How to Learn French - A five-minute fix

Sometimes when you’re learning a new skill you just need a few quick wins to keep your spirits up and encourage you to tenir le coup*.

There are all sorts of little errors that I hear over and over again when I’m teaching. Little errors that are really very simple to fix.

So common are they that I go through periods where I don’t even hear them anymore. Other times, I do hear one of these petites erreurs* while teaching, but it’s not the right time to correct the student sitting across the table from me and so I let it slide.

So, for the last week, and with this article in mind, I’ve been keeping my oreilles* wide open to see if I could pick up on the worst offenders. Not all students make all of these errors but it is interesting how often they do crop up and it’s across all levels.

Let’s be faithful to the title of the article and launch into our five-minute fix. Your French will be likely be markedly better by the time you get to the bottom of the page.

This crops up time and time again, particularly with students who taught themselves before coming to us. I totally understand why they make the mistake of pronouncing the ’s’: it distinguishes it from the singular form and it’s reassuring to hear the difference in pronunciation. However, it’s always wrong, unless your next word starts with a vowel or an ‘h’ and you’re (rightly) making the liaison, or elision. Remember, in this case, the ’s’ is pronounced more like a ‘z’ sound, likely to differentiate it from ils sont* and elles sont*.

While in English we say ‘a thousand’, in French, we don’t, no matter what follows it. Thus:

1000 : mille
1487: mille-quatre-cent-quatre-vingt-sept

Never: un mille.

I know, I know, it’s so tempting to pronounce this word for ‘woman’ or ‘wife’ as it reads, but please don’t. That is, for pronunciation purposes:

femme does not sound like ‘them’

femme sounds like ‘thumb’

Really!

I’m the first to admit that this word is a capricious little mite, as, depending on its meaning, it may or may not end in an é (acute accent or accent aigu). But, can we make a pact that when we see it does end with this little flourish, that that we make the effort to pronounce it? Merci*.

You’re off the hook here:

côte = coast / shore
côte = hill / slope
côte = rib

But all eyes (ears) are on you here:

côté = side
à côté = next to

If you’re anything like me, you’ve grown up hearing sauvignon blanc pronounced as ‘sovinyon blonk’. Let’s spare our French friends’ ears, shall we? The ‘c’ in blanc is always silent.

Et voilà* ! Just five minutes and you’re on your way to being a much more expert speaker of French. 

*stay the course | *little mistakes | *ears | *they are (masculine or mixed group) | *they are (female only group) | *Thank you | *And there you go

How to Learn French - When will I be fluent?

Our Chouchous* here at Lingua Franca are a fairly diverse  bunch but I’d guarantee almost every single one of them harbours this desire: to be fluent in French one day.

It’s a noble goal, c’est sûr*, and one I still hold myself after all these years, but recently I’ve been thinking about what really means to be fluent and I might be en train de* amending my goal.

Most people would think that I am fluent, and I guess I am in many ways. But if your version of fluent means knowing every single word in French, then I am most decidedly not. I still discover new words in French regularly and it’s this petit plaisir* that got me thinking in the first place.

Until recently, it very much was my goal to one day speak French as easily and as fluently as I speak English, but I’ve realised recently this is simply not possible. I’m 52 and I have lived in Australia for 50 of those years. Even if I were to jump on a plane today and live to the ripe old age of 100 in France, my French would still never catch up to my English. It’d get close, that’s for sure, but all of that imprinting as a very young person in an anglophone environment would not be able to be overridden by mes années glorieuses* in France.

That realisation troubled me at first until a second one hit me: if I was truly fluent in French, I’d have no reason to learn it any more, and what would my life look like in that case?  Much poorer, I have to admit. French has been the passion of my life and I can’t imagine my vie* without it. It brings me so much: challenge, exchange, wonder, frustration, joy, connection. Why would I wish that away?

I’ve spoken before about how I was always in a rush to learn French, to get ‘there’, as I thought of it. Any yes, ‘there’ was fully fluent. I know a lot of students wish for the same thing, and while I want them to achieve their goals, I think it might be helpful if we all reframed our aims a bit.

How about we think about achieving proficiency instead of fluency? Linguistically, the difference between these two is actually a bit of a minefield, but on a less academic level, proficiency means being able to get things done, and that sounds appealing to me.

There are different levels of proficiency (and fluency, too, by the way) but in an effort to help you recognise the wins as they come to you, let’s consider some concrete proficiency milestones.

Could you introduce yourself at an AA meeting?

Let’s set our expectations nice and low for our first milestone in order to (hopefully) get a quick run on the board.

The traditional AA introduction in a meeting (in the movies at least) is “Hello, I’m so-and-so and I’m an alcoholic”.

Can you insert your name and an adjective of your choice instead?

“Bonjour, je m’appelle Katrina et je suis australienne*.”

Okay, you’re not going to set the world on fire with that sentence but it’s a start! You’ve got a foot on the ladder.

Could you introduce yourself at a party?

We’re just talking the basics here, not getting involved in a philosophical debate about the merits of Simone de Beauvoir’s later works. Do you think you could have a very short conversation with a French person about yourself: where you’re from, what you do, why you’re here at this fabulous party? Oui*? Félicitations*, you’ve just become a social papillon* in French!

Could you get around France for a couple of weeks without causing an international incident?

Do you think you’d be able to order a taxi, book into a hotel, perhaps hire a car and order in a restaurant without falling foul of the law? Some people call this traveller’s French, which makes it sound a lot easier than it actually is. Being able to pull this off requires a level of proficiency that doesn’t usually come from a quick read of your guidebook on the plane on the way over. Confidently navigating these situations demands not only linguistic skill, but some cultural savvy as well, and this usually only comes after you’ve been at your French for a while. So if you’re able to do this, chapeau* ! You’ve just moved up another rung on the language learning ladder.

Could you have an argument in French?

This is the rung that brought me undone when I was living in Paris. I won’t go into the gory details, but it involved the Musée d’Orsay, my tendency to procrastinate and some missing headphones. For the record, it also involved a gross miscarriage of justice*, but let’s move on.

Not being able to defend myself articulately in French when I felt I was being wronged was a low point in my French learning. I knew that if I broke into English, my French interlocutrice* would have ‘won’, so I continued on in my strangled and mangled French until it became clear to me that my only choice was to walk away. So I did, and managed to keep it together until I got home, but the minute my apartment door clicked shut, I burst into tears of frustration and humiliation. I can still feel it as it write this. Not the best day for my French, je t’assure*.

A former student of mine had the exact opposite experience though, when her car hire fell through on her first day in France. She found herself on the phone, arguing with the Hertz representative and was absolutely gobsmacked when all the words she wanted to say came streaming out of her mouth in the right order and with the perfect level of indignation. It was that day that she realised she’d reached a level of fluency she’d been aiming for.  She now lives part-time in France and I can only imagine how incroyable* her French is these days. How about we take Karen’s experience as inspiration over mine?

Could you make and maintain a friendship with a French person?

Finally, the true hallmark of proficiency, making a French friend. What better way to exercise your French muscles but with deep conversations, shared experiences, and maybe even some inside jokes (tout en français*)?

As you know, I don’t consider myself perfectly fluent in French, but I have reached this level of proficiency in the last few years and it feels like the most incredible reward ever for all the hard work I’ve put in. 

Don’t get me wrong, for the most part learning French has been an utter joy for me, but there have definitely been times (many, many times) where I’ve felt like I was stagnating, or worse, going backwards, and it was akin to hard labour. But from where I am now, and with the relationships I have with French people, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Ten times over.

So, let’s be careful what we wish for. Being totally fluent in French would be wonderful, it’s hard to deny, but where would we be without the thrill of the pursuit? Bon courage, les Chouchous*! I know you can do it, just go one rung at a time.


 

*Teacher’s Pets | *That’s for sure | *in the process of | *little pleasure | *life | *my glorious years | *Hello, my name is Katrina and I’m Australian | *Yes | *Congratulations | *butterfly | *Congratulations | *justice | *fellow speaker | *I assure you | *incredible | *all in French | *Good luck, Teacher’s Pets

How to Learn French - Et tu, Brutus ?

Well, this is embarrassing. Oftentimes when I ask our Chouchous* how they are as they come into class, they respond like this:

“Très bien, merci….et…..(long pause, scrunched up face)…tu (pleading eyes) ?”

For some reason, whenever I hear this response, the phrase “Et tu, Brutus?” comes to mind. It’s one of those phrases that you seem to pick up by osmosis and I’ve always thought that perhaps this is why students struggle to give the correct response to ça va* (which is et toi* ? by the way).

However, in doing some preliminary research for this article, I found out tout de suite* that the phrase is in fact “Et tu, Brute?” in Latin and “And you, Brutus?” in English. It turns out that long-standing loop in my head was wrong all along in any case.

Of course, if you’re reading this and have no idea (or interest) in what I’m talking about, you may more readily accept this logical (and simple) explanation as the most likely. Simply put, tu in French means ‘you’, so many students put two and two together (being et for ‘and’ and tu for ‘you’) and come up with et tu ?

It’s not a terrible mistake, but it is one that can crop up right at the start of a conversation and slightly derail proceedings, so if we can fix it without too much effort, tant mieux*, no?

The word toi belongs to a group of pronouns called ‘disjunctives’ and the name holds the key to their use. The dictionary definition of ‘disjunctive’ is: lacking any clear connection.

Bear that definition in mind as we contrast it with tu, for example. Tu is a subject pronoun and must be connected to a verb. In fact, you could say that subject pronouns need their accompanying verbs to make any sense at all.

Disjunctive pronouns, on the other hand, can be used without a verb. They can actually be used all by themselves (moi ?) or with little connecting words called conjunctions. Take a look at the table below to see the difference.

You’ll see I’ve marked in bold the shared English translations between the two different types of pronouns. I think this may be the root cause of the confusion.

By the way, disjunctive pronouns marry really well with lots of other little words to create quick rejoinders:

et toi ?
avec moi ?
sans nous ?
pour eux ?

and my personal favourite: the chez* family. In fact this is how I tend to remember them:

chez moi
chez toi
chez lui
chez elle
chez soi
chez nous
chez vous
chez eux
chez elles


So, next time you’re asked ça va, take a breath before answering with confidence, très bien, merci, et toi ?

Of course, you could simplify your life by calling everyone the formal vous, but that’s not nearly as much fun, is it?

