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

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 2 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

Je suis sortie du métro Odéon et cinq minutes plus tard, je suis arrivée au restaurant. J’étais à l’heure. Le maître d’hôtel s’est approché de moi.

“Bonsoir, madame,” il a dit. “Bienvenue.”

“Bonsoir, monsieur. J’ai une reservation pour trois personnes au nom de Toledano.”

“Certainement, Madame Toledano. Vous êtes là en premier.”


“Oui, mon amie va arriver bientôt et mon mari va nous rejoindre plus tard.”

“Très bien, madame. Benoît, s’il vous plaît ! Madame Toledano.”

En suivant le serveur à notre table, je pouvais apprécier le décor du restaurant. Au cœur de Saint-Germain des Prés dans le 6ème arrondissement, Le Procope est le plus ancien restaurant à Paris, et un des plus élégants. Avec un grand escalier, de beaux lustres, des nappes blanches et une ambiance calme et raffinée, j’avais l’impression de me retrouver dans un autre siècle.

J’ai décidé de faire une réservation quand j’ai entendu les nouvelles de Roger que c’était fini avec Noëlle. Même si Noëlle sortait avec un nouvel homme, j’étais sûre qu’elle était un peu triste. Ce n’est jamais facile quand une relation amoureuse se termine, donc je voulais lui remonter le moral. En regardant autour de restaurant, j’étais bien heureuse de mon choix. Noëlle allait adorer ce restaurant typiquement français. J’étais sûre qu’il n’y avait pas ces types de lieux en Australie.

Quinze minutes plus tard, Noëlle est arrivée. “Je suis désolée, Leïla ! Mon métro était en retard à cause d’une manifestation.”

“Une manifestation à 20h du soir ? C’est étrange !” j’ai remarqué.

“Ah, je ne sais pas, Leïla. Peut-être que je n’ai pas compris l’annonce. Le français n’est pas ma première langue, d’après tout. Bon, qu’est-ce qu’on va prendre comme apéritif ?” elle a demandé, en changeant le sujet.

“Une coupe de champagne ?” j’ai proposé.

“Ou bien un petit crémant ?” a dit Noëlle, “C’est moins cher. Malheureusement, je n’ai pas de mari riche comme toi,” elle a rigolé.

J’ai rigolé aussi. C’était très agréable d’être dans un restaurant avec ma copine au lieu d’être à la maison avec des enfants, en préparant le dîner et en faisant la vaisselle après. J’ai laissé ça à ma belle-sœur, Amina, ce soir.

“Noëlle, c’est moi qui vous invite ce soir. J’insiste.”

“C’est gentil Leïla et j’accepte avec plaisir. Deux coupes de champagne, alors, monsieur. Merci.”

“Je vous en prie, mesdames,” il a dit.

Quelques minutes plus tard, le serveur est retourné avec nos apéritifs.

“Voilà, mesdames. Deux coupes de champagne et des gougères salées en accompagnement.”

“Merci, monsieur,” nous avons dit, en même temps.

“Santé, Noëlle !” j’ai dit en levant ma flûte.

“Santé, Leïla !” elle a répondu. “À l’amour !”

I exited the Odéon metro and five minutes later, I arrived at the restaurant. I was on time. The maître d’ approached me.

“Good evening, madam,” he said. “Welcome.”

“Good evening, sir. I have a reservation for three people in the name of Toledano.”

“Certainly, Mrs Toledano. You’re the first to arrive.”

“Yes, my friend is going to arrive soon and my husband is going to join us later.”

“Very well, madam. Benoît, please! Mrs Toledano.”

In following the waiter to our table, I was able to appreciate the restaurant’s decor. In the heart of the Saint-Germain des Prés in the 6th arrondissement, Le Procope is the oldest restaurant in Paris, and one of the most elegant. With a grand staircase, beautiful chandeliers, white tablecloths and a calm and refined ambiance, I felt as though I’d found myself in anther century.

I decided to make a reservation when I heard the news from Roger that it was finished with Noëlle. Even if Noëlle was going out with a new man, I was sure that she was a little sad. It’s never easy when a romantic relationship ends, so I wanted to cheer her up. In looking around the restaurant, I was really happy with my choice. Noëlle was going to adore this typically French restaurant. I was sure there weren’t these types of places in Australia.

Fifteen minutes later, Noëlle arrived. “I’m sorry, Leïla!” My metro was late because of a demonstration.”

“A demonstration at 8 o’clock at night ? That’s strange!” I remarked.

“Oh, I don’t know, Leïla. Maybe I didn’t understand the announcement. French is not my first language, after all. Right, what are we going to have as a pre-dinner drink?” she asked, changing the subject.

“A glass of champagne?” I suggested.

“Or even a little sparkling wine?” said Noëlle. “It’s less expensive. Unfortunately, I don’t have a rich husband like you,” she laughed.

I laughed too. It was really nice to be in a restaurant with my girlfriend instead of at home with the children, preparing dinner and doing the washing up afterwards. I left that to my sister-in-law, Amina, tonight. “Noëlle, it’s my treat tonight. I insist.”

“That’s kind of you Leila and I accept with pleasure. Two glasses of champagne, then, sir. Thank you.”

Several minutes later, the waiter returned with our pre-dinner drinks.

“Here we go, ladies. Two glasses of champagne and some savoury puffs as an accompaniment.”

“Thank you, sir,” we said, at the same time.

“Cheers, Noëlle!” I said as I raised my glass.

“Cheers, Leïla!” she response. “To love!”

Stop trying so hard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hate to admit it, but he was right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Interesting French word: chanter en yaourt

While it might sound like a kind of vocal training best avoided by the lactose intolerant, this amusing French phrase has zero to do with dairy. And we’re betting you’ve even done it yourself – possibly during a trip to France. 

Literally translated as ‘singing in yoghurt’, chanter en yaourt means fudging your way through song lyrics using gibberish and, most likely, bravado.

