Six Things Learning French Taught Me . . . (Other Than How to Say “Parlez vous Anglais?”)

I felt like a proper part of the community when I was invited to afternoon tea in a small French village to aid the local animal shelter. And that was exactly what I’d wanted from this journey. OK, this particular village was so full of English, it was easy to forget you were in France, but still.

Surrounded by new friends, I almost forgot my tendency toward social awkwardness as I took my seat under the watchful gaze of an adorable puppy and marvelled at the hostess’s effortless transition from fluent French to English. She floated through the crowd defining native French and English speakers with coloured stickers. It was a thoughtful gesture I’d thought . . . until she addressed the room.

The puppy faded into the background and she raised her voice over the idle chatter, explaining that this afternoon was about developing language skills. My eyes grew wide. We would spend ten minutes conversing in French, then ten in English. There would be a brief reprieve during which comfort food would be provided and then the horror would begin again. My eyes darted for the door. I’d been learning French for a grand total of three months . . . from a podcast. But from the mumbles around me, I wasn’t the only one taken by surprise. I slumped into my chair. Maybe this was exactly the opportunity I needed to put my learnings into practice . . . because what I’d learnt amounted to so much more that just grammar and vocabulary.

1. It’s Easy to Allow Fear to Come Between You and . . . well Everything

I glanced at the grey-haired lady next to me, my head short-circuiting with a fountain of French words. I could’ve asked where she was from, what she did in life or how she came to be here. As infantile as it may have been, I knew enough French, yet instead of speaking I stared down at the table and twirled my scarf in my hand. I looked up and she gave me an awkward smile. The ridiculousness of the situation struck me. We were as embarrassed as each other, yet instead of ceasing the opportunity to grow, we sought shelter in the relative safety of our fear . . . God forbid we should make fools of ourselves by trying.

The awkwardness passed when, well into our allotted timeframe, my partner bravely began to speak. With little effort the conversation flowed. She corrected my sentences and I corrected hers, but the meanings were clear. We could communicate. And I had met an inspirational woman, but only through the process of overcoming my unfounded fears.

2. How Little I Know of My Own Language

“Present Perfect,” my new friend smiled as she corrected her own English – and labelled it.

“Right,” I gave a slow nod. What the hell was ‘present perfect’?

As a writer, I’m ashamed to admit, I had no idea what perfect and imperfect tenses were. Sure, I knew nouns, verbs and adjectives. At a stretch I could even tell you what a pronoun was. But a demonstrative adjective? A past participle? An infinitive? And seriously, what the hell was a conjugation? More to the point, how did these non-native English speakers know how to use them yet I didn’t?

Perhaps some terms are irrelevant in English grammar, or perhaps they’re something we take for granted having learnt them from a young age, but never having labelled them. Either way, learning French has taught me that it’s time I polished up on the technicalities of my own language.

3. Small Steps Lead to Big Things

There have been days I’ve feared Coffee Break French. That I’ve been afraid the podcast was about to make my brain explode . . . literally. Every verb has a million forms, depending on who’s doing the doing, and rarely does a phrase effortlessly translate from English. (I don’t brush my teeth in French, I brush the teeth to myself.) Then there’s idiomatic French. The type of phrases we take for granted in our own language, but a foreigner would never understand. (Seriously, what does the Aussie slang ‘died in the arse’ mean?)

On the rare occasion I’ve felt confident enough to speak, I’ve usually been assaulted by a peppering of words that have left me sporting a dumb stare and feeling like, actually, I know nothing. Some days, it’s easy to believe I’ll never speak French.

Yet as I munched on comfort food and shared stories with the grey-haired lady, it was clear just how far I’d come. In three short months I’d gone from the obligatory please and thank-you, to having a meaningful conversation. It may be a while until I’m speaking fluent French, but every step is getting me closer than I was yesterday.

4. “Arrogance” is a Narrow Minded Label

“The French are arrogant. They can speak English, only they choose not to.” We’ve all heard this. On travel forums, from friends, maybe even experienced it ourselves. You’ve asked a question, they’ve clearly understood, you’re desperate for the response, only they insist on saying it in French . . . that you obviously don’t understand. You can get around it if you just try to speak French, apparently. They’ll reward you with a response in English, but that’s pure arrogance right?

Only what if it wasn’t?

I can sing, but wouldn’t bust out my shower-time karaoke in front of Kylie Minogue. And I can ‘speak’ French, but if someone walked up to me, launched into a deluge of it, then awaited a response I wouldn’t be rushing to pull out my toddler-level language skills . . . no matter how much I’d understood, and regardless of how much I wanted to help. What if the French ‘refusal’ to speak English came from a place of self-consciousness rather than arrogance? What if our attempts to speak their language weren’t being ‘rewarded’, but simply provided reassurance that their efforts weren’t about to be judged.

Maybe some Frenchies are arrogant . . . just like some Aussies. Maybe they really do think their language is the best in the world and everyone should speak it . . . but maybe some are just self-conscious like the rest of us.

5. We all Learn Differently

It was Colby’s idea to learn French, and it was a good one. If we were going to be spending time in the home of cycling, why wouldn’t we learn the language. So Colby downloaded the lessons, and kicked off the learning. Only by lesson ten, Coffee Break French was maddening him instead of inspiring him. And while I was stumbling through basic conversations, he was struggling to find the words for “A coffee please.”

I could’ve found it heartening that I was ‘better’ than him, but I didn’t. Instead I was heartened by the realisation that we all learn differently. For years I’d admired Colby as an engineer. If I’d had half the technical skills and problem solving ability that he did I would’ve been proud. But I didn’t have the head for calculations and as a result, I lost my passion. I’d always been better at English (even if I didn’t know what present perfect tense was) yet I struggled through life as an engineer. And while I was forcing my star shape into the square hole, I was missing out on the opportunity to celebrate things I was actually good at.

6. Empathy

I’m ashamed to admit, I’m the first to roll my eyes when I see ‘except’ written in place of ‘accept’, and ‘your’ confused with ‘you’re’. (I hate to imagine how many typos I might overlook in my own work!) Scrolling through the comments on a PerthNow article recently, someone had politely put my judgemental thoughts into words . . . and I was filled with empathy at the response. The original poster had replied with a ‘thank-you.’ English was her second language and she appreciated comments that helped her improve. I thought back to the million different French verb forms and unfamiliar sentences. My French was a long way from the almost-perfect sentence she had written in English, yet I’d been quick to scoff at a small mistake.

It’s easy to make uneducated judgements, not only about writing and grammar but about anything our fellow humans do. Its not until we find ourselves in their shoes that we can start to empathise. That we’re challenged to see things from another point of view. Learning French is hardly a feat in bravery, but it has reminded me to reserve my judgements, and have empathy for a background I may not know.

Learning another language may not interest everyone. Some people may be more inclined to a sport, or art, or science. But I challenge everyone to step out of their comfort zone, learn a new skill, and become vulnerable in some small facet of life. You might just learn a whole lot more than you bargained for.