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 Revision level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

Au final, on n’a pas parlé un seul mot de français ensemble. Après une promenade le long de la rivière, on s’est arrêté à un vrai pub anglais près de l’université.

Le soleil brillait, qui était assez rare, Simon m’a assuré, et nous avons profité du beau temps pour s’installer dans le jardin à une table en plein soleil.

“Tu n’as pas trop chaud, Leïla ?” Simon m’a demandé. “On peut changer de table si tu préfères.”

“Non, pas du tout, Simon, merci. J’ai l’habitude, après tout. Je vais chaque année au Maroc avec mon mari pour voir sa famille, donc la chaleur ne pose pas de problème chez moi. Mais c’est gentil de me demander, merci encore.”

“Alors, que fait ton mari aujourd’hui, Leïla, pendant que tu visites la bibliothèque ? Désolé, je ne connais pas son nom,” Simon a ajouté.

“C’est Jean-Louis,” j’ai répondu.

“Ah bon ?” Simon a dit. “Il n’a pas de nom arabe ?”

“Non, en fait, oui, désolée, il a un nom arabe, mais il a décidé de le changer quand il a immigré en France quand il était plus jeune.”

“Ah bon, je vois. Alors qu’est-ce qu’il fait aujourd’hui ? Il s’occupe des enfants ?”

“En fait je ne suis pas sûre, Simon. Il n’est pas avec moi ici en Angleterre. Il est resté à Paris car il doit travailler. Mais il s’occupe des jumelles, oui, c’est vrai.”

Simon avait l’air surpris de nouveau. “Alors j’imagine qu’il doit être bien occupé, non ? Deux jeunes enfants et un boulot, c’est pas donné, ça.”

Je ne pouvais pas supprimer mon prochain réflexe. “C’est plus facile que trois jeunes enfants, une maison, un mari et des études, je dois dire.” Le moment que les mots se sont échappés de ma bouche, je les regrettais.

Simon a réagi tout de suite. “Ah, pardon, Leïla. Bien sûr que tu travailles très dur toute l’année.  je suis désolé. Même quand on est conscient, c’est vrai que le sexisme est difficile d’échapper.”

“Non, ça va, Simon. Moi, je suis désolée. Ma réaction est bien plus forte que nécessaire.”

“Du côté positif, Jean-Louis doit être assez moderne s’il te laisse venir ici en Angleterre, non ?”

“Me laisse venir ici, Simon ?” j’ai répondu, en colère pour de vrai maintenant. “Je ne suis pas son animal domestique. Il ne m’a pas laissé venir ici, il m’a encouragé, en fait, et je ne sais pas pourquoi ! Et en plus, il a dû demandé à sa mère de venir l’aider faire quelque chose que moi je fais toute seule tous les jours ! C’est exaspérant !” Et avec ça, j’ai éclaté en sanglots, là, au pub, au soleil avec un homme tellement gentil qui ne voulait pas me faire mal. Qui suis-je, effectivement !

In the end, we didn't speak a single word of French together. After a walk along the river, we stopped at a real English pub near the university.

The sun was shining, which was quite rare Simon assured me, and we took advantage of the beautiful weather to settle in the garden at a table in full sun.

"Do you feel too hot, Leïla?" Simon asked me. "We can change tables if you’d like."

"No, not at all, Simon, thank you. I'm used to it, after all. I go to Morocco every year with my husband to see his family, so the heat isn't an issue for me. But it's kind of you to ask, thank you again."

"So, what’s your husband doing today, Leïla, while you're visiting the library? Sorry, I don't know his name," Simon added.

"It's Jean-Louis," I replied.

"Oh really?" Simon said. "He doesn't have an Arabic name?"

"No, actually, yes, sorry, he has an Arabic name, but he decided to change it when he immigrated to France when he was younger."

"Oh, I see. So what’s he doing today? Taking care of the children?"

"In fact, I'm not sure, Simon. He's not with me here in England. He stayed in Paris because he has to work. But yes, he’s taking care of the twins, that's true."

Simon looked surprised again. "So I imagine he must be quite busy, then? Two young children and a job, that's a lot."

I couldn't suppress my next reflex. "It's easier than three young children, a house, a husband, and studies, I must say." The moment the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them.

Simon reacted immediately. "Oh, sorry, Leïla. Of course, you work very hard all year. I'm sorry. Even when you’re aware of it, sexism is still difficult to escape."

"No, it's okay, Simon. I'm sorry. My reaction was much stronger than necessary."

"On the positive side, Jean-Louis must be quite modern if he lets you come here to England, right?"

"Let me come here, Simon?" I replied, genuinely angry now. "I'm not his pet. He didn't let me come here; in fact, he encouraged me and I don’t know why. And furthermore, he had to ask his mother to come help him do something that I do all by myself every day! It's exasperating!" And with that, I burst into tears, there, in the pub, in the sun, with such a kind man who didn't mean to hurt me. Who am I, indeed?

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

Fun French Word: Pantouflard

Is lounging chez nous* on the weekends more your style than attending a fabulous soirée*? Then you, mon ami(e)*, could quite possibly be un pantouflard*.

Roughly translating as ‘homebody’, this phrase comes from the word, pantoufles* – meaning slippers. A fan of the indoors, a pantouflard is someone who spends life in their house slippers.

The expression has been used for decades by authors, appearing as early as the 1920s. C’est charmant, non*?  

Photo by Lisa Fotios

*at your place | *party | *my friend | *a homebody | *slippers | *It’s charming, isn’t it?