According to Wikipedia, it’s “une technique qui consiste à chanter en produisant des sons, des onomatopées, des syllabes qui font penser qu'il s'agit d'une langue réelle.” (Traduction*: a technique that consists of singing while producing sounds, onomatopoeias, syllables that make people think that it is a real language.)

The term can apply to any ‘fake singing’ but most often refers to attempting to sing in another language. Why not give it a go next time les paroles* escape you?

*translation | *the song lyrics

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 4 of the Intermediate 2 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

Quelques jours plus tard, j’étais dans une petite boulangerie près de l’université quand j’ai vu Roger.

“Coucou Roger, comment vas-tu ?” j’ai demandé. 



“Ah Leïla, super de te voir ! Tu vas bien ?” il a répondu.

“Oui, ça va merci. Je ne t’ai pas vu récemment. Tout va bien ?”



“Tu ne sais pas, Leïla ?” il a demandé. Il avait l’air triste, j’ai noté. “C’est fini entre Noëlle et moi. Elle n’a rien dit ?”



Choquée, j’ai répondu que non.



“Oui,” Roger a continué, “elle a rencontré quelqu’un d’autre.”



“Ah, non, Roger,” j’ai dit, “Je suis désolée, je ne savais pas.”

C’était étrange. Pourquoi Noëlle ne m’a pas dit ?



“Apparemment ils se sont rencontrés il y a quelques semaines et elle est tombée amoureuse tout de suite. Elle a dit qu’il est différent des autres.”



“Différent comment ?” j’ai demandé. J’étais curieuse, je dois admettre.



“Il n’est pas français, ça je sais,” Roger a dit. ‘Elle a dit qu’elle aime ça, qu’elle préfère sortir avec un étranger. C’est plus exotique, apparemment.”

“Ah bon? Je me demande qui c’est ?” J’étais surprise par ma réaction. Je ne sais pas pourquoi mais j’avais peur qu’elle soit tombée amoureuse de Simon, mon professeur d’anglais. C’est vrai que Noëlle a flirté avec lui quand nous étions au café ensemble. Je me sentais un peu jalouse pour être honnête qui est ridicule parce que je suis mariée !



“Je ne sais pas, Leïla. Bon, désolé, mais je dois partir. J’ai un cours dans 10 minutes, donc je dois me dépêcher. Super de te voir et à bientôt, j’espère.”



“Toi aussi, Roger, et encore une fois, désolée. Je suis sûre que tu vas trouver quelqu’un d’autre bientôt.”



“Tu es toujours mariée, Leïla?” il a demandé, avec un grand sourire.

“Au revoir, Roger,” j’ai dit. Il ne change jamais, j’ai pensé, et je suis allée à la caisse pour payer. Les hommes !

A few days later, I was in a little bakery close to the university when I saw Roger.

"Hi there Roger, how are you going?" I asked.

"Oh Leïla, great to see you! Are you going well?" he responded.

“Yes, I’m okay thanks. I haven’t seen you recently. Is everything going well?”

“You don’t know, Leïla?” he asked. He seemed sad, I noticed. “It’s finished between Noëlle and me. She didn’t say anything?”

Shocked, I replied no.

“Yes,” Roger continued. “She met someone else.”

“Oh no, Roger,” I said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” It was strange. Why didn’t Noëlle tell me?

“Apparently they met a few weeks ago and she fell in love straight away. She said he’s different to the others.

“Different how?“ I asked. I was curious, I have to admit.

“He’s not French, that I know,” Roger said. “She said that she likes that, that she prefers going out with a foreigner. It’s more exotic, apparently.”

“Oh really? I wonder who it is?” I was surprised by my reaction. I don’t know why but I was scared she had fallen in love with Simon, my English professor. It’s true that Noëlle had flirted with him when we were at the café together. I was feeling a bit jealous to be honest which is ridiculous because I’m married!

“I don’t know, Leïla. Right, sorry, but I have to leave. I have a lesson in 10 minutes, so I have to hurry. Great to see you and see you soon, I hope.”

“You, too, Roger, and once again, sorry. I am sure you’re going to find someone else soon.”

“Are you still married, Leïla?” he asked, with a big smile.

“Goodbye, Roger,” I said. He never changes, I thought, and I went to the cash register to pay. Men!

Fake it till you make it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A rounded approach

Last month we spoke about stealing taking inspiration from your fellow French learners as a way of maintaining your motivation and ensuring your progrès*.

One of the privileges of being a tutor is being able to observe the different ways our students approach their French learning. We have ringside seats to their methods and this is particularly evident when we teach people one-on-one.

It was during a recent private lesson with a very long-term client (Janelle) that our talk turned to that all-too-common feeling of overwhelm. Almost all of us experience it at the very début* and that’s to be expected, given the sheer volume of new concepts you’re being exposed to. However, even after you’ve gotten over the shock of learning (literally) a new language, it still crops up and seemingly comes from nowhere. It’s la peur*, or worse, la certitude* even, that you’re never, ever going to be able to get a handle on this language that you love so much.

It still happens to me from time to time, most recently yesterday, in fact, when I was in the online forum of my favourite dictionary (who says I’m not fun?). I was reading an exchange between two senior members and I had no clue what they were talking about. More distressing was the way they were volleying ideas back and forth to one another, as though anyone with half a cerveau* would not only have been able to follow along, but likely to add son grain de sel* at any second. It makes me feel like I’m being left out of a club I really, really want to belong to.

I’ve observed this in myself and others for many years now and have come to the conclusion that this feeling of overwhelm crops up in the cruelest of ways. It is often precipitated by a mini-breakthrough, which is when you should be feeling really great about your French. When a concept you’ve been grappling with finally becomes a little clearer, you’d expect a moment of satisfaction, but more often than not what follows is a sense of helplessness. It’s at this point we often hear our students exclaim in frustration: “When am I ever going to understand this language?”