*Teacher’s Pets | *How are you | *And you (yourself) | *straight away | *so much the better | *home/place

How to Learn French - French-lovin’ friends

With the French film festival almost over for another year, I’m betting many of you have taken a trip to le cinéma* in recent weeks.

While we’re so lucky to have access to this annual buffet* of French celluloid, I know from personal experience and also anecdotally that it can come with an unfortunate effet secondaire*.

Beaucoup de chouchous* (and I include myself in this count) have left screenings with shoulders slumped, regardless of the quality of the film they’ve just seen. Pourquoi*? Because watching a movie is possibly the worst gauge of your true level of French. Arguments, slang, different accents, turned backs and “in” jokes all make the task très difficile*. Yes, it’s true, if you were to travel to or live in a French-speaking country, these are the types of factors you’d be up against, but as a learner, do you really need try to jump over that very high bar just yet? And yet I do…

As you know I’ve been at this French caper for multiple decades, and I still play a (slightly depressing) game with myself each time I go. I know my French should be good enough to watch a whole movie without subtitles, and yet, do you think I can tear my eyes away from the subtitles for more than about three frames? I test myself each time I go, even resorting to closing my eyes at times to avoid the temptation of looking. This is a dangerous game, cependant*, as it removes all the visual clues that are so helpful to our comprehension.

My problem, and the problem of many of our students, is that if I don’t understand every single word, I start to panic, thinking I’m going to lose the thread of the plot entirely. I’ve written about this in the past with regards to listening exams and the same holds true with films. It really is a skill to have the sang-froid* to accept that you’re not understanding everything and to stay tuned in anyway. In my recent, slightly more successful attempts, I’ve noticed that something that slips by me often crops up in another form or phrase just a few seconds later, restoring my understanding. I just have to hold my nerve until it happens.

Of course, I’m speaking as an advanced French speaker here, but les films français* are there to be enjoyed by everyone, so read on for some more tips, no matter your niveau*.

Period pieces can be a good place to start. Not only are the costumes sumptuous and the stories often drawn from French history, but the dialogue is often much easier to understand. In gentler times, people spoke more deliberately and used a higher, more formal register that can be kinder to our oreilles*. Higher level French words are often very similar to English. Also, take out the street slang that often peppers contemporary tales and you’re left with a language that more closely resembles your textbooks. That’s not to say that slang should not be learned at some point (it is after all, a whole lot of fun) but again, is this really the battle you want to wage just yet?

When you’re a beginner, reading the English subtitles is fairly unavoidable if you wish to follow along. As you improve, you may be able to pick up a word or two of the dialogue and see it in the translation, which can be a real thrill. With every movie you watch, your ears will discern more and more and in time, you may even find yourself predicting the English translation. Chapeau*! This is a huge step. Hélas*, no sooner have you fait péter le bouchon* on a fine bottle of champagne to celebrate, you may be scandalisé* to see that the English translations do not match your own. Have you been being duped this whole time? Well, no. It turns out subtitle translators are restricted to three lines of text across the screen. Any more and the text will start to monte* up into the actors’ faces, et ça ne se fait pas*. Therefore, the translators are forced to summarise the French dialogue, which is why you’ll often find a watered-down version of the rich  French dialogue as you read.

Lastly, choose a film that resonates with your interests. You’ll stay more engaged, and if you’re familiar with the subject matter, you’ll be more likely to be able to guess at certain words and meanings. Even better, go for a French film that has had an English remake you’ve seen. There are plenty to choose from. Bon ciné* !

• CODA - La Famille Bélier

• The Birdcage - La Cage aux Folles

• Three Men and a Baby - Trois Hommes et un Couffin

• Cousins - Cousins, Cousines

• The Talented Mr Ripley - Plein Soleil

*cinema | *smorgasbord | *side effect | *Lots of Teacher’s Pets | *Why? | *very difficult | however | *self-control | *French films | *level | *ears | *Hats off to you | *Alas | *cracked the cork (literally “made the cork fart”) | *scandalised | *climb | *that’s not done | *Happy cinema-going!

How to Learn French - Gotcha!

I’m not sure about you, but I have memories of being told in primary school that the word ‘get’ was borderline verboten. It’s possible my teachers were stricter than most, but more likely, times have simply changed in the grammar world. Given my primary school days are more than four decades in the past I should not be surprised. Nonetheless, in doing research for this article, I was indeed surprised to see the legitimacy the word ‘get’ is afforded as a highly used, irregular English verb.

Though I likely avoided use of the word ‘get’ in my hunt for scratch ’n’ sniff stickers while at school, I absolutely know I use, even overuse, this verb in my everyday life.

I was first alerted to this through learning French. Since French does not have a verb that directly translates as ‘to get’, once I moved beyond the basics, I was often pulled up short by this missing verb.

Just in case you’re not convinced of its ubiquitousness in English, here are a few examples off the top of my head:

1. To get a drink
2. To get an email
3. To get a new car
4. To get angry
5. To get married
6. To get drunk
7. To get some results
8. To get a cold
9. To get your car cleaned
10. To get your hair cut


In fact, given the multitude of ways we use ‘to get’ in English, this article could run to a smallish book, so, how do we get around this word in the most commonly cases?

The easiest, and probably most ‘correct’ way, is to try to think of an appropriate synonym.

to get a drink = to fetch a drink
to get an email = to receive an email
to get a new car = to buy a new car

So try instead:

Je cherche une boisson (I’m looking for a drink)
J’ai reçu un email (I received an email)
Je vais acheter une nouvelle voiture (I’m going to buy a new car)

What happens, though, when we use ‘get’ to mean ‘to become’ in English, which we do a lot, as in examples #4, #5 and #6 above? This is a little trickier. In my experience, French usually has a dedicated verb for these instances and often it’s a reflexive one.

to get angry = se fâcher
to get married = se marier
to get drunk = se saouler

These verbs are a little tricker to conjugate, granted, but if you practise them enough, they’ll eventually come more naturally to you.

Je me suis fâché(e) (I got angry)
Je me marie ! (I’m getting married!)
Je me suis saoulé(e) (I got drunk).

In some cases, the verb ‘avoir’ will give you a less formal-sounding, but still correct, option. Take these two sentences as examples.

to get some results
to get a cold

Instead of opting for ‘j’ai obtenu des résultats’, you could use ‘j’ai eu des résultats’ instead (literally ‘I had some results’).

Rather than going for the more formal ‘J’ai attrapé un rhume’, ‘j’ai eu un rhume’ works just as well and may even sound more natural to native speakers. Either are fine, though, so the choice is yours.

Those of you who have done advanced courses at Lingua Franca will have certainly encountered le causatif (the causative construction). I didn’t realise the usefulness of this turn of phrase when I first learned it, but having now taught it for several years and listened to a lot of French via the news, podcasts, series and movies I have come to understand its value.

Without realising it, we use it a lot in English as well. Think of the difference in these two sentences:

I clean the house
I have the house cleaned

I know which one I’d rather and this has motivated me to look into this construction more carefully. We use the causative when we’re not performing an action ourselves but having someone else doing it for us. It’s a personal goal of mine to trade active sentences for causative ones for all the menial tasks I don’t want to do.

Sometimes it’s less about la paresse*, it’s just common sense. For example:

I cut my hair
I have my hair cut

So try these:

Je fais nettoyer la maison (I get the house cleaned)
Je fais couper mes cheveux (I get my hair cut)


I predict that the more you think about the use of the verb ‘get’ in English, the more you risk a sense of overwhelm as you realise how heavily we rely on this three-lettered workhorse. Please don’t succumb. The first step is to simply take notice of the ‘get’ phrases including you reach for most often when trying to speak French. Note them down, and see if they fit into one of the four categories above. They most likely will. If they don’t and you really, really want to use one in particular, challenge yourself to dip into a good dictionary to see if you can find the translation and start testing it out for yourself. Bon courage* !

*Good luck!

How to Learn French - you're not alone.

With the new year now underway, I’ve made a return to tennis and its attendant feeling of failure it appears to evoke in me.

As you well know by now, j’adore mon tennis*  but as a beginner there is more than one concept I’m having trouble mastering.

Par exemple*, the coach wants me to hit the ball with an upward motion in order to generate some top spin instead of hitting it so flat. He’s been trying to get me to do this now for about a year and I feel as though I’m no closer to doing it now than when I first picked up la raquette*. He’s explained it to, shown me, drilled me, encouraged me, cajoled and reminded me about mille fois*, and yet my body is just not getting the message.

Today, however, I may have had a breakthrough, and it was all down to just a few words. Those mots magiques*, you ask?

“Everyone finds it difficult, Katrina.”

All of a sudden, it clicked. I still can’t do it, bien sûr*, (the man’s good but he’s not a miracle worker) but with that comment, my mindset completely changed. All of a sudden the (embarrassing amount of) pressure I was putting on myself lifted and I nearly laughed out loud because it’s something I say regularly to my own students.

We all like to think we’re unique and it’s true that no-one else has the same mélange* of DNA, strengths, weaknesses, quirks and foibles. However, when it comes to learning, thinking you’re unique can sometimes hamper your progress, particularly when you think you’re the only one who’s having trouble grasping something.

What we see at Lingua Franca, and what I’m sure coaches the world over see, is that there are certain skills or concepts that the vast majority of learners find difficult to master.

So here’s an incomplete list of some of the most common.

• Not being able to remember the gender of words

• Forgetting the third person plural conjugations of être* (sont), avoir* (ont), aller* (vont) and faire* (font).

• Thinking it’s vous faisez, not vous faites* (it’s irregular)

• Not being sure how to say ‘my friend’

• Not knowing how to say ‘some water’ versus ‘a bottle of water’

• The numbers quatre (4), cinq (5), quatorze (14), quinze (15), quarante (40) and cinquante (50)

• Mixing up pouvoir*, vouloir* and devoir*

• Not remembering the four ‘r’s (retourner*, revenir*, rentrer* and rester*) of the MRS RDP VANDERTRAMP verbs

• Forgetting to make the agreement in the past tense of verbs that take être

• Finding it tough to know when to use the passé composé* and when to use the imparfait*

• Confusing pendant, depuis and pour

• Finding it hard to recognise the difference between the imparfait and the futur simple* when reading

• Not knowing when to use savoir* and when to use connaitre*

• Forgetting it’s always beaucoup de* and beaucoup des

• The subjunctive. Need I say more?
  