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 Revision level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

Dans le train en route à Oxford pour aller visiter la fameuse bibliothèque The Bodleian, j’ai essayé de lire un des petits livres en anglais que j’avais acheté le jour avant à Londres. Le texte était assez simple, mais je ne pouvais pas me concentrer. J’ai décidé alors de profiter de ce moment de solitude après toute l’activité du voyage.

Malheureusement, j’étais incapable de me calmer. J’étais bouleversée par tous les évènements des jours et semaines précédents. “Qui suis-je ?”, je me suis demandée et tout de suite, j’ai rigolé. “Quelle question, Leïla !” je me suis dit, mais je me sentais quand même mal à l’aise. Je ne savais plus si j’étais une bonne mère, une bonne femme, une bonne étudiante…oh là là ! La seule chose que dont j’étais sûre était le fait d’être ravie de me retrouver toute seule pour une fois de ma vie. Toute seule et…libre ? La question me troublait, alors j’étais bien contente quand le train est arrivé à la gare et je pouvais sortir pour commencer mon aventure.

En arrivant au foyer de la bibliothèque je me sentais tout de suite inspirée. Tous les livres, tous les étudiants et tout en anglais! C’était le paradis. Mon bonheur n’a pas duré très longtemps malheureusement quand j’ai vu la petite pancarte “Cardholders only”.

“C’est pas possible !” je me suis dit.

“Can I help you?” le bibliothécaire m’a demandé poliment.

“I hope so,” j’ai répondu. “I’m very sorry, but I don’t have a card. Je suis française.”

Tout d’un coup, j’ai entendu mon nom.

“Leïla ! Super, you’re here.”

“Simon !” je me suis exclamée. “Qu’est-ce que…”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr Jeffries,” Simon a dit, “This charming young lady is helping me with some research and I, like a dolt, forgot to organise her a temporary card. You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not, Simon. Off you go.”

Simon m’a dirigé vers l’entrée à la salle principale et a dit rapidement; “Ne dis rien.”

“Mais Simon, qu’est-ce que tu fais ?” j’ai demandé doucement. “Pourquoi tu es ici ?”

“Je peux te poser la même question, non ?” il a répondu, en souriant.

“Moi, je suis ici en Angleterre avec ma famille. Nous sommes venus en vacances. Je voulais pratiquer mon anglais.”

“C’est une très bonne idée, Leïla. Tu restes combien de temps ?”

“Juste une semaine. J’ai passé deux jours à Londres et je suis venue ici pour voir l’université et la bibliothèque en particulier. On me dit que c’est incroyable et je suis d’accord. Demain, je vais aller à Bath pour voir des amis de ma belle-sœur.”

“Vous allez à Bath ? Ah, bon ? Je connais Bath très bien, en fait - “

“Quiet please !” a dit un des étudiants derrière nous.

“Désolée,” je me suis excusée. “I mean, sorry.”

“Tiens, Leïla, je sais que tu veux est ici pour visiter la bibliothèque, mais il fait tellement beau, tu ne veux pas qu’on se promène dans les jardins botaniques avant de faire notre ‘travail’? Comme ça on peut se parler sans interruptions. Il y a même un vrai pub traditionnel près de la rivière où on peut s’installer en terrasse. Tu peux me raconter de ton voyage. En anglais, bien sûr !”

“Les Anglais, toujours à la recherche d’une excuse pour boire de la bière !” j’ai taquiné.

“Pas besoin d’excuse, Leïla. Belle journée, belle femme, belle coïncidence. Allez, on y va !”

J’étais hésitante, mais je n’ai pas dit non.

On the train on the way to Oxford to visit the famous Bodleian Library, I tried to read one of the little English books I had bought the day before in London. The text was quite simple, but I couldn't concentrate. So, I decided to make the most of this moment of solitude after all the hustle and bustle of the journey.

Unfortunately, I was unable to calm down. I was disturbed by all the events of the preceding days and weeks. "Who am I?" I wondered and immediately chuckled. "What a question, Leïla!" I thought to myself, but I still felt uneasy. I didn't know if I was a good mother, a good wife, a good student... oh dear! The only thing I was sure about was being delighted to find myself alone for once in my life. Alone, and... free? The question troubled me, so I was quite pleased when the train arrived at the station, and I could step out to begin my adventure.

Upon arriving at the library foyer, I immediately felt inspired. All the books, all the students, and everything in English! It was paradise. Unfortunately, my happiness didn't last long when I saw the small sign that read "Cardholders only."

"It can't be!" I said to myself.

"Can I help you?" the librarian asked politely.

"I hope so," I replied. "I’m very sorry, but I don’t have a card. Je suis française."

Suddenly, I heard my name.

"Leïla! Super, you’re here."

"Simon!" I exclaimed. "What..."

"I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Jeffries," Simon said. "This charming young lady is helping me with some research, and I, like a dolt, forgot to organise her a temporary card. You don’t mind, do you?"

"Of course not, Simon. Off you go."

Simon directed me to the entrance of the main hall and quickly said, "Don't say anything."

"But Simon, what are you doing?" I asked quietly. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question, couldn’t I?" he replied, smiling.

"I'm here in England with my family. We're on vacation. I wanted to practise my English."

"That's a very good idea, Leïla. How long are you staying?"

"Just a week. I spent two days in London, and I came here to see the university and the library in particular. I've been told it's amazing, and I agree. Tomorrow, I'm going to Bath to visit some friends of my sister-in-law."

"You're going to Bath? Really? I know Bath very well, actually..."

"Quiet please!" one of the students behind us said.

"Pardon," I apologised. "I mean, sorry."

"Hey, Leïla, I know you're here to visit the library, but it's such a beautiful day. How about we take a stroll in the botanical gardens before we do our 'work'? That way, we can talk without interruption. There's even a real traditional pub near the river where we can sit outside. You can tell me about your trip. In English, of course!"