It’s like you’re on descent in a plane, travelling to a new destination and the clouds part just enough for you to get your first glimpse of the beauty of the ground below. It can be thrilling. Then the pilot descends some more and you’re through the clouds and all of a sudden the vastness of the terrain is laid out before you. It can feel overwhelming and the idea of conquering it impossible. Your conscious competence is cruelly ripped from your grasp as your eyes open to all the other things you’ve not yet mastered, where seconds before you didn’t even know they existed. Moins on en sait, mieux on se porte*, for a time, at least.

Enter Janelle and her idea of the concentric circles of learning.

Most people I speak to consider language acquisition to be linear, much like a running race. You start at one end, and the idea is to get to the finish line in as quick a time as possible without tripping, let alone breaking a leg. We’ve talked before about the freedom to be found in dispensing with the very idea of there even being a finishing line, but Janelle’s idea is different once again. And as she explained it to me, I could sense how liberating it could be.

Janelle visualises her learning as a series of circles, starting very small in the middle, and increasing in diameter the further out she goes. For her, the smallest circle in the middle represents her knowledge at the very start of her French adventure.

At the time, she’d probably learned some greetings, the numbers 0-100, some basic vocabulary and perhaps the alphabet. Everything was new to her and likely felt both uncomfortable and exciting, but a few lessons later, those concepts started to settle. She was then able to look beyond her first little circle, and at least countenance the idea of adding some new words to her vocabulary or perhaps learning a new verb or two.

Over the years, the cycle has repeated itself over and over, and Janelle’s circles have grown larger and larger. Of course the best laid schemes o' mice an' men meant that she couldn’t avoid concepts from the outer circles occasionally infiltrating her current sphere.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed, though, she could simply tell herself that it had come from an outer circle for which she was not yet ready, and could continue on with her learning. It is not that she completely ignored the concept, it was that she knew to where park it in order to be able to deal with it when her brain was ready for more.

I love Janelle’s idea as it feels more expansive and organic that the traditional route of chasing down the language until you ‘catch’ it. I can almost see the circles expanding and contracting, like a living breathing organism, with each out breath leaving the whole a little larger than before.

I also really like the thought of accepting the size of your circle and focusing your energies there, where they belong. At least for the time being. As mentioned, while you’re busy working on that circle, interlopers from the outer range will come visiting, but there is real relief in simply acknowledging them and then politely asking them to stand aside for a bit, while you get on with the business at hand.

Merci, Janelle, d’avoir partagé ton expérience avec moi. Je crois que ton idée aidera beaucoup de personnes*.

progress | start | fear | certainty | brain | his/her two cents’ worth | Ignorance is bliss | Thank you, Janelle, for having shared your experience with me. I think your idea will help a lot of people.

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 3 of the Intermediate 2 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Tu as passé une bonne journée, chérie?” a demandé Jean-Louis. “Comment va Hervé?”

J’étais dans la cuisine, en préparant le dîner pour la famille.

“Il va très bien, merci, oui. On est allé au Jardin des Tuileries pour se promener avec les enfants. C’était très chouette. Anouk a adoré voir ‘le grand château’ et les petits bateaux sur le bassin, bien sûr. Elle a décidé qu’elle veut un bateau pour Noël.”

Jean-Louis a rigolé et m’a donné un bisou sur la joue. “C’est une petite fille qui sait ce qu’elle veut non ? Comme sa mère,” il a taquiné.

J’ai souri. Jean-Louis était de bonne humeur ce soir, et je voulais profiter du moment. C’était rare de nos jours, malheureusement.

“Bon, à table! Le dîner est prêt !” j’ai crié. “Anouk, viens s’il te plaît. On va manger.”

“Oui, maman, j’arrive,” elle a répondu.

Installés à la table, j’ai commencé à servir la blanquette de veau. ”Miam, miam, maman ! J’adore ça.” Anouk a dit.

Jean-Louis regardait Anouk avec affection. “Tu as passé une bonne journée avec ton Tonton Hervé, ma petite ?”

“Oui Papa, j’ai vu les bateaux. Tonton a dit que Père Noël a de petits bateaux dans son stock.”

“Ah bon ? Tu vas devoir écrire ta liste bientôt, ma petite puce,” a répondu Jean-Louis avec un grand sourire. “Hervé et Amina ont des plans pour les vacances, Leïla ?” a demandé Jean-Louis, en versant du vin pour moi.

“Oui, en fait, ils pensent aller en Angleterre pour voir Robert et Beth, les parents de Michael. Tu te rappelles quand Amina a fait un échange en Angleterre ?”

“Ah oui, je me rappelle, c’est vrai. Ils habitent à Londres, non ?”

“À Bath,” j’ai corrigé.

“Maman, comment Père Noël va venir à Bath avec mes bateaux ?”

“Pardon ?” j’ai dit, soudainement nerveuse.

“De quoi tu parles, Anouk ?” a demandé Jean-Louis. Il ne souriait plus.

“Maman a dit qu’on va en Angleterre pour voir La Reine,” elle a dit.

“Tu as dit ça, Leïla?” a demandé Jean-Louis.

“Anouk, arrête! Je n’ai pas du tout dit ça !” j’ai dit, gênée. “En fait, quand Anouk a vu Le Louvre, elle m’a demandé s’il y avait des princesses qui y habitaient. Alors quand Hervé racontait ses plans pour leur voyage, j’ai dit à Anouk qu’il n’y a plus de princesses en France mais qu’en Angleterre il y a une reine. C’est tout !”

“Mais Maman, on peut partir avec Tonton et Tati dans l’avion pour voir La Reine ?” Anouk a demandé, avec de grands yeux.

“Malheureusement…”, j’ai commencé mais Jean-Louis a interrompu.

“Je crois que c’est une bonne idée, ma puce ! Aller voir La Reine, quelle aventure !”

Et là, c’était moi qui avait de grands yeux.

“Did you have a good day, darling?” asked Jean-Louis. “How’s Hervé going?”

I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the family.

“He’s going really well, thank you. We went to the Tuileries Gardens to have a walk with the children. It was really great. Anouk adored seeing ‘the big castle’ and the little boats on the pond, of course. She has decided that she wants a boat for Christmas.”

