I had my first day of classes today for the new year, which consisted of a two-hour French tute and about the same in train travel. I was able to spend my time luxuriously in the morning because I didn’t start until 12 (Monday’s are looking kind of… good?). After coolly transferring myself from the east tower of the building to the west tower, where I was supposed to be, I found a small huddle of classmates waiting nervously outside. All tension was lost once we’d established we were in the right place: an inquisitive “French 5?” was responded to with a relieved nod, and then conversation would turn to “I’m so nervous” and “I’ve forgotten everything about this language ever in the past three months”.
My French professor walked into class seeming pretty cool, despite the fact that she was communicating with us in some foreign…no, wait. It was definitely French. Just got to get my brain used to the idea of it again. Hopefully before the end of semester. I sat there understanding what was going on, but worrying about my ability to actually come up with words of my own. When I was called on to share my ideas about a political cartoon I turned into a stuttering mess, just barely able to finish my sentences. I blame partly my French proficiency and partly my hatred of speaking to the entire class.
And then we finished off the lesson by watching a clip of the French-Algerian Médine rap about the Algerian War. And I have actual homework for the first time in forever.