This is just going to be a little post because I really need to get to bed super early and prepare myself for the coming day ahead.
Tomorrow I have a huge French midterm. Right now, I am freaking out as I am trying cram as many of the verb combination into my head as possible. And although this is a “part 2” of a beginner’s course, sort of an introductory course about French, it feels like a Calculus exam to me. I actually found Calculus to be much more friendlier than French is today—but that is my opinion. I passed Calculus!
Perhaps I am just making myself more scared than I should be? After all, this is just a midterm and I will have two more attempts at it throughout the rest of the term.
But, I know the odds of a good mark in this class as well as I know myself and my limits. I am a late comer to the whole “learn a second language” thing, and it is much harder learning this language then had it been if I were still in high school.
Awh, yes, high school. What happened in high school?
I have gotten back very little information from the records about my performance during my high school time. Nothing really informative that I got from them, as I went through the archives at the education centre. They really could not tell me what happened back then. I know I passed the Math. My English was good, but French? It is a mystery.
My parents are not much help either as they seem to have no recollection about those dark days back in the eighties. I know for my mother, school was just the “State run Babysitter” that our hard earned tax money went towards. She jokingly told me once that all that mattered was that I show up and not skip.
I remembered our principal, who we jokingly called Ralph Ferly from the character on the television show “Three’s Company,” was such an a-hole. He once tried to stop me and some other students from entering the school grounds once because we no longer lived with our parents. I was eighteen and just moved out on my own, and when he got wind of this news, he tried to have me (and others) removed from the school because we had to be registered with our parents, and under their care, at the time we were going to classes. I recalled that School District 88 did have a Court Challenge from one of the rich families in Terrace, and all of a sudden we were let back in. I owe that family a debt of gratitude.
However, somehow, French got lost in all the commotion. So here I am, twenty years later, paying the consequences of that time so long ago.