Jean-Louis laughed and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “She’s a little girl who knows what she wants, isn’t she? Like her mother,” he teased.

I smiled. Jean-Louis was in a good mood this evening, and I wanted to make the most of the moment. It was rare these days, unfortunately.

“Right, everyone at the table. Dinner is ready!” I cried. “Anouk, come please. We’re going to eat.”

“Yes, Mum, I’m coming,” she responded.

Settled in at the table, I started to serve the blanquette de veau.

“Yum, yum, Mum! I love this,” Anouk said.

Jean-Louis looked at Anouk with affection. “Did you have a good day with your Uncle Hervé, little one?”

“Yes, Dad, I saw the boats. Uncle said that Father Christmas has boats in his stock.”

“Oh really? You’re going to have to write your list soon, my little flea,” responded Jean-Louis with a big smile. “Do Hervé and Amina have plans for the holidays, Leïla?” asked Jean-Louis, while pouring me some wine.

“Yes, in fact, they’re thinking of going to England to see Robert and Beth, Michael’s parents. Do you remember when Amina did an exchange in England?”

“Oh yes, I remember, that’s right. They live in London, don’t they?”

“In Bath,” I corrected.

“Mum, how is Father Christmas going to come to Bath with my boats?”

“Pardon?” I said, suddenly nervous.

“What are you talking about, Anouk?” asked Jean-Louis. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Mum said that we’re going to England to see The Queen,” she said.

“Did you say that, Leïla?” asked Jean-Louis.

“Anouk, stop! I didn’t say that at all!” I said, embarrassed. “In fact, when Anouk saw The Louvre, she asked me if there were any princesses who lived there. So when Hervé was talking about his plans for their trip, I said to Anouk that there were no more princesses in France but that in England there was a queen. That’s all!”

“But Mum, can we go with Uncle and Aunty in the plane to see The Queen?” Anouk asked, with wide eyes.

”Unfortunately…” I started, but Jean-Louis interrupted.

”I think that that’s a good idea, my little flea! Going to see The Queen, what an adventure!”

And then, it was me who had wide eyes.

When there are no words

Don’t we all love it when we’re able to translate from our mother tongue into French mot pour mot*? It’s reassuring in a way, to know that there is true common ground to be found between the two languages.

Quelle douleur exquise*, though, when we come across words that simply defy translation. Though sometimes mind-bendingly uncomfortable, there’s a beauty in knowing that the lived experience of one culture requires description, while the idea itself is not even conceived of in another. Vive la différence*!

word for word | What exquisite pain | Long live difference!

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 2 of the Intermediate 2 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Tu m’écoutes, Léïla ?”

“Pardon ? Qu’est-ce que tu as dit ?” j’ai répondu à mon frère, Hervé, qui me regardait attentivement.

“Ça va ? Qu’est ce qu’il y a, Léïla ? Tu as l’air…je ne sais pas…un peu triste ? Tout va bien ?”

“Oh je suis désolée, Hervé. Je pensais à quelque chose.”

Il faisait un peu froid mais beau aujourd’hui donc mon frère et moi avons décidé de se retrouver sur le Pont du Carrousel près du Louvre pour faire une promenade avec mes enfants. Les enfants d’Hervé étaient à la maison avec sa femme, Amina. Les jumelles étaient en poussette et Anouk marchait toute seule, très lentement. Elle avait trois ans et elle adorait son oncle.

“Tonton, tonton, regarde !” elle a dit. “Il y a un château !”

“Tu as raison, mon lapin, dans le passé c’était un château, mais maintenant c’est un musée.”

“Un grand musée, “ elle a ajouté. “Avec beaucoup de dessins.”

“Elle a ton intelligence, c’est sûr,” Hervé a dit, et il a pris mon bras. “Bon, qu’est-ce qu’il y a, ma petite sœur ? Dis-moi tout.”

“Oh, ce n’est rien. Vraiment, rien de grave. Je suis juste un peu fatiguée, c’est tout.”

“Tu es sûre ? C’est les enfants ? Mais ce sont des anges !” il m’a taquiné. Hervé connaissait très bien ses nièces et il comprenait que même si elles étaient adorables, elles étaient aussi parfois difficiles. Particulièrement les jumelles, qui ne dormaient pas beaucoup.

“Oui, les enfants, et mes études, et…” Je n’ai pas fini ma phrase.

“Et ? Et quoi ? C’est Jean-Louis ? Vous avez des problèmes ?” Hervé avait l’air concerné. Je n’aimais pas quand mon frère me regardait comme ça.

“Non, ça va, honnêtement. Je suis simplement fatiguée et un peu stressée. Ce n’est pas grave. Je te promets. Bon, pardon, qu’est-ce que tu disais à l’instant ?”

“Je disais qu’Amina et moi allons partir pour Londres dans deux semaines pour aller voir nos amis, Robert et Beth. Tu te rappelles de Robert et Beth ? Ils habitent à Bath.”

“Ah oui, bien sûr! Amina a fait un échange au lycée et elle est restée avec Robert et Beth et leurs fils. Comment il s’appelle déjà ?”

“Michael. Oui, on y va pour quelques jours. Les enfants vont rester avec Maman. Tu dois venir avec nous ! J’ai l’impression que tu as besoin de changer les idées un peu, non ? Et tu peux pratiquer ton anglais.”

“Non, je veux dire, oui, mais non, je ne vais pas venir avec vous deux ! Vous devez profiter de partir en vacances sans les enfants. C’est comme une deuxième lune de miel.”

Hervé a commencé à dire quelque chose quand on a entendu une petite voix derriere nous dire: “Les crêpes au miel, oui, s’il te plaît, Maman ! J’adore !” 

Hervé et moi s’est regardé et on a commencé à rigoler.

“Are you listening to me, Léïla ?”

“Sorry? What did you say?” I replied to my brother, who was looking at me attentively.