  
  Realising we’re all (or have been) in the same bateau* can make us feel less uniquely silly. So, before you turn on yourself when you fais une erreur*, remind yourself that learning something is hard, it takes practice and perseverance and most importantly, that you’re not alone.
  
  C’est difficile, mais c’est difficile pour tout le monde*. Your new mantra.
  
  
  
  
  
  *I love my tennis | *For example | *the racket | *a thousand times | *magic words | *of course | *mix | *to be | *to have | *to go | *to do/make | *you do/make | *to be able to/can | *to want/wish | *to have to/must | *to return | *to come back | *to go back (home) | *to stay | *past tense | *imperfect | *future simple tense  | *to know | *to know | *lots of | *boat | *make a mistake | *It’s hard, but it’s hard for everyone.

French travel phrases that really do the trick

Last month I mentioned one of my favourite French phrases for travel: c’est gentil*. It’s a phrase I heard a lot when I was living in France so decided to add it to my arsenal when thanking someone for a service. ‘Merci, c’est gentil’ means something like ‘Thank you, that’s kind of you’ and from my experience it goes down a treat. In fact, that’s not entirely true. It doesn’t provoke a huge reaction, and perhaps that’s why I like it so much. It’s more inclined to elicit a genuine smile and a nod from the person I’m speaking to, which in turn makes me feel like I fit in a bit more. I think we’re all striving for that to a degree when we’re travelling, non*?

So, sans plus tarder*, here are some other tried and true travel phrases that will take your French  beyond ‘bonjour’, ‘merci’ and ‘je voudrais’. There’s nothing wrong with these phrases, by the way. Au contraire*, they’re extremely useful, but if you’re ready to up your skills, here are five that really pack a linguistic punch.

Literally meaning ‘that works’ this phrase is easy to say and can be used in a variety of situations. Concierge promises to contact you later in the day about a possible reservation? Ça marche. Even better: Merci beaucoup, ça marche. The next train is leaving in 10 minutes from voie* B? Merci, ça marche. A shop assistant tells you there are credits but no refunds for the item you’ve just purchased: ça marche. Even if you’ve been speaking English up to that point, it’s still a good idea to start to throw in these little French phrases where you can. It’s low risk and can work to increase your confidence.

Granted, this is a bit of a mouthful, but if you are able to master it (and it may take a few goes), I believe it will fundamentally change your French experience. It’s so polite: ‘I am sorry to disturb you’, and I find it really disarms French people for that reason. Of course you could use excusez-moi* (and if you’re just starting out this is a very helpful phrase indeed) but if you’ve mastered that and are ready to try something a little more sophisticated, this one’s for you.

To break it down, start with je suis*. Anyone who has done more than a term of French will know this phrase and will likely be able to use it confidently (je suis australienne*, je suis comptable*, je suis divorcée* etc). Now add the fact that you’re ‘desolate’ over having to interrupt your target person and you have je suis désolé(e). This is a useful phrase in itself (so I advise keeping that one sous le coude* for future use). I find the the final touch is fairly easy to remember as the word ‘déranger’ looks so much like ‘deranged’ and it’s a word that is very evocative to me. It brings to mind a person so bothered by the fact that a fellow human being is approaching them that their head starts to swivel around, their hair goes crazy and steam starts to shoot out of their ears. This image makes me laugh (I might be only one…) which takes some of the pressure off. ‘De vous déranger’, translates as ‘to you derange/disturb’ and sounds quite deranged in itself, but trust me when I say it really does lay the terrain for a calm and respectful exchange, so practise stringing it together and try it out. You can do it.

This is both interesting and contentious at once. It’s interesting as it is actually ‘je peux’ (I can) inverted and it’s the only verb in French that changes form when you reverse the order of the subject and verb. 

Now for the contentious bit. As you may know, inverting the subject and the verb is the most formal way to ask a question in French. If you did French at school, it is likely you were taught to ask questions this way. Parlez-vous anglais?* is a classic example which many of us rote-learned all those years ago. The inversion technique, as it is known, is still a legitimate way to ask a question in French, however it is not used extensively anymore in everyday spoken French. It’s not wrong, in fact it’s very correct, almost too correct. Though it literally translates to ‘Can I’ because of the construction, in import it’s probably closer to ‘May I’ and while this is a lovely turn of phrase, it may not be appropriate for use in more casual situations. 

That said, we discussed last month the idea of finding a phrase you like and using it over and over, so if you’re able to get this phrase out, use it! One of its benefits is that you can simply add a verb after it in its whole form and you’re away. For example:

Puis-je avoir - May I have
Puis-je voir - May I see
Puis-je demander - May I ask

Comme vous pouvez imaginer* the list goes on and on.

One of the first phrases you learn as a beginner is ‘j’aime’ (I like), quickly followed by its opposite ‘je n’aime pas’ (I don’t like).

While these phrases are certainly very handy, the negative version can come across as a little too direct, so adding the word ‘trop’ at the end can go a long way to softening your delivery.

’Je n’aime pas trop’ translates roughly to ‘I’m not a huge fan of’ of ‘I’m not fussed on’ and is particularly useful when you want to politely nix a suggestion. Imagine a waiter suggests you try the salmon. A simple ‘je n’aime pas trop le saumon’ is a gentle way of letting them know that you’d rather choose something else. Consider the difference in translations:

Je n’aime pas le saumon - I don’t like salmon
Je n’aime pas trop le saumon - I’m not a huge fan of salmon

Again, there is nothing wrong with a more direct approach but sometimes having the ability to soften your language can feel rather empowering.

If you’re a fan of le shopping*, add this one to your grab bag of favourite phrases tout de suite*.

If you’re keen to buy some time just browsing in a Parisian boutique, offer this phrase up when the shop assistant approaches you. Even if you’re not exactly sure of what he or she has said to you, it’s likely to be along the lines of ‘Can I help you?’ so replying that you’re just looking is a perfectly appropriate response that will enable you to carry on uninterrupted.

Alors, voilà*! I hope you find this mini-list helpful. I’d be very interested to hear of any phrases you rely on when you’re ‘on the ground’. Let us benefit from your experience by noting them in the comments. Merci et à bientôt.*

*That’s kind of you | *Aren’t we? | *without any further ado | *On the contrary | *platform | *Excuse me | *I am | *I’m Australian | *I’m an accountant | *I’m divorced | *I am sorry | *in your back pocket (literally ‘under your elbow’) | *Do you speak English | *As you can imagine | *shopping | *straight away | *So, there you go | *Thank you and see you soon.

Breakthrough tips from Paris & Bordeaux

Bonjour! 

Well, the dust has finally settled on our trips to Paris and Bordeaux a couple of months ago and we’re all (somewhat sadly) back into our normal routines here in Australia.

Of course there are plans to go back, but I thought it worth breaking our usual transmission of top tips (last month we were up to numéro 5 sur 10*) to share with you some of the fresh perspectives we gleaned from our time sur le terrain*.

Over the years, I’ve shared these tips with our students, but there’s nothing like being mis sur la sellette* to reinforce best practices. This is why immersion trips are so valuable. They give you the chance to really test out your French and make adjustments along the way as you see what works and what doesn’t.

So, here are a few breakthrough tips that’ll not only help you next time you're navigating your way in a French-speaking world, but in your regular classes as well.

We encourage our students right from the very first lesson to open any interaction with a French person by way of a simple “Bonjour, madame*” or “Bonsoir, monsieur*”. Even an absolute beginner can achieve this (with un peu de courage*), it shows respect and it fundamentally improves the quality of the conversation that ensues.

Where our more advanced students report coming unstuck, though, is when the response to the first question or request is volleyed straight back in rapid-fire French and they’re left open-mouthed and reeling with no idea of how to respond.

Our cobayes* tell us this is often where the French person will break into English. Our students generally know better than to take it personally (the French person is almost always trying to reciprocate the respect you paid in speaking their language to them), but what they found difficult was finding a way to continue in French.

We suggested something like: “Je suis désolé(e), je n’ai pas compris, mais je veux pratiquer mon français. Pourriez-vous répéter plus lentement, s’il vous plaît*?”

If that seems like a mouthful, perhaps go for something simpler, such as:

• “Mon français n’est pas très bon, répétez en français, s’il vous plaît*.

• “Désolé(e), je voudrais pratiquer mon français. Ça va*?”

• “On peut parler en français?”

Said gently and with a little smile, you’re almost guaranteed to get your own way.

Often when we try to speak French in a ‘real’ situation, our nerves get the better of us, causing us to speak more softly that we normally would. If what comes back is “Pardon*?” it’s easy to assume the person you’re speaking to hasn’t understood you, when in fact they simply haven’t heard what you said.

So before you take the leap, take a breath, redressez les épaules* and speak with confidence. You may be happily surprised by the result.

A well-rehearsed phrase that you can get out regularly and with ease is une chance unique* for bolstering your confidence. In the next post, we’ll take a look of some of the favorites our Chouchous* relied on during the trip, but for now I’ll give you one of mine.

I like to add “C’est gentil” just after I’ve said “Merci.” It’s something I picked up when living in France and decided to add it to my repertoire. It means the equivalent of “That’s kind of you” and it’s always met with a positive response. It’s easy to say and makes me feel a bit less like a tourist and more like a local (every little bit helps!).

At the beginning of each morning’s lesson during the Summer School, I’d ask the students to report back on their experiences of the previous day when they’d been out and about practising their French.

As the week wore on, they were more and more willing to take risks, which led not only to some very funny histoires* but some very valuable insights as well.

Time and time again, they reported being told that their little erreurs* were not only unimportant but actually charming. Although at first hard to believe, it does make sense if you were to reverse the situation. Imagine you’re in your home country and you’re speaking to someone for whom English is not their first language. Do you think poorly of them if they make the odd little slip up here and there? Probablement pas*. Well, it’s the same with your French. Even if a French person corrects your mistake, take it as a compliment. In most cases, they’re just highly impressed you’ve taken the time to learn their language and are trying to help you along the way. So don’t let the fear of making une gaffe* prevent you from striking out. You never know what you’ll miss out on.

When I’m tired or under stress (and isn’t that pretty much the definition of travelling, as great as it is?) my accent tends to slip and I can hear a slight Aussie twang come through. This always horrifies me and yet the reaction from French people is almost always a little smile.

