Parislog 67
October 6, 2006

Last night, I went to my first French class appointment. I cannot believe how nervous I was. We all had to wait outside the doors until the designated minute of opening and then it was all about showing the ID. After we got through the first door, we waited in the courtyard for the next set of instructions. The courtyard of the elementary school was all cement with funny little circles of Astroturf around the base of the few trees in the yard. All the people were waiting either in groups of people who knew each other or singles just staring around them because they knew no one.

Finally, they had everyone through the door and now we were escorted in groups of 25 to classrooms for our test. Down the old halls we walked. The front edge of the wooden stairs was worn through. The walls were paneled and had glass windows running along the upper half. We walked into a classroom of rows of desks, each one for two people. It was very tidy and orderly. There was work on the wall showing some history lessons underway.

I was really nervous about the whole thing. I guess no one likes much to be judged for any reason, good or bad. We had our tests and our instructions and those who knew nothing at all were sent off somewhere else as obvious level 1.

After all the paperwork was done then the instructor began the oral testing. Each person had to go up and talk to him in French so that he could estimate where you might belong. I was at the beginning of the second row and by the time he got to me, I had finished the written part of the test. I looked around and couldn’t see anyone else done. I thought that maybe that was a good sign. I really wanted to get placed highly. You know, ego. So we talked and at the end he said I was either a 2+ or a 3 out of 5 levels. I was heartbroken. I wanted to be a for sure, at least 3.

I know it is silly.