“Are you okay? What’s up, Léïla? You seem…I don’t know…a bit sad? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hervé. I was thinking about something.”

It was a bit cold but fine today so my brother and I decided to meet each other on the Pont du Carrousel near the Louvre to go for a walk with my children. Hervé’s children were at home with his wife, Amina. The twins were in the pusher and Anouk was walking all by herself, very slowly. She was three years old and she adored her uncle.

“Uncle, uncle, look!” she said. “There’s a big castle over there!”

“You’re right, my little rabbit, in the past it was a castle, but now it’s a museum.”

“A big museum,” she added. “With lots of drawings.”

“She has your intelligence, that’s for sure,” Hervé said, and he took my arm. “Right, what’s wrong, little sis? Tell me everything.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Really, nothing serious. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? It is the kids? But they’re angels!” he teased me. Hervé knew his nieces very well and he understood that even if they were adorable, they were also difficult at times. Particularly the twins, who didn’t sleep a lot.

“Yes, the kids, and my studies, and…” I didn’t finish my sentence.

“And? And what? Is it Jean-Louis? Are you having problems?” Hervé seemed concerned. I didn’t like it when my brother looked at me like that.

“No, it’s fine, honestly. I am simply tired and a bit stressed. It’s not serious. I promise. Right, sorry, what were you saying just now?”

“I was saying that Amina and I are going to leave for London in two weeks to go and see our friends, Robert and Beth. Do you remember Robert and Beth? They live in Bath.”

“Oh yes, of course! Amina did an exchange at high school and she stayed with Robert and Beth and their son. What is his name again?”

“Michael. Yes, we’re going for a few days. The kids are going to stay with Mum. You have to come with us! I get the feeling you need a bit of a change of scenery, don’t you? And you can practise your English.”

“No, I mean, yes, but no, I am not going to come with you two! You have to make the most of going on holidays with the kids. It’s like a second honeymoon!”

Hervé started to to say something when we heard a little voice behind us say”

“Crêpes with honey, yes please, Mum! I love them!”

Hervé and I looked at each other and started to laugh.

Expressions sur la joie

As éphémère* as it may be, we’re all on the hunt for it in some fashion.

May simply reading about it bring some bonheur* to your day.

Merci à Élodie pour l’inspiration pour ce post*.

*ephemeral | *happiness | *Thanks to Elodie for the inspiration for this post.

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 2 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Coucou !” j’ai crié quand j’ai ouvert la porte de notre appartement. “C’est moi !”

Silence.

“Jean-Louis ?” j’ai appelé. “Tu es là ?”

Rien. J’ai mis mon manteau sur notre lit et je suis entrée dans le salon. Personne. La salle était tout sombre.

“Il est quelle heure ?” Jean-Louis a demandé.

“Oh là, là !” j’ai crié. “Jean-Louis, tu m’as fait peur ! Pourquoi tu n’as pas mis la lumière ? Tu es malade ?”

“Non, je ne suis pas malade, Leïla. Je suis triste. Il y a une différence,” il a répondu.

“Ah, mon chéri ! Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ? Tu as de mauvaises nouvelles du Maroc ? Je suis désolée. Qu’est-ce que je peux faire ?” j’ai demandé.

Jean-Louis n’a rien dit pour quelques secondes. Il avait l’air un peu étrange.

“Qu’est-ce que tu peux faire, Leïla. Hmm, voyons, c’est une très bonne question. Bon, pour commencer, tu peux te comporter comme ma femme, pas comme une adolescente,” il a dit. Il était furieux.

“Quoi ?” j’ai répondu. J’étais dévastée. J’adorais mon mari alors pourquoi il me parlait comme ça?

“Tu as entendu,” il a dit.

“Mais Jean-Louis, quel est le problème ? Je suis allée à l’université, j’ai pris un verre avec une amie et puis je suis rentrée. Pourquoi tu es agité ?”

“Une amie ?” il a répondu. “Tu es sûre que ce n’était pas ‘un ami’, Leïla ?”

Je ne pouvais pas respirer. Je ne savais pas quoi dire. J’adore Jean-Louis, mais il est jaloux parfois.

“Non, une amie. Une amie que tu connais, en fait, Jean-Louis. Noëlle.”

“Ha ! Noëlle ? Tu penses que c’est une amie, Leïla ? Cette femme est une grande manipulatrice et tu es trop naïve de comprendre ça.”

“Moi, naïve ? Tu plaisantes. C’est toi qui a une petite vie. Tu travailles, tu rentres, et tu voyages une fois par an pour voir tes parents. Pour moi, c’est toi qui souffre de la naïveté.”

Avec ça, Jean-Louis s’est levé, et il s’est approché de moi.

“Et en plus, tu pues ! Ton parfum c’est du vin, aujourd’hui, ma femme. J’ai honte pour toi ! Tu es une mère !”

“Oui, ça c’est correcte, Jean-Louis, je suis une mère, mais tu n’es pas mon père ! Arrête de parler comme ça !”

Jean-Louis a pris mon bras avec beaucoup de force.

“Ne me touche pas, Jean-Louis. Je te promets, je te quitte.” C’était moi maintenant qui était furieuse. J’ai quitté le salon et j’ai claqué la porte derrière moi. Et puis, j’ai commencé à pleurer.

“Hi there!” I shouted as I opened the door to our apartment. “It’s me!”

Silence.

“Jean-Louis?” I called. “Are you there?”
Nothing. I put my coat on our bed and entered the living room. No-one. The room was all dark.

“What time is it?” Jean-Louis asked.

“Oh my goodness!” I cried. “You scared me! Why haven’t you turned on the light? Are you unwell?”

“No, I am not sick, Leïla. I am sad. There is a difference,” he responded.

“Oh, my darling, what’s wrong? Did you get some bad news from Morocco? I am sorry, what can I do?” I asked. Jean-Louis didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He seemed a bit strange.

“What can you do, Leïla? Hmm, let’s see, that’s a good question. Well, to start with, you could behave as my wife, not as a teenager,” he said. He was furious.