"The English, always looking for an excuse to drink beer!" I teased.

"No need for an excuse, Leïla. Beautiful day, beautiful woman, beautiful coincidence. Come on, let's go!"

I hesitated, but I didn't say no.

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 Revision level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Bon, changeons de sujet. Qu’est-ce que vous pensez faire demain ?” j’ai demandé mon frère, Hervé, en piquant une frite de son assiette.



“On pensait aller voir Big Ben. Amina voulait le montrer aux enfants et, moi, je voudrais le voir aussi. Et toi ? Tu veux venir avec nous ?”



“Oui, tout à fait. Je crois qu’Anouk aimerait aller le voir. Quoique…” j’ai hésité, pas sûre de vouloir continuer.



“Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, Leïla ?” Hervé m’a demandé. “Tu as un meilleure offre ?” il a taquiné.



“Non, bien sûr pas,” j’ai dit, un peu trop rapidement, en pensant au jeune homme qui m’avais tellement flattée cet plus tôt dans la journée. “C’est juste qu’hier, quand j’étais dans la librairie dont je te parlais, le vendeur a mentionné une bibliothèque à Oxford qui est apparemment incroyable. C’est une des bibliothèques les plus anciennes d’Europe et c’est un de mes rêves de la voir, mais bon, c’est loin et je ne peux absolument pas y aller avec Anouk. Tu peux imaginer si elle décide de faire une crise ? Oh, la honte ! Non, je ne peux pas, c’es trop compliqué.”



”Mais non, pas du tout ! On peut la garder, Leïla, ne t’inquiète pas. Elle peut venir avec nous pour voir Big Ben. Les filles seront ravies d’avoir leur grande cousine avec elles. J’insiste !”



“Ah, c’est gentil, Hervé, mais je ne peux pas. Deux jours de suite que vous gardez ma fille ? Je ne peux pas me permettre. J’aurai l’impression d’être une mauvaise mère !”



“Arrête, Leïla, tu es un super mère et tu es en vacances ! S’il te plaît, laisse-nous faire ça pour toi,” il a dit, en tenant me mains.



“Laisse-nous faire quoi, chéri ?” a demandé Amina, en s’installant de nouveau à la table avec les enfants.



“Je disais à Leïla qu’on peut garder Anouk demain. Elle veut aller visiter une bibliothèque à Oxford.”



“Le Bodleian ? Mais si, Leïla. Tu vas l’adorer ! Je suis allée le voir quand j’ai fait mon échange ici. C’est extraordinaire. C’est La Mecque pour les personnes qui adorent les livres. Tu dois y aller. J’insiste.”



“Bon, c’est parti ! Leïla, on peut prendre le petit-déjeuner ensemble à l’hôtel vers 07h00 et puis Amina peut t’expliquer comment y aller. Tu m’as dit que tu y es allée en train, non, mon amour ?”



“Oui, c’est bien ça. C’est vraiment très facile, Leïla, et le voyage est très agréable. Tu peux te détendre, regarder le paysage qui passe, lire un peu. En fait, je vais devenir un peu jalouse si on n’arrête pas de parler de ça, donc c’est décidé. Tu vas aller à Oxford demain et on va garder les trois filles.”

“

Chouette, c’est un plan,” a dit Hervé, avec un grand sourire. “Tu mérites un peu de temps pour toi,” il a ajouté, et il a jeté un coup d’œil à Amina rapidement.



“Mais arrêtez, vous deux, avec ces regards ! D’accord, c’est parti, je vais y aller ! Oh là, là !” j’ai dit en rigolant.

“Anyway, let’s change the subject. What are you thinking of doing tomorrow?” I asked my brother, Hervé, stealing a chip from his plate.

“We were thinking of going to see Big Ben. Amina would like to show it to the kids and I’d like to see it, too. And you? Do you want to come with us?”

“Yes, absolutely. I think Anouk would like to go and see it. Although…” I hesitated, not sure to wan to continue.

“What is it, Leïla?” Hervé asked me. “Do you have a better offer?” he teased.

“No, of course not,” I said, a bit too quickly, thinking of the charming young man who had so flattered me earlier that day. “It’s just that yesterday, when I was in the bookshop I was telling you about, the sales assistant mentioned a library in Oxford that’s apparently incredible. It’s one of the oldest libraries in Europe and it’s one of my dreams to see it, but you know, it’s far away and I absolutely cannot go there with Anouk. Can you imagine if she decided to have a tantrum? How embarrassing! No, I can’t, it’s too hard.”

“But no, not at all! We can look after her, Leïla, don’t worry. She can come with us to see Big Ben. The girls will be delighted to have their big cousin with them. I insist!”

“Oh, it’s kind of you, Hervé, but I can’t. Two days in a row that you look after my daughter? I can’t do that. I’ll feel like a bad mother!”

“Stop, Leïla, you are a fantastic mother and you’re on holidays! Please, let us do that for you,” he said, taking my hands in his.

“Let us do what, darling?” asked Amina, settling in once again at the table with the children.

“I was saying to Leïla that we can look after Anouk tomorrow. She wants to go and visit a library in Oxford.”

“The Bodleian? But yes, Leïla. You are going to love it! I went to see it when I did my exchange here. It’s extraordinary. It’s Mecca for people who love books. You must go. I insist.”

“Right, that’s sorted! Leïla, we can have breakfast together in the hotel at about 7am and then Amina can explain for to get there. You told me you went by train, didn’t you, my love?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s really very easy, Leïla, and the trip is really lovely. You can relax, look at the passing view, read a bit. In facvt, I am going to become a bit jealous if we don’t stop talking about it, so it’s decided. You arte going to go to Oxford tomorrow and we are going to look after the three girls.”

