We French-speaking American students are in high demand as babysitters for parents who want their children to be immersed in English. It’s a popular sentiment. The metro hallways are plastered with ads for English language instruction. It seems that wherever you look you’ll see posters of various cheerful blonde women proclaiming that “YES! I speak WALLSTREET English!” My favorite ad has an extremely battered-looking British guard looking at the camera and holding up his hands in terror under the heading, Arrêtez de massacrer l’anglais! (“Stop massacring English!”).
The French have always favored accuracy in language; it started as a means to unite a very culturally and linguistically diverse country and was codified by institutions like l’Académie Française. It’s a rather bittersweet side effect of the globalization of the English language that it’s managed to root its way so firmly into a country that places such a high value on its native language.
After all, as one of my friends was joking the other day, if there was a little beret-wearing & cigarette-smoking Frenchman on a metro sign begging us Americans to “stop massacring français,” he’d probably be on his deathbed. We’re all trying to remember the faux amis (“false friends”) that don’t translate so well into French. I tried to describe my approach to cooking as a procès the other day and my host mom thought I was talking about a trial. Translating “I’m excited” to Je suis excitée means you’re, ah, excited in another sense.
And please, avoid the mistake I made a few nights ago at the dinner table with my host family. “Ah, je suis pleine!” I said, leaning back in my chair and patting my stomach. My host family stared at me and then at my stomach. Let’s just say my direct translation of “I’m full” to French didn’t quite carry over across the language barrier. They thought I’d announced I was full with a baby – and had chosen a rather awkward moment to share the news with them!
The French have always favored accuracy in language; it started as a means to unite a very culturally and linguistically diverse country and was codified by institutions like l’Académie Française. It’s a rather bittersweet side effect of the globalization of the English language that it’s managed to root its way so firmly into a country that places such a high value on its native language.
After all, as one of my friends was joking the other day, if there was a little beret-wearing & cigarette-smoking Frenchman on a metro sign begging us Americans to “stop massacring français,” he’d probably be on his deathbed. We’re all trying to remember the faux amis (“false friends”) that don’t translate so well into French. I tried to describe my approach to cooking as a procès the other day and my host mom thought I was talking about a trial. Translating “I’m excited” to Je suis excitée means you’re, ah, excited in another sense.
And please, avoid the mistake I made a few nights ago at the dinner table with my host family. “Ah, je suis pleine!” I said, leaning back in my chair and patting my stomach. My host family stared at me and then at my stomach. Let’s just say my direct translation of “I’m full” to French didn’t quite carry over across the language barrier. They thought I’d announced I was full with a baby – and had chosen a rather awkward moment to share the news with them!
2 comments:
ooh! annelise is pregnant! trust paris to do that to you ;)
I can't tell you how hard I laughed at the thought of your contented face as you lean back, pat your belly, and unexpectedly announce to your host family that you are great with child. Amazing.
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