“What?” I replied. I was devastated. I adored my husband so why was he speaking to me like that?

“You heard,” he said.

“But Jean-Louis, what is the problem? I went to university, I had a drink with a friend and then I came home. Why are you agitated?”

“A female friend?” he responded. “Are you sure it wasn’t a ‘male friend’, Leïla?”

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to say. I adore Jean-Louis, but sometimes he gets jealous.

“No, a female friend. A female friend that you know, in fact. Noëlle.”

“Ha! Noëlle? Do you think she’s a friend, Leïla? That woman is a huge manipulator and you’re too naive to understand that.”

“Me, naive? You are joking. It’s you that has a little life. You work, you come home, and you go once a year to Morocco to see your parents. For me, it’s you who is suffering from naivety.”

With that, Jean-Louis got up, and made his way over to me. “And what’s more, you stink! Your perfume is wine today, my wife. I am ashamed for you. You are a mother!”

“Yes, that’s correct, Jean-Louis, I am a mother, but you are not my father. Stop speaking like that!”

Jean-Louis grabbed hold of my arm really hard.

“Do not touch me, Jean-Louis. I promise you, I’ll leave you.” It was me now who was furious. I left the living room and slammed the door behind me. And then, I started to cry.

It gets easier

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the good news starts here. 

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

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

Take a look for yourself:

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

• silent letters

• strange vowel combinations (oi is pronounced wuh?)

• tu vs vous

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

• standard vs familiar language (bonjour vs salut)

• liaison

• the difference between on and nous

• pronunciation exceptions (monsieur)

• how to pronounce French ‘r’s

• agreement (enchanté vs enchantée)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actus français facile

Our first steps into listening to French can be slightly harrowing. My mind goes to preparing DELF students for their exams by listening to authentic audio tracks. Until I hit play, they have no idea what they’ll be faced with: are they in a train station, at the supermarket, is it a debate or simply a couple talking about upcoming holiday plans?

A lack of context can be a true impediment to comprehension which is why I really love Radio France Internationale’s Journal en français facile*. The subject matter is international current affairs, giving us at least some immediate context.

The language has been pared back and slowed down for a global audience, and there’s also a full transcript you can use to follow along. If you’re really keen, you could even read the dialogue ahead of time to translate any unknown vocabulary before your first listen. If you’re short on time, though, I still recommend just popping it on in the background (if only for the opening news theme which makes me feel like I’m right back in France).

*News in easy French

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 6 of the Intermediate 1 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Bonsoir Simon, comment allez-vous ?” j’ai demandé alors que mon professeur s’installait à notre table de café.

“Très bien, merci Leïla, et vous ?” il a répondu poliment.

“Simon, je vous présente mon amie, Noëlle. Noëlle, c’est Simon, mon professeur d’anglais,” j’ai dit.

“Enchantée, Simon,” Noëlle a dit et elle a sourit. “Vous voulez boire quelque chose ?”

“Oui, avec plaisir, mais c’est moi qui vous invite,” a répondu Simon. “Que voulez-vous boire ?”

“Ah, un vrai gentleman anglais, je vois,” Noëlle a dit gaiement. “Quelle plaisir de vous rencontrer, Simon.” 

“Vous aussi, Noëlle. Alors, mesdames, vous voulez du café ou autre chose?” il a demandé.

“Un petit café pour moi, s’il vous plaît, Simon,” j’ai dit. “Merci, c’est gentil.”

“Toujours très sage, notre Leïla,” Noëlle a taquiné. “Vous ne trouvez pas, Simon ? Elle doit être la chouchoute de votre classe, non ? Vous ne préférez pas un autre vin, Leïla ?”

“Non, je ne peux pas, je suis désolée. Je vais devoir partir bientôt et on a déjà pris deux verres. Ça suffit pour moi.”

Noëlle a levé les yeux au ciel et a dit: “Simon, un autre vin rosé pour moi, s’il vous plaît. Ou prenons une bouteille ?”

Simon a fait signe au serveur “S’il vous plaît !”. Le serveur est venu tout de suite. “Un café et un pitcher de vin rosé avec deux verres, s’il vous plaît. Et les toilettes sont en bas ?” il a demandé.

“Oui, monsieur,” il a répondu. “Juste derrière le bar.”

“Simon, quand vous allez aux toilettes, est-ce que ça vous dérange si on change de chaises ? Je voudrais bien profiter des dernières minutes de soleil,” Noëlle a dit.

“Bien sûr, Noëlle,” Simon a dit. C’est vrai, c’est un gentleman, Simon.

“Merci beaucoup,” Noëlle a dit et elle s’est levée pour changer de chaises. Elle portait une mini-jupe rayée avec de longues bottes blanches. Elle regardait Simon et elle a dit: “Une autre raison pour apprécier les Anglais - les mini-jupes. Mary Quant est anglaise, n’est-ce pas, Simon ? J’adore porter les mini-jupes. Je me sens tellement libérée !”

Simon a rougi un petit peu et il s’est excusé pour aller aux toilettes.

“Noëlle,” j’ai dit. “Arrête ! Tu as vu son visage? Simon est timide, ne fais pas ça avec lui. C’est mon prof !”

“Ah, Leïla, calme-toi. C’est un adulte, et de toute façon, c’est une blague ! Oh là, là, parfois je ne comprends pas pourquoi on est amies. Tu es tellement sérieuse. En plus, il est tellement beau, je ne peux pas résister !"

“Good evening, Simon, how are you going?” I asked as my teacher took a seat at our café table.

“Very well, thanks Leïla, and you?” he responded politely.

“Simon, I’d like you to meet my friend, Noëlle. Noëlle, this is Simon, my English professor,” I said.

“Pleased to meet you, Simon,” Noëlle and she smiled. “Do you want something to drink?”

”Yes, with pleasure, but please allow me,” responded Simon. “What do you want to drink?”