After a big week in Paris, compounded by a very long delay at Gare Montparnasse, I arrived in Bordeaux dragging my feet. As much as I was excited to be there, I was absolutely épuisée* so jumped in the first cab I could find, eager to get to my new home. The chauffeur de taxi* was friendly, so we chatted for a couple of minutes about this and that. I was snapped out of my weariness, though, when he said: “J’adore votre petit accent.” The ‘petit’ was what gave it away. He meant he could discern an English accent of some description and my knee-jerk reaction was one of annoyance. To be fair it wouldn’t have taken much to annoy me at that point, but this felt like a low blow. I swear I wasn’t being spiteful but my next question was “Parlez-vous anglais*?”, to which he responded “Yes, a leetle” and went on to tell me he loved speaking English with tourists but was embarrassed by his accent. I, on the the hand, was utterly charmed by it and told him so. The circular nature of our exchange was not lost on me so I settled back and vowed just to enjoy the moment and to stop being so hung up on being perfect. We do learn a lot about ourselves when we travel, ça c’est sûr*.

*number 5 out of 10 | *on the ground | *put on the spot | *Hello, madam | *Good evening, sir | *a bit of courage | *guinea pigs | *I’m sorry, I didn’t understand but I want to practise my French. Could you repeat that slowly, please? | *My French isn’t very good, could you repeat that in French, please? | *I’m sorry, I’d like to practise my French. Is that okay? | *Can we speak in French? | *I’m sorry? | *put your shoulders back | *a golden ticket | *Teacher’s Pets | *really | *stories | *mistakes | *Probably not | *a boo-boo | *exhausted | *taxi driver | *I love your little accent | *that’s for sure

Swings and roundabouts

If you’ve veered off the French path and onto the chemin* of Russian literature at some point, you’re likely familiar with this quote from Leo Tolstoy:

”Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Tolstoy wrote this in 1875, and yet is was not until nearly 125 years later that his observation was scientifically proven. Psychologists Paul Rozin and Edward Royzman published a study in 2001 showing that humans have a cognitive bias towards the negative. That is, as a race, we feel negative events more intensely and they tend to have a more significant impact on our psychological states than positive events.

When I first found out about this, it made so much sense. I’ve always thought of myself as a positive person in the main, yet my day-to-day thoughts often veer towards the negative. I was curieuse* - why do we do this?

According to the research, it’s a question of l’évolution*. Historically, the potential price to pay for under-reacting to a perceived risk or negative event is much greater than overacting to one that turns out to be benign. Though thankfully in daily life we’ve mostly rid ourselves of the need for a physical ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ response, this negativity bias is still in our history as well as our DNA, it seems. Here are a couple of examples of where it’s in evidence even today:

1. The sensation of pain is more keenly felt than the absence of pain and we therefore have many more words to describe acute pain than we do extreme pleasure.
2. We’re more inclined to look for causes of negative events than positive ones. For example, analyses of wars are plentiful, but very few studies are done on periods of peace.
3. As those clever Russians (again) say: “A spoonful of tar can spoil a barrel of honey, but a spoonful of honey does nothing for a barrel of tar”.

So it seems it’s completely natural to view most of our life’s events, whether quotidiens* or très importants* through a slightly negative lens.
Despite all of this though, I can tell you with 100% certainty that a recent hit of tennis with my friend was just flat out awful. I mean, really bad.

Do you remember that in a previous post I mentioned the goal of a 100-point tennis rally? That day, my friend and I would have been lucky to have made it to three. The harder we tried, the worse it got, to the point where we ended up in fits of laughter because we were both just SO BAD. We’re also both pretty competitive, though, so although we were laughing, in our heart of hearts we just couldn’t give up the fight. Unfortunately, with each renewed effort, things just continued to go south.

To make matters worse, a couple of guys who’d booked the court after us turned up early for their slot. We’d seen them play before and they were absolute guns and (lucky us) that day, they had nothing better to do than to watch as we floundered, missed and shanked our way to the end of our allotted time. As we walked off the court, they asked pleasantly (and without a trace of sarcasm) “Good game, girls?”. You can imagine our reply. We launched into how bad we were, how hopeless, how it was almost a joke how bad we were, and on and on we went until one of them interrupted us with:

“Any day you’re out here is a good day, though.”

We smiled and agreed, but inwardly I was rolling my eyes and I know Tanya probably was, too. The comment seemed flippant and trite and I grumbled my way home vowing to never be that bad again.

It was only a few days later, when teaching a class, that it struck me just how true the statement really is. I’m not even talking from an “every day on earth spent above ground is a bonus” way, though I think can agree on that one as well. What I mean more precisely (and what I think our tennis sage was trying to remind us) is that every day you put a racket in your hand is of benefit to you. In the case of French, each time you pick up a pencil, pull out a verb table, crack the spine of a workbook, think of a word in the shower or turn up to class it is a win. No matter how you feel you perform on any given day, you simply come away with more experience and that in invaluable.

My sincere hope is that you don’t have the exaggerated negative bias I seem to have for my tennis. As a tutor, I have never once thought “Oh gee, so-and-so’s having a bad day today”. Yes, some days you may make more errors than usual, or draw a blank on a word I know you know, but I take it as read that by the end of the lesson, you’ve progressed, because you have! You’ve got more runs on the board, if you’ll allow me to mix my sporting metaphors.

Although most of us don’t revel in making mistakes, they are fantastic teachers. There are words in French I will never, ever forget and they stick because I associate them with embarrassing situations where I mucked them up. I remember when I was living in France there was a canicule* one summer and my little apartment was turning into a rôtissoire* with each passing heure*. I took myself off to my local Monoprix to buy a fan and asked the sales assistant “Où sont les aspirateurs*?” in my best French. It was only when she led me over to the vacuum cleaners that I realised my mistake. Naturellement, j’ai rougi* but I have never forgotten the word ventilateur* and likely never will.

This is one of the benefits of learning in a group setting, as well. You’re able to observe others stumble and stammer where you may not, or look on in awe as someone manages to utter a perfect sentence. And then five minutes later, the tables will likely turn, and turn again, and turn once more and the whole while, you’re learning, both from others’ mistakes and your own.

Whether your faux pas* is a simple slip up or a series of them, the trick is to not let it define your appreciation of what you’re achieving. With every renewed attempt, you’re moving your French along in the right direction. Et tu sais quoi*? The next time Tanya and I played we absolutely creamed it. Ce que l'on gagne d'un côté, on le perd de l’autre*, as the French say. So don’t give up. 

*path | *curious | *evolution | *daily | *very important | *heatwave | *rotisserie | *hour | *Where are the fans? | *Naturally, I blushed | *fan | *mistake (literally: false step) | *And you know what? | *The money that you lose on the swings, you gain on the roundabouts. (literally: what we win on one side, we lose on the other)

Sent to the fence

If you’re anything like me, you’re probably in a bit of a hurry to learn French. By that, I don’t necessarily mean you have an upcoming trip or are about to take a new job in a French-speaking country. I just mean that you’re very keen to get better and dream of the day when French words will flow effortlessly out of your bouche*.

I remember when I first got serious about my French. I have a very clear vision of my bedroom floor being strewn with verb conjugations on lined foolscap pages with those little white circles around the holes to stop them from tearing out of the lever arch files (remember them?). We only graduated to those ever-awkward files in upper school if I recall. I also have no memory of my sister (with whom I shared a room) being mad about the mess for once, so she must have already left to go off to university in Perth. My best guess, therefore, would be Year 11, which means I’d been doing French for several years before I really knuckled down.

Our teachers must have been extremely patient with us as we fumbled our way through our verbs, mangling and mispronouncing the conjugations in our rush to achieve fluency. I imagine they didn’t have a lot of choice, mind you. This was coastal semi-rural Western Australia in the 80s. I suppose they were taking a ‘softly, softly’ approach in order to avoid losing us to the much stronger forces of the time: the beach and boys. I’ll be forever grateful to the language department at my local high school for opening our eyes to the world beyond our Puberty Blues-esque origins. They really were battling a pretty strong cultural current.

So, possibly motivated by a short exchange I did to l’Île de la Réunion* in Year 10, I must have decided it was time to get serious about my French. I did so by writing out reams and reams of verb conjugations. I did it because I loved French, but I must admit, too, that it satisfied the slightly obsessive part of me that dogs/helps me to this day. Yes, I had to brush them up a little many moons later when I started Lingua Franca, but the intellectual muscle memory was there, so the process was more agréable* than laborieux*.

I have no such muscle memory when it comes to tennis, as I must have only played it for a season or two as a child. This is an unfortunate fact for my tennis coach, though he wears it with patience and grace. One of the kindest and friendliest men I’ve ever met, he nevertheless lets me get away with absolument rien*.

At a recent lesson, before I even got a ball in my hand, Vince asked me to shadow his stroke with my racket in an attempt to get the fundamentals of the forehand swing down pat. We did this with our backs to the fence to the side of the court so as to shorten my swing and therefore reduce the margin for error. When he was satisfied I was close to mimicking his stroke, he allowed me onto the court, and started gently lobbing balls to my forehand side, reminding me that the technique was more important than the result.

Though my ears received the message, my body did not react as it was simultaneously receiving a message from my brain that screamed “imagine if I absolutely creamed this ball and hit a winner?”. Naturally, any technique I may have possessed just a minute or two before was instantly forgotten and as though to underscore my recalcitrance as a student, my ball went straight into the net. Vince let this go a couple of times (as I mentioned, he really is très patient*), but as more and more of my balls found the net, he suggested that we may need to return to the fence, sans ballon*, to go over the technique once again.

Naturellement*, I didn’t want to do this, so I tried harder and harder to whack the ball over the net, which caused me to tighten up and, well, you can probably imagine the rest. Being sent to the corner, like when we were in primary school is called aller au piquet* in French, and with my head slightly bowed and my sneakers dragging across the court to the sideline, Vince probably wondered if he wasn’t, in fact, dealing with une petite gamine*, rather than a fully-grown 51-year-old femme*.

In case you haven’t already gathered, being sent to the fence is the sportif* equivalent of being told to learn your verbs.

So many of you express the desire to just “speak, speak, speak!” and we, as your tutors, are here to facilitate that, of course, but it is also truly what we’d love for you to be able to do. There’s nothing better than looking at a student you’ve been teaching for months or perhaps years on end, and one day suddenly realising they actually speak French! It’s as rewarding for us as it is enriching for you. Sometimes, though, achieving that goal does mean we have to suggest that you spend some time back against the fence in order to come back to the playing field of speaking better prepared to claim your victory.

