Learning a language is a lot like learning to drive. No matter how many books you read about it or how much you study the theory, you simply cannot learn it without actually going to the country; sitting in the driver's seat. The learning process is very similar, too. You make false starts, you stall and have start again, you start slow and as you become more confident you reach higher speeds, and when it seems as if you are going to crash, there is always someone there to slam on the breaks and help you out of the situation. And, just like driving, at some point in time your second language just 'clicks' into place. I am nowhere near fluent, I still make many mistakes, but I feel as if French has clicked into place in my brain and now I can join a conversation and say more than "oui" or "je ne comprends pas".
I have been in France for over seven weeks now. The first five of those passed by uncomfortably slowly and the last two have flown by unnervingly quickly. October feels like a lifetime ago yet Christmas is just around the corner. Of course, it all boils down to that age-old philosophy, 'time flies when you're having fun'. I am enjoying France a lot and as I look back on what were five of the most difficult weeks of my very short life so far, I can see that 'everything happens for a reason'. Forgive me for the cliché overload.
I met some other English language assistants last weekend and so had the first proper, real-life, sans webcam conversation in English with a fellow native speaker for six weeks. I felt like I had got back some of my identity. It was good fun. We went to a few bars, found a McDonald's (needless to say, I was far less excited than the others), and did a Lidl food shop.
I am having slight insomnia issues at the moment, resulting in me not being able to sleep until ridiculous a.m. and waking up at ridiculous p.m. Only in Narbonne, though. In Sigean, I fall asleep at around 4am and am up at 7:30. If there are typos-a-plenty in this post, you now know why.
Teaching this week has been extremely tiring. My lesson was a debate about social networks and whether they are good or bad. However, talking about the internet with hormonal teenage boys was not something I had considered as a problem. After hearing almost all the boys in almost all the classes proudly shout out their favourite porn websites, and laughing about ChatRoulette, I then managed to grab their attention and move onto Facebook and the like. The most difficult thing I found this week was to keep a straight face when this happened. Well, for the first lesson anyway. Each class was so disruptive that by Monday afternoon my sense of humour had evaporated and my face had forgotten how to smile. Teenagers do not shut up. They do not listen. They do not care. Once you realise and accept that, it becomes easier... Because you, too, stop caring.
At the end of my fifth class on Tuesday, the students had been so bad that I told certain boys that I was going to report them to the head of English. I was fair and far too nice; I gave them all at least five warnings each. After ignoring their pleas, I made to leave. However, one boy stopped me and begged and begged me not to report him. I simply said that it was not my problem and that I did not care. As tears welled up in his eyes, I very sympathetically told him to get out of my sight. By sympathetically, I mean I silently held the door open and ushered him out.
Did I feel bad? No. Do I feel bad now? Slightly.
This weekend, my girlfriend is coming to Narbonne! I get to play the awkward tour guide who has to try and think of places to go, despite me having no idea myself. My indecisive gene will surely help matters.
I know it is bad to end on a negative but I have to share this tragedy with you.
Yesterday, I was browsing through music on YouTube and found this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=VpnuubCJjCU
It has been sixteen hours and still it is playing on repeat in my head, hence this post's title.
DC
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