Arriving at work a few weeks ago, and with this article half-written in my head, I happened up on a scene that was not only très familier* but enabled me to round out my thoughts on the matter of how to learn French (or at least a very important aspect of it): what to do when you get stuck.

There was someone, let’s call her Catherine, talking to one of our tutors, let’s call her Marie-Hélène (because that is her name and she deserves most of the credit for the ideas in this article).

Those of you who come to lessons at Lingua Franca know there are (strangely steep) steps to arrive au nid* and that the front is all glass. As I puffed my way to the top, I grinned as I saw Catherine and Marie-Hélène speaking to one another in French (I could could tell by the way they were moving their mouths - French is all out front, with English the face is flatter). I was so rapt because I could see they were enjoying a really lovely little chat before they started their respective classes. They looked both engaged and relaxed.

However, as soon as I opened the door and they saw me, the conversation stopped dead. I encouraged them to keep going, and they did pick up the thread of the conversation but I could tell without even looking at Catherine that she was feeling self-conscious now that I was there. Her speech became halting, she made a mistake, corrected herself, then looked at me for reassurance, and within the space of a few seconds, simply gave up, exclaiming “And I was going so well!”

I agreed, she was going so well and I felt really bad that my arrival had put paid to a great little French moment for her. I felt for her, which is illuminating because as I write this, I realise that when the very same thing happens to me, I don’t feel empathy for myself, I just feel like une idiote*.

People are often surprised to hear that this also happens to me, but I can assure you it does. Even though I can rabbit on at full speed in French with my workmates sans problème*, the whole atmosphere changes if one of their (French) partners or friends walks in. All of a sudden, that critical voice in my head revs up and consequently mon français part en quenouille*. I start doubting myself, sure I’m making errors the owner of a French school shouldn’t, positive the partner or friend is judging me, then I start looking to my workmates for reassurance that I’m not making error and so it devolves. The whole thing would be funny if it didn’t make for such an awkward scene.

The only thing that is reassuring to me is that my workmates, who are second-language speakers themselves, all report feeling the same thing but in reverse when speaking English. In fact, I’ve really got nothing to complain about - I face this situation from time to time. They face it every day. And, when I lived in France, I faced it every day, too, and managed to overcome it to a degree.

I think when you’re speaking to someone you don’t know, it’s easier. Of course you may be a bit nervous or shy to trot out your French when you’re not used to it, but the stakes are relatively low, and if you’re forced to speak your second language day after day, you do lose a lot of that apprehension. However, place most of us in a situation where we actually care about the outcome, and our French can grind to a halt.

So, the solution I was going to offer in my previously-mentioned half-written article was simply this:

When we’re under stress and our mind is going a million miles an hour we tend to forget to breathe. By pausing and taking a breath, we can often put the brakes on the runaway train that is our mind.

For a brief second, just take notice of your surroundings and with any luck, you’ll feel your brain start to relax.

Then, in order to quieten that critical voice in your head, follow Marie-Hélène’s excellent advice, which is:

Marie-Hélène suggests going to back to phrases you know you know. According to her, this is not the time to try to break out a new phrase you learned last week and think you know. Fall back on the phrases you use all the time, even if they may seem too simple for the occasion. Better to get out a simple sentence than no sentence at all, non*?

This makes sense to me. If our brain is already stressed and our critical little voice is telling us we’re rubbish at French, pulling out a well-worn phrase or two may just be enough to stop it right in its tracks. Fake it till you make it.

Marie-Hélène suggests creating a stock of these simple phrases in your mind, and practising them over and over again until they become second nature. That way, when you’re under the pump, you should be able to pull out something of use quite quickly.

The way I imagine it is in terms of luggage. When we travel, we usually pack one piece of carry-on luggage with all our essential items for use in flight. It may not contain our prettiest or most sophisticated items, but it does contain things that get the job done (passeport*, téléphone*, portefeuille*, mouchoirs*, châle*). Reaching for a fancy phrase when under pressure is the equivalent of asking to disembark the plane to access your suitcase which is located at the back of the hold because you know, you just know, that once you’ve remembered how to unlock it, and under five layers of t-shirts and just next to your wash bag, you’re sure you have just the bon mot* for the occasion. Meanwhile, your fellow travellers have ordered their cocktails and are settling in to watch a movie.

Next month, what exactly are those phrases you want in your carry-on? We’ll take a look, and offer you some options according to your level.

In the meantime, continue to be courageous. Not everyone would even give it a go. Chapeau* !

Go back to basics