“Great, that’s a plan,” Hervé said, grinning broadly. “You deserve a bit of time to yourself,” he said, and he stole a quick glance at Amina.

“But stop it you two with these looks! Okay, it’s happening, I’m going to go. Oh là là!” I said, laughing.

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)

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 Revision level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“Bon, dis-moi tout, Hervé. Je te connais très bien et j’ai vu le regard entre vous deux. Tu as quelque chose à me dire ?” J’étais énervée, mais c’est vrai que j’avais un peu peur aussi à propos de ce que mon frère allait me dire.

“Ben, non c’est rien, Leïla,” il a dit, mais il rougissait un peu et était mal à l’aise. C’était clair.

“Rien ? Je l’ai vu, Hervé ! En fait, j’en ai vu deux ! Pourquoi vous vous regardiez comme ça ?” j’ai insisté.

“C’est juste que tu avais l’air un peu inquiet à propos de ta conversation avec Jean-Louis,” il a répondu.

“Et, alors ?” j’ai demandé.

“Alors, récemment, je ne sais pas comment dire ça, mais Amina et moi, nous avons l’impression que peut-être tu n’es pas complètement heureuse,” il a admis. Il avait une expression grave.

“Comment ça, pas heureuse ?” j’ai demandé. “Hervé, c’est normal ! J’ai trois petits enfants, je fais mes études et j’ai un mari qui…”

“Qui…” a répété Hervé. “Qui quoi, Leïla ?”

“Un mari qui…” j’ai commencé, mais je n’étais pas capable de terminer la phrase. Qui était la femme que j’avais entendu quand j’ai appelé ? Ou est-ce que je l’imaginais ? Perdue dans mes pensées, j’ai sursauté lorsque mon frère a pris ma main avec douceur.

“Leïla, écoute-moi. Comme je t’ai dit, tu me connais très bien. Ben, je te connais très bien aussi, tu sais. Je n’ai pas besoin de connaître les détails, mais je veux que tu saches que tu peux toujours me parler. Je suis là pour toi. Amina, aussi. On t’aime bien, Leïla, et on ne veut pas que tu sois malheureuse. C’est une des raisons pourquoi on t’a demandé de nous accompagner lors de ce voyage. On voyait que tu étais soucieuse, et on s’est dit que ça serait une bonne idée pour toi de venir avec nous pour changer tes idées un peu. Tu es ma petite sœur et mon rôle est de te protéger.”

“Me protéger de quoi exactement, Hervé ?” j’ai demandé, “Je ne suis plus une enfant.”

“Je connais ça bien, Leïla. Peut-être que ‘protéger’ n’était pas le bon mot. Je veux m’assurer que tu sois heureuse, c’est tout.”

“Merci, j’e l’apprécie bien, Hervé. Et tu n’as pas tort. Je ne suis pas totalement heureuse mais je ne sais pas pourquoi. Je vais réfléchir un peu. Peut-être que j’essaie de trop faire en ce moment, avec les enfants, mes études, tout ça. Ce n’est pas facile de tout jongler, tu sais,” j’ai admis. “C’est pour cette raison que je suis tellement connaissante d’être ici, avec vous. Je ne peux pas le croire !”

“Profite bien, alors, frangine !” Hervé a dit et il a souri chaleureusement. “Et n’oublie pas qu’on est toujours là pour toi.”

“Merci mon frangin,” je lui ai dit. “Je l’apprécie beaucoup.”

“Right, tell me everything, Hervé. I know you very well and I saw the look between you two. Do you have something to say to me?” I was annoyed, but it’s true I was also a little afraid about what my brother was going to say to me.

“Well, no it’s nothing, Leïla,” he said, but he was blushing a little and was ill at ease. It was obvious.

“Nothing? I saw it, Hervé. In fact, I saw two of them! Why were you looking at each other like that?” I insisted.

“It’s just that you seemed a bit worried about your conversation with Jean-Louis,” he responded.

“And, so?” I asked.

“So, recently, I don’t know how to say this, but Amina and I, we’ve got the impression that perhaps you’re not totally happy,” he admitted. He had a serious expression.

“What do you mean, not happy?” I asked. “Hervé, it’s normal! I have three little kids, my studies and I have a husband who…”

“Who…” repeated Hervé. “Who what, Leïla?”

“A husband who…” I started but I was incapable of finishing the sentence. Who was the woman I heard when I called? Or was I imagining it? Lost in my thoughts, I jumped when my brother took my hand kindly.

“Leïla, listen to me. You said you know me very well. Well, I know you very well, too, you know. I don’t need to know the details, but I want you to know you can always speak to me. I am here for you. Amina, too. We really love you, Leïla, and we don’t want you to be unhappy. It’s one of the reasons we asked you to come with us on this trip. We saw that you weren’t yourself, so we said to ourselves that it would be a good idea for you to come with us to get away from it all for a bit. You’re my little sister and my role is to protect you.”

“Protect me from what exactly, Hervé?” I asked. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“I know that, Leïla. Maybe ‘protect’ wasn’t the right word. I just want to be sure that you’re happy, that’s all.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that, Hervé. And you’re not wrong. I’m not totally happy but I don’t know why. I’m going to think about it a bit. Maybe I’m trying to do too much at the moment, with the children, my studies, all that. It’s not easy to juggle it all, you know,” I admitted. “That’s why I am so grateful to be here, with you. I can’t believe it!”

“So make the most of it, sis!” Hervé said and he smiled warmly. “And don’t forget I’m always there for you.”