“Oh, a true English gentleman, I see,” Noëlle said gaily. “What a pleasure to meet you, Simon.”

“You too, Noëlle. So, ladies, do you want coffee or something else?” he asked.

“A coffee for me, please, Simon,” I said. “Thank you, that’s nice of you.”

“Always so good, our Leïla,” Noëlle teased. “Don’t you think, Simon? She must be the teacher’s pet of the class, no? You wouldn’t rather another wine, Leïla?”

“No, I can’t, I’m sorry. I am going to have to leave soon on we’ve already had two glasses. That’s enough for me.”

Noëlle rolled her eyes and said: “Simon, another rosé for me, please. Or shall we have a bottle?”

“Excuse me!” Simon called the waiter over, who came straight away. “A coffee and a pitcher of rosé with two glasses, please. And are the toilets downstairs?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” he responded. “Just behind the bar.”

“Simon, when you go to the toilet, so you mind if we change chairs? I’d like to make the most of the last few minutes of sun,” Noëlle said.

”Of course, Noëlle,” Simon said. It’s true, he’s a gentleman, Simon.

“Thank you very much,” Noëlle said and got up to change chairs. She was wearing a striped mini-skirt and long white boots. She was looking at Simon when she said: “Another reason to like the English - mini-skirts! Mary Quant is English, isn’t she, Simon? I love wearing mini-skirts. I feel so free!”

Simon blushed a little and excused himself to go the the toilet.

“Noëlle,” I said. “Stop! Did you see his face? Simon’s shy, don’t do that with him. He’s my professor!”

“Oh Leïla, calm down. He’s an adult, and anyway, it’s a joke! Gee, sometimes I don’t know how we’re friends. You’re so serious. Plus, he’s so handsome, I can’t resist!”

Create your carry-on

Le mois dernier*, we spoke about the almost-universal experience of freezing up when speaking French. If you’ve experienced it, you know how frustrating it can be. The minute the pressure’s on, all those perfect phrases we form in our heads when under the shower or driving the car partent en fumée* and we’re left fumbling, stumbling and, often, completely mute.

It’s terrible for your self confidence but there is a way to remedy it. You just need a little grab bag of phrases you can count on. Much like the items you put in your carry-on luggage when travelling, these phrases need to be simple, useful and easy to access at all times.

So how do you ensure you’re able to bring them out when you need them? I wish the solution were un chouïa plus inspirant*, but the reality is simply to practise them over and over and over again, (preferably out loud) until they become completely banal to you. Hopefully then, when you feel that deer in the headlights moment approaching, you’ll be able to reach into your in-cabin bag of a brain and pull out a phrase that works, no rummaging required.

We’ve provided some ideas below to get you going, but remember, these phrases are going to be your best buddies, so make sure you have a little stock that appeal to you, and that you’ll enjoy spending time with.

*last month | *go up in smoke | *a touch more inspiring

• Yes.

• I like that.

• Pardon?

• That’s great.

Keeping things positive encourages conversation, no matter the language.

• Yes, that’s true.

• I prefer…

• I don’t understand.

• I’m not sure.

Add a little nuance to your language and give the dialogue some room to move.

• Yes, I agree.

• Can I…?

• What does….mean?

• It was…

Asking for clarification is a really good way to make sure you’re on the right track as well as deepen your understanding of both the language and the culture.

• Exactly.

• Do you think that…?

• For me, it’s more that…

• And in fact…

Really get into the l’essentiel* by sharing ideas and opinions.

Bon courage*!

*the nitty gritty | *Good luck!

Why learn a language?

If you’re reading this blog, it’s likely you have your own answer to this question, but sometimes, when you’re knee-deep in the bizarreries* of the verb être*, it can be hard to remember why on earth you started in the first place.

A gently motivational response to the question by world-renowned linguist John McWhorter.

*quirks | *to be

Beaucoup de problèmes !

Beaucoup* is one of the words we learn very early on in French. En fait*, even if you’ve never really studied French, you’ll most likely know the phrase merci beaucoup, meaning ‘thank you very much’ or ‘thanks a lot’.

So what is le problème* ?

It’s often when we want to use the word beaucoup to mean ‘many’, ‘a lot of’ or, less formally, ‘lots of’ that we seem to run into trouble. And this is not big trouble we’re talking about. This is just a small error that many of us make repetitively and that is very easy to fix, so let’s hop to it!

The basic rule is this:

It’s natural for a non-native French speaker to want to say des as we are talking about something plural.

For example:

lots of flowers
a lot of opportunities
many baskets

So we’d quite logically want to say:

beaucoup des fleurs
beaucoup des opportunités
beaucoup des paniers

But please don’t. Just remember that we always say beaucoup de or beaucoup d’ (when your noun starts with a vowel or an ‘h’), despite the fact we’re talking about plural things.

It’s neat in a way, because as you know, de means ‘of’, so it’s quite easy to accept that beaucoup de translates to ‘lots of’ or ‘a lot of’. The correct way to say these things is:

beaucoup de fleurs
beaucoup d’opportunités
beaucoup de paniers

It’s actually quite liberating when you realise you don’t need to care about the gender or the number of the thing(s) you’re describing. Since it’s always going to be beaucoup de (except when you’re dealing with a vowel or ‘h’ and it becomes beaucoup d’), you can just go for it.

beaucoup de bonbons*, beaucoup d’hommes*, beaucoup de sucre*, beaucoup de villes*, beaucoup de temps*, beaucoup d’artistes*, beaucoup de vin*, beaucoup d’amour*…

Before you get too carried away, though, you may have heard that in French there are always exceptions. Ça te parle* ? Well, this is no exception.

This is the one time you can say beaucoup des. As we mentioned before, de means ‘of’, and when we add de to les (the), it becomes des and means ‘of the’. So if your sentence can be translated into English to mean ‘a lot of the’ as opposed to ‘a lot of’, then feel free to break the rule. Ouf* !

Beaucoup des films étaient trop longs cette année.
A lot of the films were too long this year.

