I Learn French

 In first grade I remember wanting to be an astronaut. After becoming terrified at the thought of going into space, I wanted to be a teacher. Teacher turned into a pianist, pianist turned into doctor, and doctor turned into the next Katie Couric (you can't deny that Janah James is a perfect news anchor/talk show hostess name). While I would still kill for her former position on the Today Show, my major of choice will never lead to that.

I learn French.

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  The French are morbid, but they are the BEST at writing about the woes of life. Go watch Les Mis and you'll understand what I mean. Through all the melancholy imagery and depressing stanzas, the words are beautiful and empathetic.

When people ask what my major is I start out by saying Communications and then add French. At first they're impressed and then they ask, "so what are you going to do? Teach?" They make it sounds so useless. Maybe one day I'll teach, but what a better way to enrich and diversify your life than learning a tongue, that is so deeply linked to culture, and foreign to your own?

My French classes are some of my favorites. My high school French teacher is who inspired me most and planted the seed of my love for the language. I am by no means an expert or close to fluent. I still make silly mistakes and mix up words, like when I wrote about the French royal hereditary laundry instead of hereditary line.

I'm still learning.

I learn French and many may think it's dumb, but I love it.

    

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This post was written in response to the post "I teach French" written by Hannah on her blog The Art in Life. Although we've never met, I'm a devoted reader and share her love for all things French, Washington DC and primary colors.

Also, she blogged a great crepe recipe that included goat cheese, bacon, and honey. Sharayah and I made them and even took on her challenge to flip them. They're awesome.