“Thanks bro,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

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

Fun French expression: Raconter des salades

From chanter en yaourt*  to tomber dans les pommes*, the French language is awash with whimsical phrases. And, if you’re finding your chat a bit lacking, here’s another fun one to spice up your next conversation: raconter des salades*.  

Directly translated as ‘to tell salads’, this expression dating back to the 19th Century means to spin yarns, tell tall tales or, simply, mentir*.

Pourquoi des salades*? Because they’re made with a mix of colourful ingredients. And, if you racontes des salades*, so is your story. Cute, non*?

PS. Here are a few more handy expressions to have up your sleeve if you think someone is pulling your leg.

Tu racontes des bobards – you’re fibbing
Elle raconte des bêtises – she’s talking nonsense
Il raconte des conneries – he’s bullshitting
Tu racontes des craques – you’re lying

*fake singing/ fudging song lyrics | *fainting | *to spin yarns | *to lie | *Why salads? | *no

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

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, the first chapter of the Intermediate Revision level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“C’est officiel. J’adore Londres !” Hervé a dit, en regardant autour de lui.

“Moi aussi,” Amina a répondu, en buvant son verre de vin blanc. Nous étions assis sur la terrasse d’un petit pub rue Neal avec les enfants. Il faisait beau, il y avait beaucoup de personnes dans les rues du quartier et l’ambience était fantastique.

“C’est tellement agréable d’être ici de nouveau” a continué Amina. “J’ai de très bons souvenirs de cette ville.”

“Et toi, Leïla, tu as passé une bonne journée ?” a demandé mon frère.

“Pardon ?” ai-je dit.

“Ça va, Leïla ? Tu as l’air distrait” a dit Amina, ma belle sœur. “Ou peut-être tu es fatiguée finalement ? Nous avons fait la sieste, mais pas toi. Tu veux rentrer ? On peut manger à l’hôtel si tu veux.”

“Non, c’est gentil, Amina, mais tout va bien. Alors, qu’est-ce qu’on va manger ?” ai-je demandé pour changer le sujet.

“Je peux avoir le poisson et les frites, maman ?” a demandé Anouk.

“Oui, bien sûr, ma chérie… si tu peux le dire en anglais.”

“Je voudrais….ze…feesh and ships, s’il te plaît.”

“Très bien, ma chérie. Je suis fière de toi. Peut-être qu’un jour tu feras un échange ici en Angleterre, comme ta tatie Amina.”

“Les autres enfants te manquent, Leïla ?” a demandé Amina.

“Oui, bien sûr. Elles me manquent beaucoup.”

“Tu leur as parlé aujourd’hui ?” Hervé a demandé.

“Oui, cet après-midi. Enfin, j’ai appelé pour dire coucou mais elles dormaient,” ai-je expliqué.

“Ah, quel dommage, Leïla,” a répondu Amina. “Jean-Louis va bien ? Il a tout sous contrôle ?”

J’ai regardé la carte avec attention et je n’ai rien dit.

“Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?” a demandé Hervé, concerné.

“Ah, ce n’est rien. C’est juste que… ah non, ce n’est pas grave,” ai-je dit, hésitante.

J’ai levé la tête et j’ai vu un regard passer entre Hervé et Amina.

“Quoi ?” ai-je dit. “Pourquoi vous vous regardez comme ça ?”

“On ne se regardait pas, Leïla. De quoi tu parles ? Continue, tu disais quelque chose,” a dit Hervé.

“Ce n’est rien, c’est juste que j’avais l’impression que Jean-Louis ne voulait pas trop me parler,” ai-je admis. J’avais trop peur de leur réaction en disant que j’ai cru entendre la voix d’une femme inconnue quand j’ai appelé.

Hervé et Amina se sont regardés une deuxième fois.

“Et voilà ! Vous venez de vous regarder encore ! Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?” Je devenais un peu agitée.

Amina a rougi, et elle s’est tournée vers les enfants. “Alors qu’est-ce qu’on va manger, les filles ?”

Hervé n’a rien dit.

“Et, alors ?” J’ai regardé Hervé. Tu veux dire quelque chose ? Dis-le, Hervé ! J’ai vu le regard entre vous deux. Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ? Dis-moi !”

“Excusez-moi,” a dit Amina timidement. “Je vais aux toilettes avec les enfants avant que nous mangions.”

“Très bien,” a dit Hervé, et Amina s’est levée et s’est dépêchée d’aller vers les toilettes avec les filles.

“Bon, elle est partie. Dis-moi tout, Hervé.”

“It’s official. I love London!” Hervé said, looking around him.

“Me too,” Amina responded, drinking her glass of white wine. We were seated on the terrace of a pub on Neal Street with the kids. It was nice weather, there were lots of people in the streets of the area and the atmosphere was fantastic. “It’s so nice to be back here again,” continued Amina. “I have very good memories of this city.”

“And you, Leïla, did you have a good day?” asked my brother.

“Sorry?” I said.

“Are you okay, Leïla? You seem distracted,” said Amina, my sister-in-law. “Or maybe you’re tired finally? We had a nap, but not you. Do you want to go back? We can eat at the hotel if you want.”

“No, that’s kind, Amina, but everything’s fine. So, what are we going to eat?” I asked in order to change the subject.

“Can I have the fish and chips, Mum?” asked Anouk.

“Yes, of course, my darling…if you can say it in English.”

“I would like….ze…feesh and ships, please.”

“Very good, my darling. I am proud of you. Maybe one day you’ll do an exchange here in England like your Aunty Amina.”

“Are you missing the other children, Leïla?” asked Amina.

“Yes, of course, I’m missing them a lot.”

“Did you speak to them today?” Hervé asked.

“Yes, this afternoon. Well, I called to say hi but they were sleeping,” I explained.

