"Je parle un peu français lentement"

Bonjour all. I thought to give a quick update since I have yet to work out a structured time to write. I am still adjusting to my new schedule; since I tend to wake up early by nature, it's hard for me to force myself to sleep in so I'm not completely dragging at the end of my evening shift.

The new job continues to be quite a bit of fun and I am loving the daily challenge. Not only am I learning a lot of new information about the job itself, I am also forced to learn and use French on a daily basis. This alone has been worth it all. The nature of the job has forced me to simply communicate, and I'll admit, it is not always pretty, but more often than not, I get the job done. (Admittedly, there have been a few times where I find myself completely lost in a conversation and must call for the kindhearted French interns for backup--they always rush in to save the day.) Indeed, I work with a beautiful group of people.

One of the most defiant obstacles on my journey in French is my stubborn perfectionism. Often, even when I studied in Montpellier, the normal flow of conversation would have already moved to the next topic while my brain was still trying to conjugate a sentence correctly before I said it! That makes for good grades on tests, but it sucks in conversation. It has been a tendency that I have found difficult to overcome, but I finally see it happening within this job. I also finally see glimpses of my own personality shining through my, still limited, French. As I am relaxing more with the language, and perhaps my own flaws, I find myself actually communicating instead of thinking through grammar points.

I must also say that the French are lovely people! Many times I am asked if I speak French before the questions fly, and I have started answering "Je parle un peu français lentement." (I speak a little french slowly) They laugh and patiently explain what they are trying to say. They will also kindly correct my pronunciation, and help me find words when hand motions fail us, and I find this extremely helpful. Almost without fail, they end their conversation with some sort of compliment on my French. This is gracious for I know I've slaughtered their beautiful language to bits over the past few weeks. This compliment is probably mixed with a sort of pity--at least the poor soul is trying--but it is, nevertheless, heartfelt and I appreciate their kindness.

I often wonder how on earth I was born with such a love for a language of which I'd had no real exposure. It is like the classical music of language to me and my heart melts when I hear it. Sure, I was born in Paris....Tennessee, and I used to pretend that it was Paris, France, but I find this love for a language wonderfully puzzling. It is just another part of who I am. I laugh when I remember my first day of French class: I was sitting in the back of the room scared to death that I would fail this class miserably, but then I also remember a certain person, now wife, walking into the class that day and taking her seat in the front row. Isn't it funny and marvelous how some things work out? Little did I know how that class would change my life; I am forever grateful.

Peace to you. (and I might add, if you have ever wanted to learn another language, do it, no matter what your age or situation--you'll be glad you did.)