Beaucoup des invitées sont arrivés avant lui.
A lot of the guests arrived before him.

C’était Anaïs qui a proposé beaucoup des idées pour le projet.
It’s Anaïs who suggested a lot of the ideas for the project.

Thanks to Thought Co. for inspiring this article.

*A lot / many / lots of | *In fact | *the problem | *a lot of lollies | *a lot of men | *a lot of sugar | *a lot of cities | *a lot of time | *a lot of artists | *a lot of wine | *a lot of love | *Does that ring a bell? | *Phew!

A quest for happiness

Le bonheur* is both a beautiful French word and a noble pursuit, one which French philosophers and writers have pondered for centuries.

Grab a coffee and take the time to reflect sur ces bonnes paroles*.

1. I recognised my happiness by the sound it made in leaving. - Jacques Prévert

2. Happiness is everything that happens between two hassles. - Jean-Baptiste Lafond

3. True happiness costs little: if it’s expensive, it’s not the right type. - François René de Châteaubriand

4. Happiness is continuing to desire what one possesses. - Saint Augustin

5. If you want to understand the word happiness, you need to hear it as a reward and a not a goal. - Antoine St-Exupéry

6. To dream, that’s happiness. To wait, that’s life. - Victor Hugo.

*Happiness | *these words of wisdom

Go back to basics

Arriving at work a few weeks ago, and with this article half-written in my head, I happened up on a scene that was not only très familier* but enabled me to round out my thoughts on the matter of how to learn French (or at least a very important aspect of it): what to do when you get stuck.

There was someone, let’s call her Catherine, talking to one of our tutors, let’s call her Marie-Hélène (because that is her name and she deserves most of the credit for the ideas in this article).

Those of you who come to lessons at Lingua Franca know there are (strangely steep) steps to arrive au nid* and that the front is all glass. As I puffed my way to the top, I grinned as I saw Catherine and Marie-Hélène speaking to one another in French (I could could tell by the way they were moving their mouths - French is all out front, with English the face is flatter). I was so rapt because I could see they were enjoying a really lovely little chat before they started their respective classes. They looked both engaged and relaxed.

However, as soon as I opened the door and they saw me, the conversation stopped dead. I encouraged them to keep going, and they did pick up the thread of the conversation but I could tell without even looking at Catherine that she was feeling self-conscious now that I was there. Her speech became halting, she made a mistake, corrected herself, then looked at me for reassurance, and within the space of a few seconds, simply gave up, exclaiming “And I was going so well!”

I agreed, she was going so well and I felt really bad that my arrival had put paid to a great little French moment for her. I felt for her, which is illuminating because as I write this, I realise that when the very same thing happens to me, I don’t feel empathy for myself, I just feel like une idiote*.

People are often surprised to hear that this also happens to me, but I can assure you it does. Even though I can rabbit on at full speed in French with my workmates sans problème*, the whole atmosphere changes if one of their (French) partners or friends walks in. All of a sudden, that critical voice in my head revs up and consequently mon français part en quenouille*. I start doubting myself, sure I’m making errors the owner of a French school shouldn’t, positive the partner or friend is judging me, then I start looking to my workmates for reassurance that I’m not making error and so it devolves. The whole thing would be funny if it didn’t make for such an awkward scene.

The only thing that is reassuring to me is that my workmates, who are second-language speakers themselves, all report feeling the same thing but in reverse when speaking English. In fact, I’ve really got nothing to complain about - I face this situation from time to time. They face it every day. And, when I lived in France, I faced it every day, too, and managed to overcome it to a degree.

I think when you’re speaking to someone you don’t know, it’s easier. Of course you may be a bit nervous or shy to trot out your French when you’re not used to it, but the stakes are relatively low, and if you’re forced to speak your second language day after day, you do lose a lot of that apprehension. However, place most of us in a situation where we actually care about the outcome, and our French can grind to a halt.

So, the solution I was going to offer in my previously-mentioned half-written article was simply this:

When we’re under stress and our mind is going a million miles an hour we tend to forget to breathe. By pausing and taking a breath, we can often put the brakes on the runaway train that is our mind.

For a brief second, just take notice of your surroundings and with any luck, you’ll feel your brain start to relax.

Then, in order to quieten that critical voice in your head, follow Marie-Hélène’s excellent advice, which is:

Marie-Hélène suggests going to back to phrases you know you know. According to her, this is not the time to try to break out a new phrase you learned last week and think you know. Fall back on the phrases you use all the time, even if they may seem too simple for the occasion. Better to get out a simple sentence than no sentence at all, non*?

This makes sense to me. If our brain is already stressed and our critical little voice is telling us we’re rubbish at French, pulling out a well-worn phrase or two may just be enough to stop it right in its tracks. Fake it till you make it.

Marie-Hélène suggests creating a stock of these simple phrases in your mind, and practising them over and over again until they become second nature. That way, when you’re under the pump, you should be able to pull out something of use quite quickly.

The way I imagine it is in terms of luggage. When we travel, we usually pack one piece of carry-on luggage with all our essential items for use in flight. It may not contain our prettiest or most sophisticated items, but it does contain things that get the job done (passeport*, téléphone*, portefeuille*, mouchoirs*, châle*). Reaching for a fancy phrase when under pressure is the equivalent of asking to disembark the plane to access your suitcase which is located at the back of the hold because you know, you just know, that once you’ve remembered how to unlock it, and under five layers of t-shirts and just next to your wash bag, you’re sure you have just the bon mot* for the occasion. Meanwhile, your fellow travellers have ordered their cocktails and are settling in to watch a movie.

Next month, what exactly are those phrases you want in your carry-on? We’ll take a look, and offer you some options according to your level.

In the meantime, continue to be courageous. Not everyone would even give it a go. Chapeau* !

*very familiar | *at the nest | *an idiot | *no problem | *my French goes down the toilet | *isn’t that right? | *passport | *telephone | *wallet | *tissues | *shawl | *clever turn of phrase | *Hats off to you!