By the way, I’ve noticed over the years that there are periods where you can skate by without really mastering your verbs…and then there are times (often months later, when you’re least expecting it) when that fence will be looming. In my experience, and according to the Lingua Franca system) they are:

1. At the end of Absolute Beginner Revision: you really want to have mastered the verbs être, avoir, aller and faire in the present by then, simply so you can enjoy seeing just how much you can already say based on these crucial verbs. It’s a lot.

2. Intermediate 1: this is where we introduce the imparfait (imperfect tense). While the concept of the imparfait can be tricky, the conjugation is relatively simple. Simple, that is, if you learned the conjugations of the 20 slightly irregular verbs we taught you back in Beginner 1, such as dormir, sortir, mettre, boire, prendre et al. Ringing any bells? The reason' they’re crucial is that in order to find the stem for the imparfait you must go to the ‘nous’ form of the present tense, and if you find yourself guessing at that, put down the ball, slink over the fence and start limbering up.

3. Advanced 2: for a similar reason as above, in order to be able to conjugate the subjunctive tense, you need to know your present tense ‘ils/elles’ conjugations. We find that when students aren’t 100% confident with these, it really does add unnecessary stress to learning this rather abstruse concept.

La morale de cette histoire*? A little bit of effort goes a long way. Do your future self a kindness by committing your current one to learning a verb conjugation a day. Here’s the first one to get you started. It’s one people commonly get wrong when trying to take their first steps in speaking in the imparfait. Je t’en prie*.

BOIRE - to drink

je bois 
tu bois
il/elle/on boit
nous buvons
vous buvez
ils/elles boivent

Therefore, to say ‘I was drinking’, we take the ‘nous’ form of the present tense conjugation, remove the -ons and add the imperfect endings. So, je buvais = I was drinking. Voilà*!

Next month, in an effort to remain at all times contraire*, we’ll look at how every time you turn up to French is a win. Until then, maybe buy a pack of 500 loose leaf A4 sheets and see how much damage you can do. Bon courage*.

*mouth | *Reunion Island | *enjoyable | *laborious | *absolutely nothing | *very patient | *without the ball | *Naturally | *to be sent to the corner | *a little girl | *woman | *sporty | *The moral of the story? | *There you go | *contrary | *Good luck

Go high or simplify

You probably know that English and French share many of the same words. There’s a very good reason for that, and if you’re at all interested in history, you may enjoy this article about the influence of French on the English language during the Norman Invasion in the time of Guillaume le Conquérant*.

To paraphrase, when William the Conqueror invaded England, he brought with him the French Norman language which was spoken at court. The masses, by contrast, continued to speak English. For this reason, words used by farmers, such as cow, pig and deer remained English, whereas when the flesh of those animals was prepared to be eaten at the lavish banquets of the court, the words ‘boeuf’ (beef), ‘porc’ (pork) and ‘venaison’ (venison) were used instead. Though the Normans sont partis* 300 years later, traces of the French language of course remained.

La bonne nouvelle* is that we can use this little history lesson to our advantage when speaking French.

If you find yourself stuck on a word, say for example ‘money’, try elevating your thinking to that of a king. Would he waste his time talking about grubby money? No, he’d be talking finance* of course.

Or perhaps you want to describe something that is ‘over the top’. Rather than search your brain for those three words, which are unlikely to translate directly as the phrase is somewhat idiomatic, try for a more formal way to explain the same sentiment. Extravagant is a word shared by both French and English, so apply your best French accent to it and you’re away! The fact that up to 45% of French and English words are the same or similar means it’s definitely worth a try. And the more soutenu* the word, the more likely you’ll be to pull it off.

As an example, in a recent class, one of our students, Tracey, was searching for the word ‘weather report’. She looked at me quizzically for help and I told to her to ‘go high’, hoping she’d choose the word meteorology (la météo is used in French for the weather bulletin). Instead, and almost as a joke, she said ‘la prédiction’? and guess what? She was right.

Conversely, if ever you’re getting yourself tied up in knots about how to say a word in French, try to bring yourself back to basics. Imagine the vocabulary of a young child. Do they know the word ‘novel’? Probablement pas*, but they do know the word ‘book’ and I bet you do, too, in French. 

Perhaps you want to talk about a politician addressing the nation. Could you instead say she was speaking to them? I know it can be uncomfortable to express yourself in such a rudimentary (simple?) way, but rather get your message across than stop, stumble and then give up. As I’ve said before, the aim of the game is to keep the conversation flowing.

So, if you find yourself stuck, remember, go high or simplify. It’s a skill that takes practice, but I promise you, your efforts will be well-rewarded.


*William the Conqueror | *left | *The good news | *finance | *formal/high level | *Probably not

Walk before you can run

Last month, I started down my Top 5 list of tips for speaking French. I hope you’ve been practising recently and have started to see les fruits de tes efforts*. Don’t be discouraged if you feel you’ve not made great strides. As tutors we know it’s sometimes difficult for students to see their progress, but if you’ve made any attempts at all, you’re more experienced and almost certainly better than you were before you did so. Allez*! Let’s get onto Top Tip #2.

Boring, je sais*, especially when you’re dying to speak French fluently. I mentioned in a previous post to think about slowing down your speech, as if communicating an important message to a four-year-old (do…not…put…the mobile phone…in….the toilet), but I feel it’s worth a bit of elaboration again this month.

It’s important not to run before you can walk and one way you can do this is to consciously slow down your speech, or rather, as this is more often the problem, your thoughts.

We’re so used to thinking and speaking at lightning speed in our own language that sometimes we try to do the same in French. You’ve put in so much time to learn your vocabulary, conjugate your verbs, remember the difference between au, du, de la, aux (or is it en, or dans - oh mon dieu*!) that by the time you come to speak, your head is an electric field, firing shots all over the place with the result that when it comes time to open your bouche*, your brain has seized up and you just draw a big, fat blank. Please let me assure you this is incredibly common and absolutely normal. However, if you launch into speaking in that frame of mind, ça va mal finir*. 

If you don’t make a conscious effort to slow down your racing mind and therefore your speech, instead of inching slowly towards the rabbit hole we all know so well, you race right into it and then can’t get out. Remember, le but* is to keep the conversation going. What usually happens by going too fast out of the gates is we strike a word we have no idea how to say very early on. We, as tutors, see it all the time. The student’s brow furrows first, then eye contact is lost because we tend to look up and to the left when we’re trying to remember something. This is followed by an awkward pause and almost guaranteed, our valiant Chouchou* will break into English with “Ugh, how do you say XYZ in French?” and the momentum is lost. Worse (and I know I’ve been guilty of this), the student reaches for their phone or dictionary, picks up their pencil and enters their own little world as they look for the word they think will get them out of their dilemma. In my experience, even I do find it, the person to whom I’m speaking has lost interest by that point and it’s very hard to pick up the thread of the conversation from there. Better to creep toward that potential rabbit hole and give yourself a chance to step around it.

Remember, calmez-vous*, slow it down, lentement mais sûrement is the path to good conversation.

Next month, Top Tip #3 gives you the choice: go high or simplify. Bonne continuation et bon courage!*.

*the fruits of your labour | *Come on | *I know | *oh my god | *mouth | *it’s not going to go well | *the goal | *Teacher’s Pet | *Calm down | *slowly but surely | *Hope it all keeps going well | *Good luck.

La Petite Histoire

If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.

La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, Chapter 5 of the Intermediate 3 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Veuillez attacher votre ceinture, s’il vous plaît, Madame. Nous allons atterrir à Heathrow bientôt.” L’hôtesse de l’air a souri gentiment et a continué le long du couloir en faisant ses contrôles de sécurité.

J’ai regardé Anouk qui avait les yeux fixés sur les nuages vers l’extérieur de l’hublot.

“Maman, on va pouvoir voir la maison de la Reine d’ici ?” elle m’a demandé. Elle avait l’air sérieuse.

“C’est un peu plus grand qu’une maison, chérie,” je lui ai dit “mais on ne sait jamais. En fait, demain on va voir sa maison de plus près quand Tatie Amina nous montrera les sites touristiques de Londres.”

“Ah,” elle a dit, ses yeux grands ouverts. “J’espère qu’on la voit.”

“On verra, ma petite,” je l’ai rassurée en prenant sa main pour l’atterrissage.

Trois heures plus tard on est arrivés à notre l’hôtel, près de la station de métro Gloucester Road. J’étais absolument ravie d’être à Londres pour la première fois. Tout me semblait tellement charmant, même si c’était une des plus grandes villes du monde. “Paris est sublime,” je me suis dit, “mais cette ville a un vrai caractère. Je l’adore déjà.”

Nous nous sommes installés dans nos chambres d’hôtel respectives et le plan était de se reposer un peu avant d’aller dîner à Covent Garden. Il était 14h30. Anouk avait l’air très fatigué, la pauvre. Moi, par contre, j’étais très impatiente de sortir de l’hôtel pour pouvoir découvrir le quartier. J’ai demandé à Amina et Hervé de garder Anouk pour une heure ou deux et heureusement ils étaient d’accord. J’ai pris la clef de ma chambre et je suis allée parler avec le concierge pour lui demander les directions jusqu’au métro, ou The Underground, comme disent les Anglais.

Après un peu de confusion à propos de la prononciation du nom “Gloucester” (je ne comprendrai jamais les règles de prononciation de l’anglais !) j’ai quitté l’hôtel avec un plan du quartier, un grand sourire et une forte envie de me plonger dans cette ville fascinante.

Je ne pouvais pas en croire mes yeux quand j’ai vu mon premier autobus à impériale rouge en vraie. J’avais le sens du déjà-vu comme il y avait souvent des photos de ces bus iconiques dans les pages de nos textes d’anglais.

Une heure plus tard, je me promenais toujours. Loin de mes responsabilités, je me sentais plus légère et j’avais l’impression d’être libre. Dans une sorte de rêverie, je me suis perdue un peu alors quand j’ai vu une librairie absolument charmante, j’ai décidé d’y entrer pour demander mon chemin. Je ne le savais pas à l’époque mais cette décision aller changer ma vie. 

“Could you attach your seatbelt, please, madam. We are going to land at Heathrow soon.” The air hostess smiled kindly and continued along the aisle doing her security checks.

I looked at Anouk, who was staring at the clouds through the window.

“Mum, are we going to be able to see the Queen’s house from here?” she asked me. She seemed serious.