“Oh, what a shame, Leïla,” responded Amina. “Is Jean-Louis going well? Does he have everything under control?”

I looked at the menu attentively and didn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong?” asked Hervé, concerned.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just that…oh no, it’s not serious,” I said, hesitantly.

I lifted my head and saw a look pass between Hervé and Amina.

“What?” I said. “Why are you looking at each other like that?”

“We weren’t looking at each other, Leïla. What are you talking about? Continue, you were saying something,” Hervé said.

“It’s nothing, it’s just that I had the impression that he didn’t want to talk to me too much,” I admitted. I was too scared of their reaction to say that I thought I heard an unknown woman’s voice when I called.

Hervé and Amina looked at each other a second time.

“And there you go! You’ve just looked at each other again! What is it?” I was becoming a bit agitated.

Amina blushed and she turned towards the children. “So, what are we going to eat, girls?”

Hervé didn’t say anything.

“And, so?” I looked at Hervé. “Do you want to say something? Say it, Hervé! I saw the look between you two. What’s up? Tell me!”

“Excuse me,” said Amina timidly. “I’m going to the toilets with the girls before we eat.”

“Very well”, said Hervé, and Anna got up and hurried towards the toilets with the girls.

“Right, she’s gone. Tell me everything, Hervé.”

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, the final chapter of the Intermediate 3 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

En entrant dans la librairie, j’ai eu le souffle coupé.

“Je crois que je suis au paradis !” je me suis dit. J’ai levé la tête pour voir les cinq étages, totalement bordés de livres de toute sorte.

Tout de suite, un jeune homme s’est approché de moi. “Hello, madam, can I help you at all?”

“Bonjour, euh, pardon…Hello,” j’ai dit en rougissant.

“Vous êtes française, madame ?”

“Oui,” j’ai dit. “Vous aussi ?”

“Non, je suis anglais, mais je parle français aussi,” il a répondu en souriant. “Vous préférez parler en anglais ou en français ?”

Je voulais pratiquer mon anglais (c’était la raison principale pour mon voyage, après tout), mais je me sentais un peu timide, je dois admettre. “French?” j’ai répondu et il a rigolé.

“Oui, bien sûr, madame. Avec grand plaisir.”

“Ah merci, c’est gentil. C’est mon premier jour ici à Londres, et c’est difficile pour moi de trouver les mots en anglais en ce moment.”

“Je comprends totalement, madame. Quand j’ai étudié le français à l’université, nous avons fait un échange en France et je me rappelle très bien de mon premier jour. J’ai eu peur d’ouvrir ma bouche !”

“Mais vous parlez tellement bien français, c’est difficile à croire,” j’ai dit.

“Vous me flattez, madame,” il a dit et j’ai rougi de nouveau.

Pour changer de sujet, je lui ai dit: “Cette librairie est extraordinaire. Cinq étages de livres en anglais, c’est mon rêve !”

“Oui, moi, je l’adore aussi, mais si vous aimez la langue anglaise, vous devez visiter The Bodleian Library à Oxford. C’est magnifique. Il y a plus d’un million de livres.”

“Oh là, là !” je me suis exclamée.

“Oh là, là !” il m’a taquiné, “You really are French ! Si je peux me permettre, comment vous appelez-vous ?” il m’a demandé.

“My name is Leïla,” j’ai dit lentement.

“Well, a pleasure to meet you, Leïla. Je m’appelle Will. À votre service.”

“Enchantée, Will, mais je regarde seulement.”

“C’est dommage,” il a dit et pour la troisième fois depuis cinq minutes, j’ai rougi.

“Je dois…I have to go now,” j’ai dit et je me suis dépêchée vers la porte.

“N’oubliez pas The Bodleian, Leïla !” il a crié “Et profitez de votre temps ici en Angleterre !”

“Oh là, là !” je me suis exclamée de nouveau en fermant la porte. “Ces hommes anglais !”

Je ne savais pas exactement pourquoi, mais tout d’un coup j’avais envie de parler à mes filles.

Il y avait une cabine téléphonique rouge juste à côté de la bibliothèque. J’ai appelé l’hôtel de Jean-Louis, mais le réceptionniste m’a dit qu’il n’était pas là. J’ai décidé d’appeler la maison et j’étais surprise quand il a répondu tout de suite.

“Chéri, c’est moi. Pourquoi tu n’es pas au travail ? Où sont les filles ? Elles sont avec toi ?”

“Ma belle, comment vas-tu? Tout va bien à Londres?” Jean-Louis a demandé. Il avait l’air un peu stressé.

“Oui, super, merci. Mais tout vas bien? Où sont les filles ? Elles sont avec ta mère?”

“Ne t’inquiète pas, Leïla, elles sont ici, avec moi. Nous sommes rentrés pour récupérer plus de vêtements.”

“Oh, elles sont là ? Je peux leur dire coucou ? Elles me manquent tellement.”

“Euh….non, désolée, ma belle, elles dorment.” Jean-Louis avait l’air distrait.

“Elles dorment ? À cinq heures de l’après-midi ?”

Et là, j’ai entendu la voix d’une femme, et ce n’était pas ma belle-mère. 

Upon entering the bookstore, I caught my breath.

“I think I’m in heaven!” I said to myself. I lifted my head to look at the five levels, totally lined with books of all sorts.

Straight away, a young man came up to me. “Hello, madam, can I help you at all?”

“Bonjour, um, sorry…Hello,” I said, blushing.

“Are you French, madam?”

“Yes,” I said. “You too?”

“No, I’m English, but I speak French as well,” he replied, smiling. “Do you prefer to speak in English or in French?”

I wanted to practise my English (it was the main reason for my trip, after all), but I felt a bit shy, I have to admit. “French?” I answered and he laughed.

