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| Porcelain figures representing me and all my French teachers, Shary Boyle, McMichael Gallery, August 25, 2023 |
I became for them whatever the opposite of "teacher's pet" is. Teacher's nemesis, maybe, or teacher's bane.
French was mandatory from grades seven to twelve, and I tortured all my teachers with my lack of skill. The one I remember best, and tortured most, was Mademoiselle Woywitka.
I could grasp the basics easily enough, but as soon as complicated concepts crept in, my work collapsed in a heap of errors.
And then I learned how angry I could make her, and how disappointed in me she could be.
My relationship with any new teacher followed this pattern. They learned not to expect much from me, and I learned how to be a solid C student in French.
Which is how, even though I spent more time studying French than I spent studying the law, I have a vocabulary of about 300 words and no ear for the language at all. When I try to speak French, I mime my meaning with my hands, because I have no confidence I can make myself understood with just my words. Frankly, this is embarrassing, and because we want to go to France again next year, I want to do better.
As a pseudo-Millennial, I know my options are to learn online through videos and self-study, or to get an app.
A friend told me about the app Duolingo, and I decided to give it a try.
I've been at it for a week, and have discovered, as I progress through the "gamified" sessions, how close to the surface are all the unpleasant emotions from my French lessons of long ago.
But here's the thing. My AI teacher doesn’t care.
I stumble over pronunciation and mix my words up real bad, but my AI teacher doesn’t care.
I make a mistake. Without anger or frustration my AI teacher tells me to try again. And, with infinite patience, keeps asking me until I get it right.
My AI teacher doesn’t take my failings personally.
Merci d'avoir lu!Karen
Petit à petit, ça viendra!
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