Being a young girl with a very french last name, and having very english speaking parents, I was introduced to the wonders of french immersion in junior high to provide me with a more "stimulating" learning environment. All of the rest of my very english speaking friends went on to a very english speaking junior high. I alone, entered into the fray of bilingualism.
Before we enter the dreaded doors of junior high, we were shipped off to camp where we were to learn the essentials of the french language so we could survive in that first day of school. Beyond learning "I don't understand", "Where is the bathroom", and "How do you say this in French" I really only remember choosing which boys were cute, and enjoying how beautifully my name sounded when pronounced with a french accent. After we survived a weekend with our soon to be teachers, it was off to school.
Science class was taught by a tiny little woman who spoke only french. She was to teach a bunch of us english speaking french speaking wannabes the science curriculum and we were supposed to understand it. She started by trying to tell us that this week we would be learning about specific heat capacities. We didn't get past the word week. She wrote the word "semain" on the black board. "Does anee boody know what zix meeans?" she asks in her thick accent. A little fellow nameds Claude (whose parents also stuck him in french immersion so that his language abilities matched his name) stuck up his hand. He marched up to the black board and drew a very nice picture of a sperm...we laughed, she laughed, we would be great friends. We taught her the favourite phrases of the day like, "My name is Madame Houard, who the hell are you" and she taught us, well who knows - but by the end of the year I knew a lot more french than I did at the start.
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