“It’s a bit bigger than a house, darling,” I said to her “but we never know. In fact, tomorrow we’re going to see her house from closer up when Aunty Amina shows us the tourist sights of London.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes round. “I hope we see her.”

“We’ll see, little one,” I reassured her taking her hand for the landing.

Three hours later we arrived at our hotel, close to the tube station Gloucester Road.

I was absolutely delighted to be in London for the first time. Everything seemed so charming to me, even if it was one of the biggest cities in the world. “Paris is sublime,” I said to myself, “but this city has real personality. I love it already.”

We settled into our respective hotel rooms and the plan was to have a bit of a rest before going to dinner in Covent Garden. It was 2:30pm. Anouk seemed very tired, the poor thing. I, on the other hand, was impatient to leave the hotel to explore the area. I asked Amina and Hervé to look after Anouk for an hour or two and luckily they agreed. I took my room key and I went to talk to the concierge to ask him directions to the tube station, or ‘The Underground”, as the English say.

After a bit of confusion about the pronunciation of the word “Gloucester” (I will never understand the rules of English pronunciation!) I left the hotel with a map of the area, a big smile and a strong desire dive into this fascinating city.

I could not believe my eyes when I saw my first red double-decker bus in real life. I had a feeling of déjà vu as there were often photos of these iconic buses in our English textbooks.

An hour later, I was still walking. Far from my responsibilities, I feel lighter and I felt like I was free. In a sort of dream-like state, I got a little lost so when I saw an absolutely charming bookshop, I decided to go in to ask for directions. I didn’t know it at the time, but this decision would change my life. 

Le Top 5 tips for speaking French.

I know I’m speaking a lot about my new-found love for tennis at the moment, but it’s very hard to ignore the parallels between trying to learn French and picking up a tennis racket again after a 40-year gap (and I was no Navratilova in the first place, je vous assure*).

My friend and I started hitting balls late last year and loved it so much we decided to do it more regularly in 2023. After a few sessions, though, it became clear we needed some help, so we started doing a lesson before work on a Thursday and then having a hit on a Saturday.

We dream of being able to turn up and spend the whole hour on the court, rallying back and forth to one another in a calm and competent manner. You won’t be surprised to hear that our current experience is a very long way from that. Some days we manage to hit a few shots in a row, but many, many balles de tennis* end up going straight into the net or way over the baseline at the other end. One or two have even somehow gone through a mysterious hole in my strings and hit the fence behind me, but we won’t dwell on those ones.

A very similar thing may happen to you when you try to speak French. We know that most of you are borderline fluent when under the shower or when driving, but when it comes the time to have a real conversation with another person, suddenly you find yourself afflicted with all manner of trous de mémoires*.

For beginners, this can be put down to nerves and is completely natural, but what if you’ve been doing French for a while and you still draw a blank? Or worse, find yourself heading down a rabbit hole from which there appears to be no return?

We find this usually happens because you’re trying to speak French as you do English (or your native language, whatever that may be). I really don’t enjoy saying this, but it’s simply impossible for most of us.

The average adult knows between 25 000 and 35 000 words in their mother tongue. By the end of our Absolute Beginner 1 course, you’ll know approximately 200 words, so if you extrapolate that figure, by the time you’ve completed our Intermediate Revision Course you’d know about 2 500 words. That is, you have approximately 10% of the word power in French that you do in English.

But, don’t be too déçu(e)*. You can absolutely make this work to your advantage. Over the course of the next few newsletters, I’ll be offering up my top five tips as to how to pull that off.

You’ll definitely notice there’s a running theme in all of the tips. If you remember nothing else, please learn this one par cœur*: lentement mais sûrement*.

So you know by now that my dream of lazily (and competently) rallying with my friend from either side of the net is on hold as we get to grips with the basics.

At one of our very first lessons, as Vince, our tennis coach, watched Tanya and I flail around the court trying to hit winners (which were for the great majority definitely losers), he casually mentioned the concept of the 100-point rally. Naturellement*, this stopped us in our tracks. The tennis definition of the word rally “is a sequence of back and forth shots between players” and I’m pretty sure two shots in a row is stretching the meaning of the word ‘sequence’. Vince gently suggested that the next time we had a hit together, we have as our goal to reach a 100-point rally without an error. Jaws on the floor, Tanya and I paused to consider just how gently and carefully we’d need to hit the ball if we were to get beyond 10 points in a row, let alone 100. Firstly, we’d have to move much closer to the net to reduce the margin for error. We’d have to take care to make sure the ball simply hit the strings, rather than try to erase the Dunlop logo with each whack. Lastly, we’d have to be mindful of where the other was standing to make sure the shot was easy for them to reach (needless to say our footwork is inexistant* at this point).

Every single bit of this can be applied to speaking French and another definition of the word ‘rally’ might be worth bearing in mind: to draw or call (persons) together for a common action or effort. 

Sure, when you’re approaching fluency, knock your socks off by adding flourishes and brilliant tournures de phrases*, but when you’re just  starting out, be a good partner to your interlocuteur*. That is, physically position yourself in a comfortable manner to get ready to communicate. This means: lower the shoulders, take a couple of deep breaths to centre yourself, open up your body language and look your partner in the eye.  Take another slow breath et voilà*! You’re closer to the net already.

Next, scrap the complicated English sentence you’re dying to communicate, and instead, imagine you’re about to explain that same idea to a four-year-old. How would you speak? Slowly? Carefully? Using simple language? Pausing every now and then to check they were following? Oui*? Now you’re on the path to success.

Imagine the opening question was “What are you doing today after the class?”. Instead of trying to say (to use an example from a recent class, merci* Martha!) “I’ve gotta rush home because I’ve got a guy coming to sand and reseal the deck” try this instead: “Aujourd’hui, après la classe, un homme vient à la maison. Il va travailler sur mon balcon.” Granted, not textbook perfect French, but you’ve got your message across, probably in a slow and deliberate manner but also hopefully (and this is by far the most important bit) in a way that is easily comprehensible.

Finally, be kind to your speaking partner, particularly if they’re not quite as advanced as you. This goes back to the four-year-old idea. Be sure to choose simple words and phrases you think your French-speaking buddy will understand. Don’t deny them the incredible pleasure of understanding a couple of simple sentences in a French they’re likely to be familiar with. You know the feeling yourself, so be sure to share it around as much as you can.

I really hope this advice doesn’t come across as patronising as it is sûrement* not my intent. You know how to communicate extremely well in your mother tongues, quite likely a great deal better than me. What I notice, though, is that in our excitement (anxiety?) to speak French, we sometimes forget the basics. It is my strong belief that if you can adopt this approach the next time you have a go at speaking, you’ll see more smiles than frowns, and that goes for your classroom potes* and ‘real’ French people as well.

Next month: walk before you can run.

Bon courage*!

*I assure you | *tennis balls | *memory lapses | *disappointed | *by heart | *slowly but surely | *Naturally | *non-existent | *turns of phrase | *fellow speaker | *there you go | *Yes | *thank you | *Today, after the class, a man is coming to the house. He is going to work on my balcony. | *surely | *mates | *Good luck

Rabbit holes and jumbo tennis balls

In the last How to Learn French post, we talked about les hauts et les bas* of being a beginner learner. I mentioned that when students sign up for their first French course, they’re usually brimming with excitement and just busting to start speaking French.

Unfortunately, that initial brio is often quickly replaced with something nearing despair as they realise the enormity of the task ahead. I’ve spoken about how that happened to me only very recently with learning Sanskrit. On a side note - I’ve had four weeks off due to a term break and guess who’s done about two hours of the 20 she planned? I have, though, managed to draw myself up a cheat sheet so at least I know what I don’t know (and I’m counting that as a win).

So, what to do when, after getting a handle on the groundwork, you’re ready to launch into actually speaking? This will likely happen to you a few times along your learning adventure. Here at Lingua Franca, we encourage you to do our Speaking Practice Courses right from Absolute Beginner 1, and it’s usually around the Absolute Beginner Revision mark that you’ll get your first soupçon* of desire to speak. Once you’ve got the present tense sur le bout des doigts*, you’ll probably be drawn to making your own simple sentences.

When you do, you’ll soon realise how great it would be to be able to tell someone what you did yesterday and what you’re going to do tomorrow. You can still say quite a lot without knowing those tenses, but roll on Beginner Revision…

Then, by the time you reach Intermediate Revision, usually in about your third year, you’ll be impatient to start speaking up, and rightly so. You’ve diligently learned several tenses as well as un tas de* vocab, you’ve got the numbers under your belt and have a pretty good handle on the pronunciation. You’re probably looking for a reward for all that hard work and your fervent hope is that when you do open your mouth the words will flow out as easily as they do from the ball of your pen.

Mais, non*!

How many times have we heard this refrain from our Chouchous*? It’s a lament I know well personally, having expressed it about my own French many, many times. Préparez-vous*, it’s a question you’ll ask yourself more than once throughout your French learning career, but it seems to be at its most piquante* when you know a lot in theory, but seem unable to let the words coulent*.

I remember in Year 12, just as we were nearing our final exams, our French teacher was particularly pleased with our performance one day. She said: “Félicitations, la classe*! You’re now able to speak at the level of an eight-year-old!”. While she smiled at us beatifically, we let out huge (and let’s face it, dramatic) sighs of disappointment. I’ll never forget it. All that work to be able to speak like a virtual bébé*? You’ve got to be kidding!

I’ve reflected a lot on that moment in the years hence, and have come to realise that Mlle MacPherson was paying us a sincere compliment. Though at 16 the thought of speaking like an eight-year-old was frankly insulting, when you think about how much an eight-year-old is able to say, most French learners would be delighted to have that level of fluency.

So, how to set yourself up for succès* as you take your first steps?

As frustrating as the advice to take it ‘slowly but surely’ may sound, it really will set you off on le bon chemin*.

Leaping out of the gates at full galop* might feel great for the first few words (which you’ve likely prepared ahead of time in your head), but a sentence or two later, you might feel yourself barrelling full speed into a rabbit hole from which it’s hard to escape. Trying to express yourself as you do in your native language, with the vocabulary, fluency and dexterity built up over a lifetime will ensure you spend more time underground than above it. It amounts to trying to run before you can walk, and from recent experience I can tell you this is probably not the way to build confidence, which will account for about 80% of your success.

Last month, I promised you a story about a jumbo tennis ball, so here it comes.

