Jusqu’à les Présentations

by theboneyqueenofnowhere

The next day, I woke up buzzing with excitement. I literally jumped out of bed and did a quick work out on my hard wooden floor before showering. Petit dejeuner consisted of a bowl of chocolate cereal and freshly squeezed orange juice – delicious, but maybe not a great combination (as I would later find out).

There isn’t too much to say about my first morning before school, but of all the French that entered my ears I understood only one thing. As my host mother was walking me to the front doors of the school she looked at me and asked “T’es prête?” Was I ready? I felt no fear at that moment, everything was less scary now that it wasn’t so distant and vague and alien. I had already gained familiarity with a few simple things: the stairs leading to my bedroom, what it feels like to tear a baguette, the taste of French butter and the inner workings of the shower. Though they were of little or no importance, it was something. And it was somehow enough to convince me that there was nothing to be afraid of in such a foreign place. I was going to familiarise myself with one thing at a time, object by object, person by person, word by word. I knew what I had to do. There was nothing more to it.

After a quick meeting with the Principal about my timetable – I didn’t understand a word – we headed back home. Apparently I didn’t have class on Monday morning. I used Claires ordinateur to Skype my parents and a couple of friends and afterwards I ate lunch with la famille d’accueil and Monique, my host Mums sister. It was delicious, as usual. Then we were off to school again. Now, was I prête?

The first class I had was English. Quel chance! As soon as I walked and they introduced me I turned red as a tomato. I didn’t mind too much though – I wanted people to think that I was weak. Not simply because it would make it easier to make friends, just because it was true. I could do hardly anything on my own and if trouble arose I wouldn’t be able to fix it. I was about to make friends who pittied me and I knew it. That didn’t upset me though, I just hoped I could repay them oneday. Whoever they might be. The teacher made me speak to the class a bit – and I was quite pleased with how I went. After all, I didn’t speak French. But after the lesson was over she asked me if I was struggling with French and I was a bit annoyed. Of course I wouldn’t be fluent just yet, it was my first day! Did people here expect me to already know the language quite well?