On y va!

Every morning before French class, we greet each other with cheerful "bonjour"s and "ca va"s.  There are about twenty of us, surprisingly close in age but from completely different backgrounds, united by a single purpose.  

There are those who are married to Frenchmen and want to be able to communicate with their in-laws, two girls who are going to France in September to study pastry making, a young sommelier, and Edie and I, there because we think it's beautiful.  And it is beautiful.  Really tough, but beautiful.

Every time I encounter frustration in conjugating verbs or trying to remember the appropriate article for masculine or feminine objects, I learn something that submerges the frustration in awe.  Today, it was the moment we were taught that a "lucky draw" is called a "tirage au sort".  Literally translated, it means "pull your fate".  Last night, Shirin, who is extremely fluent, told us that "I miss you" is "Tu me manques".  The order of the words is different from the English (You, to me, are missing) she said, because that it means that you are missing from me, thereby implying that I am incomplete. 

And that's more or less why I've always wanted to learn this language.  Because it sounds pretty, but it means pretty too.  Sure, it's confusing that everything has a gender, but it's also whimsical and poetic that, for example, the sea is a woman and happiness a man.  

On top of that, apart from English and Mandarin, which I absorbed when I was too young to remember it, this is the first time I'm formally learning a language from scratch.  As an English tutor, it's fascinating.  I've always wondered how people would teach someone a language that they didn't know at all.  And I've never been so aware (or respectful) of grammar before.  

Mostly, I'm just happy to be a student again.  A teacher needs to be on the ball; in complete control of every aspect of the lesson and watching everyone out of the corner of each eye.  In this class, I just need to be a massive sponge.  I can write notes with my own unintelligible musings, pronounce things to myself as many times as I want, turn things over in my head again and again. 

Edie and I have lots of fun practicing random verbs and senseless questions.  After class, we wander round separately, speaking French in our heads.  As I was walking the dog today, I had an entire conversation with myself about a writing instrument.  

"Where is the pen?  He has the pen.  Do you have a pen?  Yes, I have a pen.  What is this?  It is a pen.  But where is the pen?  She has the pen.  Does she have the pen?  No, I have the pen."

Then, I turned my attention to singing.  

"Do you sing?  Yes, I sing.  Where do you sing?" and so on.

I love it.

I look forward to class every day.  For some people, it seems like a meeting point of their hopes and plans.  For others, a celebration of the ability to speak, read, understand, dream.

...And also, on a more shallow note, I get to use my amazeballs new Smiggle crayon highlighters.  Why didn't I have these growing up so my stupid leftie writing wouldn't keep smearing fluorescent yellow and green up to my elbows?

Now if only I could do something about the teensy right-handed writing desks they have in class...