I really enjoy speaking French. Correction: I enjoy speaking French to myself. I am a terrible learner, not in the inability to absorb but the inability to not be an expert. It takes a physical effort for me to suck at things, which of course I blame on the American school system.
As of now, I’m in the second to last French level you can take at the non-college level (although it can count as a college level). And as I listen to Stromae, all I can think about is how terrified I was to go into French class for the first two months of school.
I can still feel it in my stomach distinctively, the way my heart would pick up speed and suddenly I’d forget everything I had learned in my two-and-a-half years of French classes. Now however I’m glad that I was made so uncomfortable or else I wouldn’t try so hard.
Je reconnais lorsque j’ai la pire angoisse. Notre classe avons un cinq minutes présentation de l’été. Ca m’inquiétait, mais je l’ai fait. Le raison je parle de français est parce que je suis tres mal à francais. Mais essayer est ce qu’est importante. Pas juste en des langues mais aussi en la vie.
I need to do a better job of giving myself a chance. Anytime I have, I’ve always reaped rewards. I also need to push to be bad at doing what I’m good at. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go and try something new, like knitting or talking to people instead of having school or my friends force me to.