I have found it absolutely fascinating to watch the progress of our students over the years, particularly when it comes to speaking French.

I have seen hundreds follow more or less the same path and it is only now that I am learning a couple of new skills myself that I think I’m able to see clairement.*

Teaching absolute beginners is a real rush because they’re so excited about the language. Everything is new to them and if French is a treasure chest, they’re just dying to crack the lid. There’s nothing quite like the energy of teaching them their very first list of greetings, which at Lingua Franca (and no doubt many schools around the world) takes place in the first 15 minutes of Lesson 1. It’s delightful to see adults play around with the language, testing out the new sounds, finally seeing words in print that, prior to that moment, may have simply been absorbed by osmosis (s’il vous plaît* springs to mind, as well as monsieur*). Watching the spark of recognition as they make the links between the French and the English is particularly gratifying.

This high energy usually lasts until Lesson 4, which is when we learn to conjugate our first verb. These days, I know to warn the tutors that at the end of that lesson, their students will most likely leave the classroom with their shoulders down and frowns on their fronts*. As a tutor, it’s hard not to feel like a bit of a failure at that moment, especially since the previous three weeks have usually been so much fun. I imagine it’s a bit like being a parent in that sometimes you have to deliver hard truths for the good of your child. It must fait vibrer la corde sensible* to see them crestfallen, but you know it’s only temporary and is truly for their long-term benefit. I now view lesson number four as a very important piece of the puzzle.

Not only do students need to know how to conjugate regular -re verbs if they ever want to speak French well, it’s also important that they know fairly early on in the piece that French is not a cake walk. Learning a language is similar to learning to play an instrument. I’m sure someone could teach me how to pluck out a tune on a guitar in a few hours, just as we could arm a student with a few rote phrases to help them navigate an upcoming trip. Sometimes, that style of learning is absolutely appropriate for the occasion. However, if your goal is to achieve some level of mastery, it makes sense that one has to put the hard yards in.

Lesson 4 seems to be when the enormity of the scale of the language first hits. The exact same thing has just happened to me with my Sanskrit lessons. The first week I was just dying to try out all the new sounds and mesmerised by difference of the script. As I mentioned last month, though, just a few short lessons later, I felt I was drowning as I came to see just how much work I was going to have to do to even be able to get a simple sentence out of my mouth. I think this is the exact point where many of our students lose their nerve to speak and instead retreat into the theory in an attempt to just get things straight! I know I did for a bit.

A mentor of mine commented recently that she notices I delve into detail when I want to regain control of a situation. As soon as she said it I knew she was right. When the vast scope of Sanskrit hit me for the first time, my instinctive reaction was: “Right, I just need some time alone to get this information in order”. Actually, that’s not entirely true, my first thought was “What the hell have I done?”, but after I gathered myself, my next instinct was to grab an A3 sheet of paper so I could start mapping out what I’d learned.

I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing. Of course, ideally, you’d be able to continue to exercise your vocal skills at the same time as you’re putting all of your theoretical canards* in a row, but this is not always the reality. Like Lingua Franca courses, my Sanskrit lessons give me ample opportunity to work on my speaking skills at the same time as I tackle the theory. When I felt that I really needed to get to grips with the basics, though, that sort of practice went out the fenêtre* for a time and this is not the end of the world.

In the very next lesson, I was able to recognise most of the character symbols in the alphabet, so that felt like a win. Meanwhile, my nascent Sanskrit accent had gone to custard. It seems I was concentrating so hard on the academic side of things that I’d left no room for any flourish. Again, that is fine. The point is that I was further along the bumpy path than I was a week before that.

I was heartened to be able to recognise that. In the past, I would have given the floor to my inner critic who would have berated me for not getting it all perfect out of the blocks. By the way, if you too have this little voice that sits on your shoulder at lessons or keeps you company when you do your homework, maybe it’s best to tell it to take a seat and just let you get on with it. It’s hard enough as it is without unsolicited criticism coming from the cheap seats.

So if you’ve cracked the lid of the treasure chest and brushed away the top layer of gold coins only to reveal the mass of tarnished trove below, ne te décourage pas. The chest is lined with gold and idling in the juste milieu for a bit is time well spent. Shoring up your connaissances* will never be wasted, as you’ll see when your desire to speak returns (and it will, c’est promis*).

Next month: how a jumbo tennis ball, a rabbit hole and a bit of forward thinking can set you on the path to speaking success.

The happy medium