I’ve thrown myself out of a plane from 10,000 feet. Completed an open-water, mile-plus swim – without water wings. Even periodically admitted to my wife that I forgot to take out the trash. But as I stepped through the doorway towards my latest adventure, I knew there was no turning back. Welcome to French 101.
It has been a couple of decades since my last collegiate course, and as I took my seat near the back of the classroom, the tank-top, flip-flop-clad students warily eyed me as if I were an unwelcome parent crashing the party. Little wonder I guess because these kids were only a couple of years older than my son. And the spit-up stains on my shirt from a fast-paced day spent with my baby daughter while working from home instantly labeled me an outsider – a stranger in a strange land.
Thankfully, just as class was about to begin, a disheveled-looking man rushed into the room who appeared to be only slightly younger than myself. Finally, I thought, another fellow adult in search of knowledge – I was not alone. Then he introduced himself as the professor. Ouch.
My intrigue for the French language had been born during an incredible adventure to France that my wife and I had shared a couple of years ago (watch for a blog story, coming soon). To prepare for our trip, I had dutifully listened to my “Learn French While You Drive” CDs. Unfortunately, the extent of my lingual skills consisted of simply being able to say hello or ask where the bathroom was – important, yet limited, vocabulary. I was ready to learn more and push my comfort zone and this class will definitely help me achieve those goals.
Since the class meets only one night a week (plus a weekly Internet session), the “learning” – or at least teaching – commenced at a breakneck pace. Paired into small groups we worked on simple words, phrases, and pronunciation. Then something miraculous happened. I’m not sure whether I was a sacrificial lamb or actually showed potential but my group selected me to represent them to stand and read aloud a page of text. After nervously stammering through the last line, “J’ai une pomme” (I have an apple), they all smiled and golf-clapped their approval. Tres bien!
Just before the end of class, a young woman’s cell phone startled everyone, loudly ringing out with the latest rap tune. She seemed completely unconcerned. The professor tersely asked if she was going to silence the annoying menace and she coldly replied, “Non.” Wow. Seemingly at a loss, the professor quickly looked to me as if seeking the moral support of the only other adult in the class. I simply looked away. I wasn’t going to betray one of my own. No matter what my age, I was now one of them. Just label me, Jeff Roberts, collegiate French student.
Talk to you soon. Until, then pick up the pace and run your own race. Au revior!
- Jeff
2 comments:
Having returned to college about 11 years ago as a "non-tradional" student, I know how you feel! Although I was only about 10 years older than the other students, I was definitely an outsider. Luckily, there were others like me in my education classes. We were tolerated by the younger crowd, but not always appreciated. My favorite line by one of my younger classmates was "You old people always ruin the curve!" in reference to the fact that the "old" students usually received an A on most tests/projects. You tend to work a little harder when you're paying the tuition bill yourself. One last thing Jeff, your classmates may pick you to represent the group, but you will never be "one of them"! Sorry!
Bonjour, Lisa - Thanks for bringing me back down to earth. (Talk about stealing someone's joy!) Au revoir!
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