In a year of new things for me, I’ve recently taken up tennis. While my friend and I were keen to get on the court and rip a few backhands down the line at our first lesson, our teacher insisted we start by standing on either side of the net and throwing (carefully and very gently) an oversized pink tennis ball to one another. Oh, la honte*! This action apparently mimics the elements of a solid backhand and laid the groundwork for us graduating to our first strokes with a regular-sized ball later in the hour. 

This applies to your French as well. Freezing up mid-sentence because you don’t know the word for ‘four-wheel drive’, for example, is the equivalent of me trying to pull a drop shot on my opponent when I can’t even be sure I’ll make contact. Could you use the word for ‘car’ instead? How important to your story is it that your audience know you’re talking about a specific type of vehicle? Remember, the goal is to communicate. In order to get your message across, you may need to simplify the message itself. My bet is it won’t overly impact your story and the most important thing is that by choosing a word you know instead (voiture*), you’ll likely get to the next word and the next and the next, and before you know it, you’ll being having yourself a real-life conversation.

Next month, more tennis analogies* await, as we consider the concept of the 100-point rally. À la prochaine*!

*the highs and lows | *hint | *down pat | *a heap of | *but no | *my mouth | *Teacher’s Pets | *Get ready | *pointed | *flow | *Congratulations, class | *baby | *success | *Slowly but surely | *the right path | *gallop | *Oh, the shame of it! | *car | *analogies | *Until the next time

The happy medium

I have found it absolutely fascinating to watch the progress of our students over the years, particularly when it comes to speaking French.

I have seen hundreds follow more or less the same path and it is only now that I am learning a couple of new skills myself that I think I’m able to see clairement.*

Teaching absolute beginners is a real rush because they’re so excited about the language. Everything is new to them and if French is a treasure chest, they’re just dying to crack the lid. There’s nothing quite like the energy of teaching them their very first list of greetings, which at Lingua Franca (and no doubt many schools around the world) takes place in the first 15 minutes of Lesson 1. It’s delightful to see adults play around with the language, testing out the new sounds, finally seeing words in print that, prior to that moment, may have simply been absorbed by osmosis (s’il vous plaît* springs to mind, as well as monsieur*). Watching the spark of recognition as they make the links between the French and the English is particularly gratifying.

This high energy usually lasts until Lesson 4, which is when we learn to conjugate our first verb. These days, I know to warn the tutors that at the end of that lesson, their students will most likely leave the classroom with their shoulders down and frowns on their fronts*. As a tutor, it’s hard not to feel like a bit of a failure at that moment, especially since the previous three weeks have usually been so much fun. I imagine it’s a bit like being a parent in that sometimes you have to deliver hard truths for the good of your child. It must fait vibrer la corde sensible* to see them crestfallen, but you know it’s only temporary and is truly for their long-term benefit. I now view lesson number four as a very important piece of the puzzle. 

Not only do students need to know how to conjugate regular -re verbs if they ever want to speak French well, it’s also important that they know fairly early on in the piece that French is not a cake walk. Learning a language is similar to learning to play an instrument. I’m sure someone could teach me how to pluck out a tune on a guitar in a few hours, just as we could arm a student with a few rote phrases to help them navigate an upcoming trip. Sometimes, that style of learning is absolutely appropriate for the occasion. However, if your goal is to achieve some level of mastery, it makes sense that one has to put the hard yards in. 

Lesson 4 seems to be when the enormity of the scale of the language first hits. The exact same thing has just happened to me with my Sanskrit lessons. The first week I was just dying to try out all the new sounds and mesmerised by difference of the script. As I mentioned last month, though, just a few short lessons later, I felt I was drowning as I came to see just how much work I was going to have to do to even be able to get a simple sentence out of my mouth. I think this is the exact point where many of our students lose their nerve to speak and instead retreat into the theory in an attempt to just get things straight! I know I did for a bit.

A mentor of mine commented recently that she notices I delve into detail when I want to regain control of a situation. As soon as she said it I knew she was right. When the vast scope of Sanskrit hit me for the first time,  my instinctive reaction was: “Right, I just need some time alone to get this information in order”. Actually, that’s not entirely true, my first thought was “What the hell have I done?”, but after I gathered myself, my next instinct was to grab an A3 sheet of paper so I could start mapping out what I’d learned. 

I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing. Of course, ideally, you’d be able to continue to exercise your vocal skills at the same time as you’re putting all of your theoretical canards* in a row, but this is not always the reality. Like Lingua Franca courses, my Sanskrit lessons give me ample opportunity to work on my speaking skills at the same time as I tackle the theory. When I felt that I really needed to get to grips with the basics, though, that sort of practice went out the fenêtre* for a time and this is not the end of the world. 

In the very next lesson, I was able to recognise most of the character symbols in the alphabet, so that felt like a win. Meanwhile, my nascent Sanskrit accent had gone to custard. It seems I was concentrating so hard on the academic side of things that I’d left no room for any flourish. Again, that is fine. The point is that I was further along the bumpy path than I was a week before that.

I was heartened to be able to recognise that. In the past, I would have given the floor to my inner critic who would have berated me for not getting it all perfect out of the blocks. By the way, if you too have this little voice that sits on your shoulder at lessons or keeps you company when you do your homework, maybe it’s best to tell it to take a seat and just let you get on with it. It’s hard enough as it is without unsolicited criticism coming from the cheap seats.

So if you’ve cracked the lid of the treasure chest and brushed away the top layer of gold coins only to reveal the mass of tarnished trove below, ne te décourage pas. The chest is lined with gold and idling in the juste milieu for a bit is time well spent. Shoring up your connaissances* will never be wasted, as you’ll see when your desire to speak returns (and it will, c’est promis*).

Next month: how a jumbo tennis ball, a rabbit hole and a bit of forward thinking can set you on the path to speaking success.

*clearly | *The treasure chest | *please | *sir | *Hitting rock bottom | *foreheads | *tugs at the heartstrings | *the happy medium | *ducks | *window | *don’t be discouraged | *knowledge | *I promise

Sometimes simple is best.

As some of you know, I started learning French il y a très longtemps*. If my calculations are correct, I learned my first words of French in 1983 as a Year 6 student so that makes it a neat forty years ago.

For the first few years, we didn’t seem to advance much beyond basic greetings, colours, saying how old we were and the numbers. It almost seemed as though we started over every year and progressed very little. This didn’t bother us at all as we were just having fun with the language at that point, as well as devouring the pretend pains au chocolats* our Year 9 teacher would bring in which consisted of Furry Friends squished between two bits of Tip Top Bread. Miam*!

It wasn’t until Year 10 that things became a little more serious, and by Year 11 and 12 we were in the thick of it. I can picture (and I reckon Mum could still find) the reams and reams of foolscap A4 paper covered in verb conjugations in my Kilometrico-blue script. I have always loved French so the laboriousness of the task didn’t put me off. I’d just write the verbs out over and over and I ended up knowing them pretty well. Strangely, I cannot visualise an equal stack of pages covered in algebra equations.

So, in recent years when new students ask “How am I ever going to remember these verb conjugations?” my instinct is to tell them to write them out over and over as I did. I often second-guess myself, though, since my technique literally dates from the last century, when applications were something you filled out, not something you télécharge*. If the student is around my age or older, I’ll be honest and say that I don’t know of a better way than learning them rote. However, when younger people ask, I sometimes feel embarrassed I don’t have a more tech-based conseil* to give. Surely, I think to myself, memorisation techniques must have developed in the four decades since I opened my lever-arch file to pull out a fresh sheet?

In an effort to appear more early-adopter than flat-earther, occasionally I’ll recommend the app Quizlet, a great website that allows you to make digital flashcards for free.  Mais*, old-timer that I am, I add the caveat that students should create their own digital pack rather than just accessing someone else’s, as I believe a great deal of retention comes in the act of writing out the conjugations. I’m also a believer that if something costs you a bit of effort, you’re more likely to feel some ownership (voire* pride) and therefore more likely to use it.

Even as I’m offering this advice, though, I really want to just say “Write them out!”. To me, it’s so quick and easy to grab a pen and paper and just hop into it. Easy, that is, until you actually have to do it…

I have recently started studying Sanskrit and as you may know, it uses a special (and quite decorative) script instead of the Roman letters used by French, English and many other languages. 

In Term 1, our focus is to learn the alphabet and its sounds. It’s a twelve-week course. At Lingua Franca, we cover the French alphabet in one lesson, so I could see I had some work ahead of me.

Like the Chouchou* I aspire to be, I read the course materials before my first lesson and felt bien préparée* as I met my teacher and classmates for the first time. About halfway into the hour, though, the challenge in learning a brand new script became very clear. I made a promise to myself to devote Saturday afternoons to it until I had it nailed. I truly thought it’d take one samedi après-midi* and I’d be done, ready to be a total know-it-all by lesson two. Je suis très naïve*, it turns out.

For various reasons, my first whole Saturday afternoon turned out to be a grand total of 40 minutes by the pool. By the end of it I was confident with seven of the 49 characters and could (almost) recognise another six. “Pas de problème*,” I told myself, “the lesson isn’t until Thursday evening. You’ve got plenty of time.”

Needless to say I didn’t perform terribly well in that class, which didn’t bother me particularly, though I did have to laugh when I noticed I was exhibiting the behaviours we see in our own classes here at Lingua Franca from time to time: avoiding eye contact with the tutor and working out which question she was going to ask me and preparing that instead of listening to what was going on in the moment. Some of you know the drill, I suspect.

So while not being the star of the class was not bothering me, I didn’t like seeing what my lack of preparation was doing for my enjoyment of the language. I was so keen to unlock the doors between the characters, the sounds and their meanings, but I couldn’t do it as I hadn’t mastered the alphabet yet. I felt like I was falling behind. A couple of my new classmates were exclaiming how beautiful the language was and I just couldn’t see it. Worse, I knew that I wasn’t putting myself in a position to be able to make an informed decision as to whether I even liked my new hobby or not. 

At the end of the lesson, the tutor set our homework, which seemed a bit overwhelming but I vowed to do it to get myself back on le bon chemin*.

Despite my resolve to do better, I knew I had a busy week coming up. Luckily, I mentioned my dilemma to one of my classes and I noticed one of the student’s eyes light up. Edith stayed behind as everyone else filed out of the room, and then enthusiastically told me how she prepared for her vet science exams. Guess what her conseil was? Rote learning of course. She told me to write the characters out over and over again, in groups first, marking them as I went. Those that I hadn’t mastered she suggested I regroup and go over as many times as necessary to commit them to memory. Then, once I believed I’d mastered them, to throw them back into the mix and go again. Over and over and over until it worked.