“Yes, of course, madam. With much pleasure.”

“Oh thank you, that’s kind. It’s my first day here in London, and it’s difficult for me to find the words in English at the moment.”

“I understand totally, madam. When I studied French at university, we did an exchange and I remember very well my first day. I was scared to open my mouth!”

“But you speak French so well, it’s difficult to believe,” I said.

“You flatter me, madam,” he said and I blushed again.

To change the subject, I said to him: “This bookstore is extraordinary. Five levels of books in English, it’s my dream!”

“Yes, I love it, too, but if you like the English language, you must visit the Bodleian Library in Oxford. It’s magnificent. There are more than a million books.”

“Oh là, là !” I exclaimed.

“Oh là, là !” he teased me. “You really are French. If I may allow myself, what is your name?” he asked me.

“My name is Leïla,” I said slowly.

“Well, a pleasure to meet you, Leïla. My name is Will. At your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, Will, but I’m only looking.”

“That’s a shame,” he said and for the third time in five minutes, I blushed.

“Je dois…I have to go now,” I said and I hurried towards the door.

“Don’t forget The Bodleian, Leïla!” he cried, “and make the most of your time here in England!”

“Oh là, là !” I exclaimed to myself again as I closed the door. “These English men!”

I didn’t know exactly why, but all of a sudden I felt like talking to my girls.

There was a red phone box just next to the bookstore.I called Jean-Louis’ hotel but the receptionist told me he wasn’t there. I decided to call the house and I was surprised when he responded straight away.

“Darling, it’s me. Why aren’t you at work? Where are the girls? Are they with you?”

“My beauty, how are you? Is everything going well in London?” Jean-Louis asked. He seemed a bit stressed.

“Yes, great, thanks. But is everything okay? Where are the girls? Are they with your mother?”

“Don’t worry Leïla, they’re here, with me. We came back to pick up some more clothes.”

“Oh, they’re there? Can I say a quick hi? I miss them so much.”

“Um…no, sorry, my beauty, they’re sleeping.” Jean-Louis seemed distracted.

“They’re sleeping? At five o’clock in the afternoon?”

“And then, I heard a woman’s voice, and it wasn’t my mother-in-law’s.

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.

The 15 Hardest French Words to Pronounce

Learning grammar and memorising vocab are tough. But for many of our chouchous*, the biggest challenge of all is mastering French pronunciation.

It’s a problem shared by language learners and this article, ’The 15 Hardest French Words to Pronounce (with English Translations)’, will make you feel seen. If not entirely heard.

This list is by no means definitive, but ne vous inquiétez pas*. Our teachers are busy compiling une liste* of the words Lingua Franca students find the trickiest, plus some essential tips to help you parlez* like pros. Stay tuned.

*teacher’s pets | *don’t worry | *a list | *speak

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

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 3 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

Cinq minutes plus tard, je cherchais toujours mes boucles d’oreilles préférées, mais je ne pouvais pas les trouver.

Soudain, Hervé a crié “Allons-y, Leïla ! On va être en retard.”

“Jean-Louis, tu as vu mes boucles d’oreilles ?” j’ai crié de la chambre.

“Oui, elles sont dans la poche de ma veste, dans l’armoire. Tu me les as données l’autre soir après le dîner avec Noëlle. Tu m’as dit qu’elles te faisaient mal.”

“Ah, oui, tu as raison. Deux minutes !” j’ai répondu.

Mais en cherchant dans la poche, je n’ai rien trouvé. “Quelle veste, Jean-Louis ?” j’ai crié. Je commençais à paniquer.

“Leïla, viens ! On va rater l’avion si tu ne viens pas tout de suite!” a dit Hervé.

“Leïla,” a dit mon mari quand je suis revenue au salon, “encore une fois, ne t’inquiète pas ! Tu as ton passeport ?”

“Bien sûr,” j’ai répondu, “Il est là, dans mon sac à main. J’ai le passeport d’Anouk aussi.”

“Tu as les billets?” Hervé a demandé.

“Oui, je les ai avec les passeports,” j’ai répondu. “Et j’ai les chèques voyage.”

“Bon, tu es prête, alors !” a dit Jean-Louis.

“De toute façon,” a ajouté Hervé, “Amina a beaucoup de boucles d’oreilles. Elle peut te donner une paire.”

“C’est gentil, Hervé, mais ce sont mes préférées ! Ah, zut !”

“Chérie, s’il te plaît, laisse tomber. Pourquoi pas acheter une nouvelle paire à Londres ? Les Anglais ont des boutiques aussi, tu sais,” Jean-Louis a dit, en souriant.

J’étais surprise. Jean-Louis est normalement très prudent avec l’argent.

“Tu es sûr ?” j’ai demandé.

“Pour toi, ma reine, oui, je suis certain.”

“Merci beaucoup, chéri,” j’ai dit, touchée. Jean-Louis était vraiment très cool à propos de ce voyage, je me suis dit. “C’est très gentil. De toute façon, je les ai probablement mises dans ma valise par accident.”

Jean-Louis a souri, il m’a prise dans ses bras, et on s’est embrassés.

“Allez, ça suffit, vous deux. Il y a un avion qui nous attend. Allez, hop ! Dans la voiture !”

“Tu vas me manquer. Fais bon voyage, Leïla,” a dit mon mari.

“Merci, mon amour,” j’ai répondu avec des larmes aux yeux.

J’ai oublié le mauvais pressentiment et j’ai suivi mon frère vers la porte.

Five minutes later, I was still looking for my favourite earrings, but I couldn’t I find them.

Suddenly, Hervé yelled out “Let’s go, Leïla! We’re going to be late.”

