Senior citizen French class yesterday:

“All you have to do is follow the rules and it pronounces itself,” said the instructor, and we all went, “Ohhhh.” It made sense at the time, I swear.

I conjugated the verb “faire” wrong, out loud. I corrected myself immediately, but it probably comforted others in the class that I made a mistake. They are convinced that I am a ringer. I have no idea why anyone fluent in French would take a senior citizen French class incognito just for the sake of crushing the ambitions of others, but paranoia springs eternal.

The instructor asked Charles, “Why don’t you understand what we’re doing?” Charles replied in serviceable French,“De temps en temps je suis confondu,” (from time to time I am confused). He had indeed been confused. He had been answering the wrong question, in the wrong way, with considerable aplomb, and with a dreadful accent. 

The woman with the heavily accented English has been doing a competent job, and she told me, as I had guessed, that her first language was Russian. She told me she taught Russian to speakers of English. She was a trifle imperious, which is a rather Russian thing, and contemptuous of the United States. I have had a number of Russian friends, because I am a fencer, so I’m used to them. They make excellent friends, as long as you don’t expect them not to betray you when it comes down to a matter of self interest. 

I was sitting with a woman who had been feeling thoroughly overwhelmed the last time she was there, and she and I were giggling and egging one another on to the point that the teacher told us he was going to leave the room if we didn’t behave ourselves. Then he came over and sat near us as if to settle us down. I could have told him that doesn’t work. 

A courtly gentleman started chatting her up after class, and he informed her in a consoling way that all the rest of the students studied French before. “No we didn’t,” said the two other classmates standing there with us. 

I left in a very good mood and went to my volunteer activity, which involves reading aloud to kindergarteners in the school library. They wriggle, interrupt, and practically spin in place, even when they are rapt with interest. 

It was much the same atmosphere as my senior citizen French class, now that I think of it.