I took French for 6 years in school; two in junior high and four in high
school. It was the only class I got straight A's in consistently from
grades 7-12. I'd been out of school for a semester, and decided I missed
speaking French daily. It was the one bright spot and my one great
passion in all my forced academic years. Tutoring the kiddies on summer
break twice a week just wasn't doing it for me. So I signed up for a
class at the local junior college. The only one they had available was a
beginning course, so I signed up for it thinking, "Easy A, and maybe I
can pick up some extra cash tutoring when all the beginning losers see
how much better I am than them." Well, it wasn't going to happen.
First day in class, the professor was taking roll, and when I piped
up with my "Je suis la," the asshole actually told me that the words
were wrong, and my accent was bad. I very calmly asked him where he was
from and where he had learned to speak the language. I was giving him
the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was maybe from Canada, the French
Polynesian Islands, or even the south near the Pyrenees...anything that
would account for him hearing and teaching a different dialect of French
than the one I had been taught by my Parisian-born teacher in high
school. "Oh, I grew up right around here", he cheerily replied, "and I
got my degree from the University of Minnesota last year." Well, that
did it. I stood up in the middle of his classroom and said,
"Excuse me?! I took French for 6 years, 4 of those years from a
Parisian émigré who told me I could've grown up next door to her. The
last time I used French in an academic setting, I was teaching
the class the second semester of my senior year. The only reason I'm
taking this remedial course is because the more advanced ones don't open
until next semester. I do not need to be corrected by some idiot
local boy who got his degree in the language from the University of
Minnesota!"...in French. Then I stormed out of the classroom to the
office to drop the course, and to leave a very nasty note for the dean
recommending he check out the credentials and experience of people he
hired to teach. It wasn't pretty. This was back in the spring semester
of '98. I'm not allowed to register for another course at that college
until fall semester, 2003.
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