I am preparing to sit my first language test in more than a decade and I am absolutely petrified.
At the turn of 2015, and in the wake of my 30th birthday, I decided I wanted to become a better person by studying French.
And now, after six weeks and around 18 hours of beginners' lessons at Alliance Française Dubai, it's time to see what I've learned.
I’m terrified. After smugly telling friends how I was improving myself, only to be met with let’s-see-how-long-this-lasts raised eyebrows, failure is not really only an option. Only it is a distinct possibility.
I’m not a “languages person”. I’m one of those shameful, typical Brits who only knows their mother tongue. The last time I was judged on my ability to speak or read in a foreign tongue was a reckless module of beginners’ Mandarin at university ten years ago.
But I need to pass this test, not just to prove to myself, and the world that this was no foolish indulgence – but to justify my place on the next term of the class. Eeek.
I'm not taking the challenge lightly. I've commandeered French friends' afternoons to painstakingly explain the intricacies of my family structure (mon père, ma soeur, sa enfant...), and bored English-speaking friends by forcing them to recite textbook dialogue in pained, neutral accents ("Bonjour, moi c'est Noura. Je travaille à Beyrouth et aussi à Damas."). And still I seem to get the verbs avoir (to have) and être (to be) mixed up...
Still, all that practice means I’m not scared of turning mute in the test. I will open my mouth and French-sounding words will come out, even if the grammar might resemble that of a two-year-old (or a 30-year-old foreigner going through a quarter-life crisis).
It's the writing that really worries me. When speaking I can stumble merrily along, mixing up my vous/votre and tu/toi (they kind of all mean "you", I think), wilfully obvious to context. But sat with a blank sheet of paper in front of me, I'll be paralysed with having to choose the correct term. Where, in speech, I can just make the sound "quel" (what) and be understood, in writing I will be expected to spell the same word in one of four ways (quel/quelle/quels/quelles), depending on context. Yet they are all pronounced the same. Huh.
More scary still is the listening. From the exercises we’ve done in class, I see how heavily articulated, highly artificial prerecorded dialogue can whizz out of the stereo in seconds, while I’m left clutching a pen still trying to work out what it is I’m even listening for. At least with talking and writing, I can make something up, and hope to cop a few marks for effort/pity alone.
In fact the only thing I'm really confident in is the reading, after spending hours watching French subtitles subliminally (my downtime excuse for studying), I reckon I can decipher most beginners' vocab on paper relatively simply (famous last words?).
So, as you can probably tell by now, I’m both cripplingly underprepared and rightfully fearful – but I do really want to succeed. Will passion prevail with a pass, putting me firmly on the track to Unit 102? Or is my fanciful voyage in language-land about to come to an abrupt crash, at such an embarrassingly early point? Check this blog next week to find out, folks.
And, please please please, wish me bonne chance pour lundi.
Rob Garratt is studying beginners's French at Alliance Française Dubai, a non-profit language and cultural institution established in 1982, which teaches French to more than 2,500 students every year. Find out more at www.afdubai.org.
