I went to a kind of odd private school in Los Gatos, CA from 3rd through 8th grade. It was a non-denominational "religious" school. I angered and frustrated many of the teachers in my six years there because of my secular worldview.
We didn't say prayers in the morning, we recited these vague non-denominational "meditations". As early as 5th grade I started rebelling against these spiritual intrusions into my life. It drove the teachers nuts. I was always reserved in my rebellion. I simply wouldn't say the meditations and stand silently. The teachers would complain to the principal who would then talk to my mom, who was the PE teacher at the school. My mom would "have a talk with me". I'd explain that I wasn't raising a fuss. I just wasn't participating. No vocal show of protest, I just ignored the daily activity. It frustrated mom (and amused my dad!), but she was very understanding about it.
I was an atheist already at this point in my life. I knew my mom was a person of faith and I wanted to respect that and extend that respect to the school and its students. I just didn't want to participate.
I didn't care for conformity of thought and action even at the young age of 10. To rub salt in the wound, we had to wear uniforms and on certain days, ties. I hated it. Loathed it. Navy blue corduroy pants. Itchy, short sleeved shirt. Stupid sweater. Ugh.
Ever wonder why I dress so casually all the fucking time? You can thank Carden School. For 6 years, I was massively uncomfortable for 8 hours a day... and then I'd have to squeeze into a speedo 6-7 days a week before and after school! Basically from 8 to 14... I wasn't comfortable except for at home where I could wear shorts and read while listening to Metallica.
Basically, there was a lot to criticize about Carden School.
HOWEVER!
I did get a good, if somewhat impractical education there... apart from the woefully out of date science curriculum. Hoo boy did I drive Mrs. Roseberry insane!
When you went to Carden, you studied French. Even the pre-schoolers there were studying French. I got a late start in 3rd grade, but got a taste for it the moment I started studying. In 6th grade, the honor students started Latin... another woefully impractical thing to study.
"Oh, but you'll understand the origins of the English language so much better!"
Uh uh. Bullshit. No. Studying Latin helps you with vocabulary in the Romance languages and certain aspects of English, but if you want to really understand the underpinnings of English, you study a Germanic language. So much of our language is Germanic in origin!
Anyway! By the time I was 14, I was conversationally fluent in French, due in no small part to my massive crush on my French teacher in 7th and 8th grade! I would go to swim practice in the morning, have one on one French tutoring before school where we'd only speak French... NO ENGLISH... French class during regular school hours and then I'd read French stuff at home.
So, by the time I was 14, I'd had 6 years of French study and 3 years of Latin. I was a good swimmer, and an even better student, so all the private high schools wanted me. There was a sticking point though. None of these schools would let me take French and Latin simultaneously my freshman year... let alone advanced Latin and French. They were all demanding that I pick one language and take the level 1 classes.
Nope! I wasn't going to take those massive steps backwards just for an easy A. I wanted to go to France, Lyon in particular because that's where my French teacher was from! I wanted to speak French every single day. Not something that you could easily do in a place like San Jose where the primary languages spoken other than English were Spanish, Vietnamese, and Farsi!
Public high school for the win!
Freshman year at Leigh High School, I took the most advanced level of Latin available. There was no AP Latin at the time and they sure as hell weren't going to let a sophomore take it.
They put me in French 2 freshman year. Not because I couldn't have hacked French 3, they just thought it was better for me to be around French students my age.
Enter Monsieur Allen. He was a delightful man, if a terrible French and Latin teacher. He knew I was being forced to work below my skill level and always went out of his way to speak French with me more than the other students.
Sophomore year, I was in French 3, but there was no more Latin for me to take. So, I went sophomore year taking only one language. It was weird to only be studying one language after 4 years of studying 2, even if one was wildly impractical and painfully academic.
That same year, we have a French exchange student from Nice. Stephanie. She kinda loathed everyone at the school, but liked me because I could actually converse with her in French. The greatest compliment she gave me was that she detected a Lyonaise accent! I always thought I mangled French like a typical American, but I had managed to pick up a regional accent! Formidable! Magnifique!
Junior year, I decided that I needed to start learning a new language. I opted for German... again a fairly useless language to learn in California. My reasoning though was that it would make it easier to learn Norwegian eventually. German is an insanely easy language to learn! I plan to revisit it eventually. In German, there are rules and they are not broken... basically ever. You learn the formula and the vocabulary and you learn German. The tough part was the phonetics. Making the actual sounds. It was an easy A with my now 8 years of language learning behind me.
I was in my final year of French with Brendan Bigley and Victor Jih. It was just the three of us in French 4. We were basically left to our own devices and allowed to do whatever we wanted... as long as it was in French. Being creative kids, we made really weird little movies in French. Anything just to make the sounds of the language rather than just reading and writing it.
Late in that year, as part of the German class, a lot of the language students took a field trip to the Monterey Language Institute. On the bus ride, Mrs. Murillo, one of the Spanish teachers, introduced herself to me.
"You're Kirk, right? The kid who's taken Latin, French, and now German here?"
"Oui. C'est moi!"
"What would you think about taking Spanish 3 your senior year? It would probably knock down your GPA a bit since you'd be starting with a distinct disadvantage, but I'm sure you'd be able to pull it off."
Mentioning a hit to your GPA to an honor student who was currently researching and preparing for college was probably not the best sales pitch! So, I explained it basically that way to her. She was very understanding. I said that I relished the idea of that challenge, especially since it would be the first time in my academic career that I would be learning a language I could use absolutely every single day of my life going forward.
I didn't take Spanish senior year and only took one semester of German that year. I was basically graduated by the end of my junior year and just needed a couple of required courses and to finish up my AP classes, so I could start out college as a sophomore... I started college just a few credits short of that goal because of a 3 on my AP English test, but that's another story. (Quoting Jane's Addiction songs on your AP English test is not recommended.)
So, 1990 was basically the year that my deep dive into language ended. Photography and political theory grabbed my full attention first year in college and never let go. My language studies came to a crashing halt... especially after I learned that linguistics was basically math. Phonology nearly broke my brain.
Since 1990, I have only sporadically spoken French. I would occasionally speak some when I was dealing with tourists at the Santa Cruz photo lab where I was employed, but that was very infrequent.
Then I moved to Seattle in 1995. Since moving here, I've met tons and tons of Slavic folk. Polish, Russian, Serbian, Croatian, Bosnian, Slovenian, Czech, Bulgarian. Now, the two most useful languages for me to learn would be Polish and Serbo-Croatian. I could use only Polish at home if I put in the work since Kasia speaks it fluently. So many of my friends are ex-Yugo immigrants! I could use Serbo-Croatian almost every day as well.
Add to that that one of our neighbors is Mexican and the other is Cuban American... I could speak Spanish every single day.
But... I'm back to re-learning French. Why French? Well, basically, it's about dipping my toes back into the water of language learning. I have retained a great deal of my French, but it's very very very rusty. So, the combination of Rosetta Stone, French language podcasts, and a giant box of flash cards, I'm making some good headway in learning French and providing me with some of the physio-chemical rewards that the younger me used to enjoy when speaking and learning the language.
The goal is to get my brain back in language learning shape with French and to then tackle Spanish, Polish, Serbo-Croatian, Norwegian, German, and Dutch. At my age, I realize I will probably only achieve fluency in a couple of these, but part of my life goals going forward is vastly more travel in my life and I'd like to be able to speak at least the most basic of phrases of the countries I visit.
Au revior, mes amis! Maintenant, j'etude de Francais! (my keyboard is not set up for French accents and diacritical marks, sorry.)
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