Intermediate For Life

Things have been going well here. I haven't done too many touristy things. I have been saving my money by alternating between jam and baguettes and ham and butter sandwiches. My students have been really wonderful and eager to learn and most of them speak English better at an intermediate level than most 40 year old southern Americans. But many times I feel sort of like a fraud. I have good days and bad days. I have a DEGREE in this language, but given my late start and overall apathy, my speech fluctuates. Somedays native speakers praise my French. I managed to get a haircut at Jean Louis David and hold a very funny conversation during the course of the process. The stylist praised my French. This was an accomplishment. A feat of independence. Fast forward to the girl asking me if I want sauce at the Kebab stand and I fall apart? Back to charades. When I relax, I sound French. When I am nervous or joking around I sound like Julia Child. Having seen and experienced first hand the difficulties of learning a foreign language at the ripe old age 28 (well, I started at 19 actually), I have a lot of compassion for my adult beginners. One in particular has just started learning English at 42. He's reinventing himself because he's a waiter and you can't be a waiter in Paris and not having working knowledge of at least one other language. So, I guess the empathy angle is good, but I want to know when it's going to click. When is everything going to become complete and utter instinct? I have moments of it, but they become overshadowed by my doubts. Fear is the biggest learning block in language. In life. Going to London this weekend. I'm the complete idiot who left her camera cord in the states. Sigh. I have a great blog planned on food. I've been doing enough eating for three people...but simultaneously have lost two pants sizes. What. What.