Well, this is it. Tomorrow I fly to France and start my new job as an English language assistant.
Two weeks ago, I started to compose a blog post called “On
Being Afraid.” It was about all the fears I have going into TAPIF, fears
that are in fact even greater than when I went on Semester at Sea. It’s hard to
believe given that deep water is my biggest fear, and I willingly chose to put
myself on a ship for three months and cross the deep deep Atlantic Ocean. But
it’s true. I had a few general fears before beginning Semester at Sea, but I
knew I would be safe with friends and professors. I knew I would be missed if I
showed up to the ship past the time we were due to sail on to the next port. I
was not worried for that journey the way I am worried now.
It was poetic, this blog post I composed. It was about all
the fears I have going into TAPIF, and how even still, it’s something I choose
to do. It was about how I truly believe the most important thing in life is
doing the things that scare us. For only then do we feel alive, and only in
being afraid can we experience that beautiful relief washing over us, that
euphoria, when everything eventually goes all right.
But I scrapped it.
It was too poetic, too tender and out of place on the blog,
and anyways, I’m no poet.
Despite scrapping my blog post on “fears and how to conquer
them,” I do have one last fear before leaving for France tomorrow. One that’s a
little lighter, one that I’m willing to share:
It has to do with actually speaking French.
It’s most people’s first question when I tell them I am
going to teach in France for seven months. “Oh, well do you speak French?” they
immediately ask. Usually I am surprised, because that’s not the first thing I’d
ask. I guess I would just assume that someone spending that long in France
actually speaks French, although I know that’s not necessarily the case for a
lot of people and programs out there. But alas, I smile and shrug and say, “a
bit,” which I hope conveys the two years of middle school, four years of high
school and four years of college I’ve spent trying to learn the language.
The problem is, while I’ve been learning French for quite a
while, I’m plagued with two issues. First, I have a terrible memory in general.
I could spend months learning something only to forget it all within the next
year, which is actually not great when it comes to this very pricey education I
now have. Second, and perhaps more importantly, my knowledge of conversational
French is quite limited.
It seems like it shouldn’t be possible, after 10 years of
French. But once entering college, my French became a bit… specialized. In 307,
we read an entire book from the first-person perspective of a tree. For that
semester I gained a very good vocabulary of words like branch, limb, trunk,
bark, apple tree, pear tree, fertile soil, you name it, words that I’m now not
sure what to do with (the words I remember, anyway). In my “Love Stories” class
we read La Dame aux Camélias and I learned ten different types of prostitutes, and
the proper words to describe them all. I can't help but hope those words aren't a part of my daily vocabulary this year. I had the most wonderful teachers and I
learned the most fascinating, valuable things, but now that I’m about to spend
all this time in France, I’m worried about certain practical matters.
For instance:
A few days ago I decided to try to set my French cell phone
service up from the States, just to see if I could. I had some issues charging
my credit card, and I ended up having to call customer service. (It was
actually very neat, if you do it over your computer you can basically Skype
with someone in customer service and they can send you helpful links - very cool).
So, the video starts up and this beautiful woman of color
smiles at me and asks me, in French, what problems I’m having.
I smile and say bonjour, and then pause, because I don’t
really know any other relevant greetings. Do
I say comment ca va? Ask her how she is? No, we’re not two friends catching up. Let’s just move on.
I describe the issue in detail and she gives me a funny
look, but I continue on in my valiant charge to do the best I can. Man, why do I have all this tree vocabulary
and nothing for dealing with customer service???
As I finish a very awkward recounting of my technological woes, she looks at me for a long minute, taking it all in. She's a little hesitant, probably from having to parse through a complete butchering of her language.
Finally: “Ok... oui, I think I have an idea,” she says in French. “There were some words I didn’t understand, but I think I know what the issue is.”
Finally: “Ok... oui, I think I have an idea,” she says in French. “There were some words I didn’t understand, but I think I know what the issue is.”
I feel like laughing, but I just smile because I know it
would be an anxious, desperate laugh, and that would be creepy. “Oui,” I say,
c’est probablement parce que j’ai inventé quelques mots.” I made up most of the
words in that story.
We fumbled through a solution despite my abysmal language
abilities, and finally got to the goodbyes, where I simply repeated
everything she said because I didn’t know what to say. Right down to, “I hope
this was helpful for you, too.” No, Nicole. Just repeat the parts where she
says “Au revoir” and say “I hope you have a nice day, too.”
We hung up and I looked up all the words I had essentially
invented on the spot. Much like I thought, the real words for “charge” and
“cancel payment” were nothing like the ones I was trying to use.
I felt this heavy feeling sink over me, realizing the next
seventh months were about to be me trying to get people to understand words I’d
made up in my head. At the same time, though – isn’t this why I want to go? To
fumble around until finally, hopefully, I develop some sense of understanding?
Although over the past couple of weeks I've had many fears going into TAPIF, right now I’m
mostly excited, and hopeful. Yes, I will butcher a beautiful language. But I
will teach English, and learn French, and get to know people and drink fine
wine and explore a gorgeous countryside. And when I come back? I’ll know how to
say “tree roots” and chat with a local.
I leave for this journey tomorrow, September 26th.
I hope you will join me and read along.
Best,
Nicole