I was relieved. Even though she’d done her undergraduate degree some moons ago, it was clear she was a lifelong learner, and had chosen these techniques even when brighter, shinier techniques were available. 

She also suggested tackling the learning first thing in the morning, before my day got underway. “Do it every couple of days in bed with a coffee when the world is still quiet. It doesn’t have to take too long.” I admit, this sounded a lot more appealing than devoting an entire Saturday afternoon to the task.

Again, though, I had to roll my eyes at myself. We regularly tell our students to do a little bit often rather than a big session on the eve of their lesson. Why wasn’t I listening to my own advice?

Easier to take Edith’s advice, it seemed, and I tried this technique in the days that followed. The first morning, I ended up with only 10 minutes to spare but rather than put it off, I decided to at least get my homework in my hands and just have a look at the scope of what I had to do. From the course materials, I isolated my reference points and matched that with the homework sheets. That act alone was enough to get me excited again about the challenge before me and as I write this, I only have three or four characters that remain stubbornly out of my grasp. I can also report that my second lesson was an entirely different experience. Though still difficult, I could at least follow along with the class, making mistakes, getting a few right and thoroughly enjoying myself.

Most importantly, my encounter with this ancient language that is brand new to me delivered a powerful lesson in empathy. I know I’m probably preaching to the converted, but learning a language is not easy. Let’s go easy on ourselves and just chip away at it together. I’m pretty sure it’s the key to unlocking the door between frustration and joy.

*a long time ago | *chocolate croissants | *Yum! | *download | *piece of advice | *but | *indeed | *Teacher’s Pet | *well-prepared | *Saturday afternoon | *I am very naive | *No problem | *the right track

La Petite Histoire

If you've ever done a group lesson here at Lingua Franca, you've probably come into contact with La Petite Histoire*. A tale with the very humblest of beginnings, it winds up becoming a rollicking schlockbuster as you move up the levels and your French improves enough to handle the outrageous (some would say impossible) turns of events of the six young friends.

La Petite Histoire is currently only available to our students, however La Préquelle is for everyone’s enjoyment. Below, another instalment of this new series, Chapter 1 of the Intermediate 3 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

- “Merci, vous deux, pour cette soirée très agréable,” a dit Noëlle alors que nous sortions du restaurant.

- “Merci à toi, Noëlle, oui je suis d’accord, c’était super,” a dit Jean-Louis. “Est-ce qu’on peut te ramener ?”

-“Non, ça va merci, j’ai ma voiture,” a répondu Noëlle.

-“Tu es venue en métro, tu m’as dit. Tu as oublié ? Trop de vin ce soir, Noëlle ?” ai-je taquiné.

-“Ben non, c’est juste que…” Noëlle a arrêté de parler et elle a rougi.

Jean-Louis a commencé a dire quelque chose, mais Noëlle lui a coupé la parole.

-“Non, en fait, j’ai laissé ma voiture près du métro Mabillon quand j’ai su pour la manifestation.”

- “Mais…” ai-je commencé à protester, mais mon mari a dit soudainement :
- “Bon, on y va ? Je dois me lever tôt demain.”

J’étais confuse, mais nous nous sommes dit au revoir et nous sommes partis.

Dans la voiture, j’ai dit :
- “C’est super de sortir le soir de temps en temps, Jean-Louis. J’aime bien passer du temps avec toi, sans les enfants. On peut faire ça plus souvent ?”

-“Oui, je suis d’accord. On peut inviter Noëlle aussi”, a-t-il répondu en regardant la route.

-“Oh…Oui, je suppose”, ai-je dit, un peu déçue.

Jean-Louis m’a regardée, et il a dit :
- “Eh bien, elle est un peu seule, Noëlle, non ? Elle n’a pas de famille ici comme nous. On devrait l’inviter parfois, je pense.”

- “Elle n’est pas aussi seule que ça !” ai-je répondu.

- “Que veux-tu dire ?” a dit Jean-Louis.

- “Ben, elle a déjà un nouvel amoureux.”

- “Leïla, arrête les ragots. C’est ton amie ! Ce n’est pas très gentil.” a répondu Jean-Louis fermement.

J’étais un peu choquée, je dois dire. Mon mari est en train de défendre Noëlle ?

- “Tu la défends, Jean-Louis ?” ai-je dit. “J’ai cru que tu ne l’aimais pas. Tu as changé d’avis ? Est-ce que c’est son charme australien ? Je pense que tu as dit qu’elle n’était pas sincère.”

Alors que nous arrivions dans notre rue, Jean-Louis a coupé le moteur et regardait droit devant lui.

- “Je n’ai jamais dit ça, Leïla. Je suppose que je ne la connaissais pas très bien. Allons, ça suffit ! Je ne veux pas passer la nuit devant notre appartement à parler de ton amie.”

Jean-Louis n’avait pas l’air très heureux.

- “Tu es fatigué, mon amour ?” ai-je demandé.

Parfois Jean-Louis était un peu susceptible.

- “Oui, ça doit être ça. Je suis désolé, chérie. Je t’aime, tu le sais ?” a-t-il dit en sortant de la voiture. Il a pris ma main. “Viens, on va se coucher”.

“Thanks you both for a lovely evening,” said Noëlle as we left the restaurant.“Thanks to you, Noëlle, I agree, it was great,” said JL” Can you we give you a lift?”

“No, that’s fine, thanks, I’ve got my car,” Noelle responded.

“You came by metro, you told me. Have you forgotten? Too much wine tonight, Noelle?” I teased.

“No, no, it’s just that…” Noelle stopped talking and she blushed.

Jean-Louis started to say something but Noelle cut him off.

“No, in fact, I left my car close to the Mabillon metro station when I heard about the demonstration.”

“But - “ I started to protest but my husband suddenly said: “Right, are we going? I have to get up early tomorrow.”

I was confused but we said goodbye and we left.

In the car, I said: “It’s great to go out at night from time to time, Jean-Louis. I like spending time with you without the children.”

“Yes, I agree. We can invite Noelle as well,” he responded, watching the road.

“Oh. Yes I suppose,” I said, a little disappointed.

Jean-Louis looked at me and he said: “Well, she’s a bit lonely, Noëlle, don’t you think? She doesn’t have family here like us. We should invite her sometimes, I think.”

“She’s not that lonely”, I said.

“What do you mean?” said Jean-Louis.

“Well, she’s already got a new love interest.”

“Leïla, stop with the gossiping. She’s your friend. It’s not very nice. responded Jean-Louis firmly.

I was a bit shocked I have to say. My husband was defending Noëlle?

“Are you defending her, Jean-Louis?” I said. “I thought you didn’t like her. Have you changed your mind? It is her Australian charm? I thought you said that she wasn’t very genuine.”

As we arrived in our street, Jean-Louis turned off the motor and looked straight ahead of him.

“I never said that Leila. I suppose that I didn’t know her very well. Come on, that’s enough. I don’t want to spend the night in front of our apartment talking about your friend.”

Jean-Louis didn’t seem very happy.

“Are you tired, my love, I asked? Sometimes Jean-Louis was a bit touchy.

“Yes, it must be that. I’m sorry darling. I love you, you do know that?” he said as we got out of the car. He took my hand.  “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Work out what you love

We all have moments along our French adventure where we toy with throwing it all in.

Obviously, as the owner of a French school it’s not in my interests to encourage people to follow through on this feeling and many times we just have to hang in there by a hair for the motivation (or favourable circumstances) to return. However, I do truly believe that if it’s not your thing, it’s best to let it go in favour of finding an activity that really lights you up. La vie est courte*, after all.

But what if you don’t know what it is you truly love? I consider myself very lucky in that I discovered French at the age of 11. What kills me is that I didn’t consider it as a viable career path until the age of 36, when I found myself crying on my birthday thinking “how did I muck my life up so badly?”. Nothing like a crisis to light a fire under us, that’s for sure.

Not everyone wants to turn their passion into their livelihood of course. Many people actually prefer to contain their loisirs* to their private time. But what if you’ve never truly discovered an interest qui te passionne*?

It might be time to consider these questions.

Were you more outdoorsy or did you prefer quiet time indoors? Did you read a lot? Or were you always hanging out with a gang of kids being rowdy? Did you used to love playing with Lego? Were you a dreamer? Were you dying to get into the kitchen to make something? What were you fascinated by?

Something people compliment you on, that you don’t even think of as a skill because you find it so easy? They say: ‘Gee, you’re good at that!’ and you think: ‘Can’t everyone do this?’

You know the type of thing: you start it thinking you’ll just do a little bit and a while later, you look at your watch expecting only 30 minutes to have passed, but in fact you’ve been at it for over two hours without realising.

Say you had to go to a party and you really were not in the mood.  Trying to hide, you go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and strike up a conversation with someone. You make polite chit chat, then hit on a subject you’re both passionate about. You end up spending the rest of the party in the kitchen, totally engrossed in this conversation. It’s like you can’t get the words out fast enough and you leave thinking: ‘What a great party!” What would be the subject you’d most likely be talking about?

This is not necessarily the answer, but it may give you an insight into what you truly enjoyed before societal expectations were placed on you.

Spend a few minutes daydreaming about this. Remember, in this scenario, you’re so set up you don’t have to give any thought to what makes money, what’s socially acceptable, what’s a transferable skill. This is purely about what would make you feel good. Then ask yourself why.

I didn’t have this list when I had my mid-thirties crise*, though I wish I did. Had I had access to this list, my answers would have looked a lot like this:

1. People from other cultures and travel
2. Languages
3. French
4. Languages and travel
5. A teacher (mostly for access to that stationery cupboard)
6. Learn more languages, travel.

So as you can see, I’m a pretty one-dimensional person. I do have other interests, but nothing really puts a fire in my belly like people, languages and travel. I could bore you for hours on the subject of just how much my life has changed for the better since I stopped caring what people thought and just decided to do what I loved. 

If you haven’t yet found ton truc, I sincerely hope you start the search. The great news is, it’s a search you can do from wherever you find yourself. Just take some time to gently ponder the questions ci-dessus*. And when you do find ta came*, chase it down like a person possessed. You'll never look back.

Of course, if you already know that French is your jam, félicitations*! You're in the right place.

 

*Life is short |* past-times | *that you’re passionate about | *crisis | *your thing | above | your jam | congratulations

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