Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

About half way through Year 11, I developed a grand plan for my final year of high school. I decided that I was going to drop Biology and take up French as a TEE subject. My sudden and passionate interest in French was the result of a combination of factors - my intense dislike of the Biology teacher (who had an apparent fetish for wearing rather short, tight skirts, sat strategically on a lab bench while flirting with the boys in our class, and didn't seem to know all that much about Biology...on reflection, she may have been going through a mid-life crisis, but at the time, I felt very little sympathy for her); the fact that the small French class consisted of my best friend, two other girls I got on with very well, and two spunky boys; and, of course, the way the French accent just sounds so damn sexy!

So my friend began teaching me the basics of French during our Chemistry classes. While the Chem professor, a mad but loveable Irish gentleman, was gesticulating wildly and discussing the properties of transition metals and explaining how to balance chemical equations, Minh would be instructing me on the conjugation of various irregular verbs. It wasn't long before I had a few of the tenses under control, had worked out the feminine/masculine article thing, and had convinced the French teacher to let me into her class.

One thing I hadn't counted on, though, was my mother...who took my education, and my potential TEE score, extremely seriously. She has somewhat of a bad reaction to my flippant "oh, guess what, I've decided to do French next year". Our pursuant "arguments" generally followed the pattern that she would lecture me for a length of time on all the reasons why taking up French in my final year of school was an absolutely ridiculous idea, I would endure silently until she'd run out of breath, and stubbornly say that I was still gonna do it. This went on for the entire 4th term of year 11, and the following summer holidays. After my mother went to the length of arranging a meeting between herself, my dad, me and my HEADMASTER, to discuss why it was such a bad idea, I finally backed down and gave up on studying French, so as not to damage my TEE mark and jeopardise my chances of getting into a uni course with a high cut-off mark.

I got 86% for Biology, and was accepted into UWA to study a Law and Science double degree.

But I've never quite gotten over missing out on learning the language of lovers...

So when I found out I was moving to Canberra, I decided that now was the time to do something about it. I enrolled in a French course the second day I was here, and voila! I had my first class last night. With the French instructor's very first "je m'appelle", the labours of my Chem lessons all began flooding back to me. So I'm looking forward to acquiring that sexy accent and dropping my "H"s with ze best of zem.


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