“Jean-Louis, have you seen my earrings? I shouted from the bedroom.

“Yes, they’re in my jacket pocket, in the wardrobe. You gave them to me the other night after the dinner with Noëlle. You said they were hurting you.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right. Two minutes!” I responded.

But in searching the pocket, I didn’t find anything. “Which jacket, Jean-Louis?” I cried. I was starting to panic.

“Leïla, come on! We’re going to miss the plane if you don’t come straight away!” Hervé said.

“Leïla,” said my husband when I came back into the living room, “once again, don’t worry! Do you have your passport?”

“Of course,” I responded. “It’s here, in my handbag. I have Anouk’s passport as well.”

“Do you have the tickets?” Hervé asked.

“Yes, I have them with the passports,” I said. “And I have the travellers’ cheques.”

“Right, so you’re ready, then!” said Jean-Louis.

“In any case,” Hervé added, “Amina has lots of earrings. She can give you a pair.”

“That’s nice of you, Hervé, but they’re my favourites! Oh, damn!”

“Darling, please, drop it. Why not buy a new pair in London? The English have shops as well, you know,” Jean-Louis said, smiling.

I was surprised. Jean-Louis is usually very careful with money.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“For you, my queen, I am certain.”

“Thank you very much, darling,” I said, touched. Jean-Louis was really cool about this trip, I said to myself. “That’s really kind of you. In any case, I probably put them in my suitcase by accident in any case.”

Jean-Louis smiled, he took me in his arms and we kissed.

“Okay, that’s enough, you two. We have a plane waiting for us. Come on, let’s go. In the car!”

“I’m going to miss you. Have a good trip, Leïla,” my husband said.

“Thank you, my love,” I responded with tears in my eyes.

I forgot the bad feeling and I followed my brother towards the door.

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

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 3 level.

*The Little Story | *The Prequel

“D’accord, maman !” ma fille m’a répondu et elle a quitté la chambre. “Papa, tu es où ? Je vais à Londres et je veux dire au revoir !”

Finalement, j’étais toute seule pour la première fois de la matinée. J’ai poussé un soupir de soulagement. J’étais surprise de remarquer que même après ça, je me sentais toujours mal à l’aise. “C’est normal, Leila,” je me suis dit. “C’est la première fois que tu voyages sans tous les enfants. Elles vont beaucoup te manquer .”

Si je suis honnête, j’étais un peu anxieuse de laisser les filles avec Jean-Louis, même si sa mère allait l’aider. C’est leur père, c’est vrai, mais mon mari à la tendance à travailler très, très dur, donc il ne passe pas beaucoup de temps avec nos filles. Et le fait que sa mère vienne pour l’aider lui donne l’excuse parfaite pour travailler encore plus.

Mais même en admettant tout ça, j’étais toujours un peu inquiète. Je ne savais pas pourquoi, mais j’avais un mauvais pressentiment.

Je ne pouvais pas y réfléchir plus, parce que tout d’un coup, j’ai entendu la voix de mon frère. “Tu es prête, frangine?”

“Oui, frérot, j’arrive. Deux minutes !”

J’ai fini de fermer ma valise et je suis entrée dans le salon. Tout le monde était là. 

Jean-Louis parlait à Hervé et Anouk jouait avec ses sœurs et ses cousines, Sara et Mina.

“Bon, on est prêts pour le grand voyage ?” a demandé mon frère.

“Oui, tout à fait,” j’ai répondu. “Chéri, n’oublie pas qu’il y a une quiche pour vous dans le frigo pour ce soir. Vous restez ici ce soir, non ?”

“Ne t’inquiète pas, Leïla, ça va aller. Demain, on va à l’hôtel avec grand-mère. Vous avez hâte de la voir, les filles ?” Jean-Louis a demandé à Céline et Vivienne.

Mais les petites étaient trop occupées avec leurs cousines pour lui répondre.

“Ah, un instant, j’ai oublié mes boucles d’oreilles préférées. Je reviens tout de suite.” j’ai dit et je suis retournée à la chambre pour les chercher.

“Okay, Mum!” my daughter replied and she left the room. “Dad, where are you?” I’m going to London and I want to say goodbye!”

Finally, I was alone for the first time that morning. I let out a sigh of relief. I was surprised to notice that even after that I still felt ill at ease. “It’s normal, Leïla,” I said to myself. “It’s the first time you’re travelling without all the children. You’re going to miss them a lot.”

If I’m honest, I was a bit anxious about leaving the girls with Jean-Louis, even if his mother was going to help him. He’s their father, it’s true, but my husband has the tendency to work very, very hard, so he doesn’t spend a lot of time with our girls. And the fact his mother is coming to help him gives him the perfect excuse to work even more.

But even in admitting that, I was still a little worried. I didn’t know why, but I had a bad feeling.

I couldn’t think about it any more, because all of a sudden, I heard my brother’s voice. “You ready, sis?”

“Yes, bro, I’m coming. Two minutes!”

I finished closing my suitcase and I went into the living room. Everyone was there.

Jean-Louis was speaking to Hervé and Anouk was playing with her sisters and cousins, Sara and Mina.

“Right, are we ready for the big trip?” asked my brother.

“Yes, absolutely,” I responded. “Darling, don’t forget there is a quiche for you in the fridge for tonight. You’re staying here tonight, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Leïla, it’s all going to be fine. Tomorrow, we’re going to the hotel with Grandma. Are you keen to see her, girls?” Jean-Louis asked Céline and Vivienne.

But the little ones were too busy with their cousins to answer.

“Oh, one sec, I’ve forgotten my favourite earrings. I’ll be back straight away,” I said and I returned to the bedroom to look for them.

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