In middle school, I used to wonder why everyone in the world couldn’t all just speak the same language. Not English, that’d just be forcing the Western world on everyone. But couldn’t we, collectively, as a whole planet, just make up a new language and all stick to that? Then communication would be a billion times easier. And I, 12 years old at the time, wouldn’t have to sit through my excruciating French class.
Of course, I quickly realized that was not feasible. We don’t have enough global coordination to maintain world peace; how would we come together and all create an entirely new language? So, it was looking non-negotiable: I had to learn French.
It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value of learning a new language. I knew it was good brain exercise, and it might come in handy in the future. And I’m Canadian; French is our second language, so you kind of have to learn it. The issue was, I was terrible at it. I kept mixing up “cheval” (horse) and “cheveux” (hair). I had to sing a whole conjugation song in my head to remember all the verbs. Do you know how hard it is to have a conversation when you keep having to pause and sing a song in your head?
Now, one of the best things you can do for your college self, in high school, is take that good old AP language exam. It saves you three quarters of language classes at UCLA. But I did not think about the future; when the option came to stop taking French, I said “au revoir” and dropped it like it was a toxic ex-boyfriend. No contact. I even tried to cleanse my brain of the verb songs (and yet whenever I did laundry, I would catch myself singing them).
Fast forward three years and I’m in college, staring at my degree audit report, and there it is, glaring at me: the language credit. Goodbye GPA, hello French. I’m sure you missed me, mispronouncing all your pretty words and mixing up all your verb tenses. You can catch me spending three lectures a week not understanding a single thing the teacher says.
That was my thought process as I enrolled in French at the beginning of the Winter Quarter. But now, I’m two-quarters deep and something really strange has happened: I’m loving it. Because it’s three days a week and we spend half the class talking to each other in French, I’ve made fast friends. It’s different from all my other classes, so it’s not intellectually overwhelming. And every time I see a photo of the ridiculously blue Southern France ocean on my Pinterest board, it doesn’t seem like such an unreachable fantasy anymore.
So, what’s the difference between middle school French and college French? I think the answer is: me. I’m a completely different person. I’ve learned how to study efficiently, how to appreciate my education and how to see the why behind each thing I learn. It’s no longer something I have to do but something I get to do. I get to make French countries more accessible to me. I get to make friends as we stumble through verb conjugation together. I get to improve at something I’ve always struggled with.
Why was I so bad at French in middle school? Because I never studied! I never practiced. And so it never got easier. The way college language classes are structured really forces you to improve. For a quarter, you’re immersed in the language, so you can’t help but catch on. And once you’re past that initial hump of confused, uncomprehending panic, it actually gets kind of fun.
So, even if you were wise and took that AP language exam, I still think everyone should take at least one quarter of a language in college. They teach dozens of languages at UCLA. You could be chatting it up in Russian, Hindi or Yiddish by next December. School is not just about taking classes to fulfill your degree requirements; it’s about learning things to enrich your life. Take that language class — you won’t regret it. I sure don’t. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll go back to my middle school and apologize to my French teacher for blowing off her class. Maybe I’ll do it in my trademark, butchered French (but hey, at least I’m trying).