 different levels ranging from Absolute Beginner 1 to Advanced Revision. By far and away the first lesson of Absolute Beginner 1 is the trickiest. In fact, to be more specific, it’s the very first vocabulary list, about some seemingly benign basic greetings, that can cause intellectual panic to set it.

Take a look for yourself:

In that very first 15 minutes of the lesson, we touch on the following:

• silent letters

• strange vowel combinations (oi is pronounced wuh?)

• tu vs vous

• the supremacy of the masculine gender (in grammatical terms)

• standard vs familiar language (bonjour vs salut)

• liaison

• the difference between on and nous

• pronunciation exceptions (monsieur)

• how to pronounce French ‘r’s

• agreement (enchanté vs enchantée)

C’est beaucoup, non*? If you’ve been doing French for a little while, the above list probably doesn’t look that scary at all. You’ve may have even forgotten that these were new concepts to you once upon a time. But imagine how it feels to be back there at Lesson 1, trying to take all of this in. You’d think it was a foreign language.

Spare a thought for our Absolute Beginner 1 students, as it doesn’t let up for the rest of the workbook. Numbers to 100 (“what do you mean 4 x 20 means 80?”), nationalities without capital letters, the joy of their first irregular verb (hello, être*) and the back-to-frontness (for English-speakers) of the noun plus adjective situation. 

We can actually pinpoint the moment the shine will come off for most brand new students. It’s Lesson 4, when they learn to conjugate (huh?) their very first regular verb. The mood almost always goes from engaged and excited to focused and serious as they broach the verb vendre* and when the door opens at the end of the lesson, it’s like a wave of tension follows the students out. 

However, for the courageux* and courageuses* who front up for Lesson 5, it’s all good news. Having had their French hearts broken, it’s only upwards and onwards from that point. Places around town (fun!). A guessing game in French? Count me in!

And so it goes along the winding path of your French learning. Peaks and valleys, climbs, descents and periods of coasting.

Another of our students tells a very reassuring story of learning to be a volunteer guide at an art gallery. The training was extensive and the information new and copious. With so much information swimming around in their heads, the trainees felt as though they’d never be able to remember everything, let alone communicate it in a comprehensible (and engaging) way. 

Just when our student thought she could take no more, the trainer explained to her that it was totally natural at that point to be utterly confused.

The trainer explained to them that this period of confusion often represented the last moments before the information would start to synthesise and arrange itself in their heads. That is, that this was the worst it would get. As it turns out not only was Mum a master consoler, but she had some insight into brain function as well.

It might help to think of your learning as a series of waves of various heights, with blobs of confusion dotted along the way. Comme ça*, the next time you’re faced with a new and challenging concept, you can be secure in the knowledge that understanding and mastery is just over the next rise, and that, de toute façon* you’ve seen much worse before.

*I promise | *close future | *cupboard | *pluperfect | *past perfect tense | *future perfect | *future simple tense | *It’s a lot, isn’t it? | *to be | *to sell | *courageous (male) people | *courageous (female) people | *That way | *In any case