Profiting from time abroad

     A few weeks ago, in music class, my son was chastised in front of the class for not having memorized the answers to a quiz.  When he indicated that his French wasn't yet strong enough to have completed the assignment, the teacher asked him how long he'd been in France.  He said two months (though he'd only been in school for about a month at that point) and the teacher said, "You must profit from your time!  Profit James, profit!"  Apparently, the exchange has continued, with the music teacher calling him up first last week and telling him that he's not really benefitting from this opportunity, because he hasn't learned enough French.
      This demonstrates that James and the teacher have rather different understandings of what it means to profit from time abroad as well as what James' "job" is here.  Overall, all the kids' teachers have been pretty understanding of the fact that they came knowing no French and that they're trying but that they don't yet know much.  However, I expect that it's hard for many of the teachers to see them making reasonably little progress in French, as it seems like they must not be learning anything about France.  Of course, that's not true.  They are picking up lots of French -- though nothing systematic -- and they are learning a great deal about social expectations, cuisine (school lunches are an entirely different animal here!), and playground games (marbles!), just to mention a few things.  They will not go back to the United States the same as when they left, whether they can carry on a conversation in French or not.

What the Fulbright is actually for

     Even though my youngest is having "adjustment issues," I've finally got all the kids in school and I'm back to real history work.  This week, I've gotten some great work done on my literature chapter and had a wonderful and productive coffee with a colleague who works on young girls and religious life in nineteenth-century France.  She's offered to facilitate some introductions for me, as well, should I need them.  It feels good to be moving forward in more than a linguistic way! 
     Of course, linguistic progress continues, too.  In addition to conversations with the electrician and the plumber, I had a nice chat with the telephone shop girl, who discussed linguistic pedagogy with me.  (She confirmed that I have an accent but complimented my command of French.)

The machines are conspiring against us

   I thought I might learn a new set of vocabulary on this trip.  Having my kids with me, I figured I might need to learn phrases like "cough syrup" or "gummy bears" or even "I'm so sorry for the loud noises; my kids are used to living in a house.  I will try to teach them better.  They aren't actually animals."
  I didn't foresee sentences like "The dishwasher won't drain," and "The electricity seems to be out in the entire apartment; I think a fuse blew, but I'm not sure where."
  So today, I'm waiting for the electrician.  (The dishwasher was last week and is now fixed.)  The washing-machine is tripping a breaker, so it's off...but that means that the refrigerator and the dishwasher are off, too.  (Dishwasher being of substantially less importance than the refrigerator and the washing machine!)
   But I learned that you might say that someone who gets really angry "blows a fuse" in French, too.

The universal language of insecurity

     When I was talking to some fellow travelers on the train from Lyon to Toulouse, one of the French women in the seat next to me observed that "The French are well-known for not having good language skills."  I kind of goggled at her and told her that was not my impression at all, and that I had the impression that France was not at all known for a lack of language facility, especially when compared to the United States.  Another woman chimed in and said that she agreed with the first woman and that though students study language, their study tends to be formal and written, so that many French people are not facile speakers and are uncomfortable about speaking foreign languages.
     I have had a couple of other conversations like that since then, with French speakers expressing their discomfort with their English language skills -- when in fact, most of the time, I hope I sound as fluent as they do! 
     Today, I hurried out to the courtyard in order to run into the woman who lives in the apartment above ours as she was walking her dog.  My kids have been playing in the garden and, from time to time, making enough noise that her dog (a smallish dog, maybe a Yorkie) yaps loudly at them.  I wanted to catch her in time to introduce myself, apologize for the noise, and make it clear that I'm trying to get the kids to keep it down.  Also, I planned to mention that the kids don't speak French, so if they're in the garden, they can't really understand anything that is said to them.  (Just in case she decided to tell them to keep it down and thought they were ignoring her or something...)    She was not only exceptionally kind about all of it -- mostly a "kids will be kids, and sometimes dogs will yap" response -- but she wanted to warn me about a couple of places in the garden that she thought were a bit dangerous (and why).  As we spoke, I made my usual apology for not always having access to the right words, etc., and she smiled kindly and said, "I would be happy to speak English as well as you speak French!"  We haven't spoken English yet, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out that in fact, she does speak English as well as I speak French.  It's nice to know that I'm not alone in my insecurity, though!

Are you German?

At least three times in the past month, when I've told someone that my French is imperfect and asked someone to speak more slowly so that I could catch all of what they said, I've had them stop and look at me and say, "Are you German?"  When I say, "No, I'm American," they seem surprised.  I am sure that some of it is that there are more tourists in Lyon from Germany than from the United States, but some of it may also be that they don't expect Americans to speak French.  In either case, it may indicate that my accent is not as terrible as I thought (or differently terrible).