My French journey started a bit par hasard. I adored the classes I took in high school but quit for no good reason when I went to college. For forty years I said nothing in French other than “croissant,” “pâté,” or “camembert”- yes, all foods- and the occasional unplanned exclamation like “merde” or “zut, alors!”, the latter now probably completely démodé.
Despite this departure from the langue de Molière, something must have lingered in my brain. I read garment care instructions and appliance operation manuals en français. When drying my hair I heeded the advice, “Ne jamais utiliser d’appareils électriques dans la baignoire.” And the beautiful leather-bound Larousse given to me by my grandmother still sat solidly on my bookshelf.
Then, several years ago, I voyaged to Morocco with a small group of Americans, including two femmes âgées who spoke only French to each other, hoping to improve their skills while in this somewhat francophone country. Each day I positioned myself where I could hear their conversation, not because of a curiosité malsaine, but in order to be close to the joy they exuded, as they chatted, laughed, stumbled, and corrected themselves.
I knew that I wanted that, too. But where to start this journey? Based on a bit of Googling and some word of mouth, I chose the French Library for my French classes. Since then, I have climbed through A2, B1 and B2, and dipped into C1 levels. Here, you can learn more about what each level means and what is expected from the student.
Along the way I have met amazing people, some of whom are now my French-language and travel friends. I have immersed myself in Zola, Balzac and Cocteau, and discovered a new favorite genre, francophone literature of Africa. I created a bûche de Noël (échec complet) in the beautiful new French Library kitchen, learned about the building of Versailles and the burning of Notre Dame. With each bit of the language I master and each place I visit, there is always more to learn and explore. J’adore !
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Jennifer Peterson, French Library Member
Despite this departure from the langue de Molière, something must have lingered in my brain. I read garment care instructions and appliance operation manuals en français. When drying my hair I heeded the advice, “Ne jamais utiliser d’appareils électriques dans la baignoire.” And the beautiful leather-bound Larousse given to me by my grandmother still sat solidly on my bookshelf.
Then, several years ago, I voyaged to Morocco with a small group of Americans, including two femmes âgées who spoke only French to each other, hoping to improve their skills while in this somewhat francophone country. Each day I positioned myself where I could hear their conversation, not because of a curiosité malsaine, but in order to be close to the joy they exuded, as they chatted, laughed, stumbled, and corrected themselves.
I knew that I wanted that, too. But where to start this journey? Based on a bit of Googling and some word of mouth, I chose the French Library for my French classes. Since then, I have climbed through A2, B1 and B2, and dipped into C1 levels. Here, you can learn more about what each level means and what is expected from the student.
Along the way I have met amazing people, some of whom are now my French-language and travel friends. I have immersed myself in Zola, Balzac and Cocteau, and discovered a new favorite genre, francophone literature of Africa. I created a bûche de Noël (échec complet) in the beautiful new French Library kitchen, learned about the building of Versailles and the burning of Notre Dame. With each bit of the language I master and each place I visit, there is always more to learn and explore. J’adore !
***
Jennifer Peterson, French Library Member
Bonjour
Voilà une belle expérience !
Pour la bûche de Noël ce n’est pas grave car c’est dur à faire.
Bonne continuation pour continuer à apprendre notre belle langue à travers la littérature, le tourisme et notre si passionnante gastronomie.
Laurence G.
France
Rennes
Tres interessant ! Barbara membre