Taking lessons in a foreign language is generally assumed to be the best way to learn it. Initially I, too, had made this fallacious assumption and decided to enrol in an introductory French course. The urge to learn French seems to run deep in the subterranean level of the English psyche, because no sooner had I announced my intention to enrol in a French class that several of my friends decided to do likewise. Great, I thought, we can do homework together and generally encourage each other. Full of hope and expectations I signed up for the class and paid my fees upfront.
Unfortunately my friends’ enthusiasm was short-lived. Having encouraged me to go ahead with the venture, they considered their job done, and left me to it, never signing up to the course themselves. Never mind, I thought, I have enthusiasm for three and brains for five, so I’ll crack this French thing – in a year or two I’ll be reading Le Monde!
Eager to get a head start before classes began, I bought all the books needed for the course and settled down to do some serious studying. That’s when I discovered that the books were all in French. No English whatsoever. Apparently that’s the new modern method of teaching languages. The theory goes that if you force someone to read enough words in a foreign language, eventually the penny will drop and they’ll end up being fluent.
Before the course even started I had read all the books cover to cover – twice. And understood nothing. Oh well, I thought, that’s why I am taking a class – the teacher will explain things to me! I put the books aside and waited for the classes to begin.
The teacher was adorable and taught me my first French insult in break time: Mechant Crapaud (Nasty toad). Unfortunately she taught French the modern way. She spoke almost exclusively in French for most of the class, so I understood nothing. Then she played us a story on tape, also in French. I understood nothing. Then she taught us some grammar, which I immediately forgot – I always forget grammar, it is my one intellectual defect.
The second part of the lesson was different. We were divided into groups and told to talk to each other in French. Unfortunately we spoke either no French at all or very bad French with a heavy English accent, so succeeded only in contaminating each others scant French even further.
I stuck it out for three or four lessons, and then dropped out. I had learned nothing, absolutely nothing. It was a thoroughly dispiriting experience. I had hoped for something along the lines of this: This is a knife! C’est un couteau. See this fist? Voir cet poing? You get the idea. Simple useful words in easy sentences, said in both English and French, and repeated until they became firmly entrenched in my memory banks.
After I dropped out I tried to do lessons at home, by listening to the CDs by Michel Thomas, who teaches languages by the deductive method. It is a good method, and I did manage to remember a little, but his bullying and patronising manner put me off, and after the second CD I stopped listening. I also found his accent rather annoying – I already have traces of German, English, and American accents, the last thing I need is a Polish one to contaminate my French even further.
I did obtain another CD of introductory French, which used English to explain the French I was supposed to learn, and I managed to absorb a modicum of French. Again, no grammar, but I learned to count and say a few simple sentences after having listened to the CD about twenty five times. Not a total loss, but considering that I longed to discuss Kant’s categorical imperative and world trade with my French friends not very satisfactory, either.
I finally concluded that taking French lessons, whether in a class or by interacting with a CD, was not a good way for me to learn French. But, ever undaunted, I had already identified another method of (not) learning French. Stay tuned for the next instalment!
