The French book I found at the brocante was titled, "I Shall Read". The images are just too dang cute. When I found it I thought what darling wallpaper it would make. I have a thing about using old paper as wall paper. The second thing I thought… was a flood of memories when Chelsea and Sacha were mere wee ones. They grew up bi-lingual.
When Chelsea went to first grade, I thought how was I going to help her learn her spelling words, or listen to her read since I could not read or write French myself? Imagine your child reading a language you barely understand.
It was an education in humbleness.
"Mommy, are you trying to say "jAune" with an A, or "jEune" with an E?
"I am saying the one with an A."
"Oh okay, the one with an "A" is J-A-U-N-E, that means yellow, the other one sounds similar but it means people."
"Oh thanks, I knew that, but I pronounced it badly."
"That's okay mommy, you are a good learner, like me!"
Gulp.
And so I started to learn how to read a French first grader's book when I was 38 years old with the best teacher in my five year old daughter.
Living in a foreign country without speaking the language was a challenge. The simplest things became mountains to climb. How to ask for something without words, or how to ask for something with only the few words I had in my pocket.
Pointing was a good tool.
Smiling was a good tool.
Not feeling stupid took courage and grace.
And using my children to do my bidding help.
How does it feel to be a child growing up with a parent who doesn't speak their other mother tongue?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFlxDuNC6OU
I cried watching it.
back in 1996-
Sacha and I were at the hairdresser's. I was looking at a magazine. Sacha was checking out his surroundings. The women waiting, were admiring Sacha's curls and his perfect English vocabulary.
"Mommy, do you know how to say, "haircut" in French?" Sacha had something up his sleeve, I could tell by the twinkle of mischief in his eye.
"Oh no, I don't. What am I going to do when it is my turn?" I lied.
"Do you want me to tell you how to say, haircut in French?"
"Please, Sacha you are so helpful." I couldn't wait to hear his reply.
He leaned in closely, whispered in my ear, "Just say, rouge!"
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"Rouge", means "Red" in French. Rouge, which at the time was the "in" color to dye ones hair and Sacha's favorite color.
Do you speak French?
If so you know the three words written below:
Chapon Rouge,
Moulin Rouge
Haricot Rouge.
When I met Yann he did not speak English, and I did not speak French.
Yes, it was tad hard to communicate. You might say it was the language of love. Which it was with a lot of sign language.
After one year of living in the States, Yann was speaking English.
We moved to France.
I thought that when we arrived in France, Yann would speak to me in French.
But no.
We kept on speaking English.
I gathered French words here and there.
At the grocery store, at the post office, at a dinner party…
The first words I learned were basic:
Merci = Thank you.
Bonjour = Hello.
Combien = How much?
Oui = Yes.
Sortie = Exit.
Rue = Street.
Enchanté… Which I heard people say to me when they first met me. "Nice to meet you."
Learning French was not easy. It was frustrating. I was frustrated. Twenty five years ago when I would ask a French storekeeper, or someone on the street, "Parlez-vous Anglais?" They gave me a frustrating, "Non." Smiling was not in their vocabulary.
Yann kept speaking English to me. His English improved and my French, well, did not.
A few years later we had some babies.
I wanted them to speak English, to be bi lingual.
If you have ever lived in a bi lingual household you know the gift and the grit of daily conversation. Yann spoke French to the children, as did the rest of the land. I spoke English to them. I soon learned that if my children were to be completely bi lingual I was going to have to talk, and talk alot. Otherwise their vocabulary was going to be limited to: Get yours shoes. Come and eat. Button your coat. Sit still. Go to sleep. Yes, no, please…"
I read books. Many of them. Suitcases full of books.
Chelsea and Sacha are utterly bi lingual. Flawlessly. No accents. It is my pride and joyous accomplishment. During that time my French took a back seat.
I could go on and on, story after story, day after day, gift and grit of learning French while, teaching English to two little people.
But I will save that for another day.
I speak French. With the heaviest of accents,
but understandable nevertheless.
Though the real challenge isn't the speaking part, it is the feeling that I am not me. I feel like I am a different person…
Really weird.
French lessons. I should have taken a few of those before I came to France. Unfortunately, I learned to speak French on the streets. The words you can pick up on the street can be very…. um…. flavorful to say the least. Mostly, I learned how to speak French at the brocante. Later it improved when I was ill… being ill in a foreign country can encourage one to learn the language quickly.
Though my French has taken me a few years to grasp, my accent has remained strong and steady. It is something that just sticks around.
Kind of like an old coat, loved-worn and true.
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