There were times at Grammar school when I really did seem to go out of my way to court unpopularity; usually with a flagrant display of elitism.
In lower Sixth Form those of us studying French Literature for A Level were invited to the University of Sussex at Brighton for a day of study along side first year undergraduates.
The first session was to be watching a film adaptation of Jean Paul Sartre’s Huis clos followed by a seminar to discuss what we’d just seen. After lunch there was to be a lecture on Sartre and Existentialism.
While I was filling in the form at home I noticed that there were two options for the seminar; English speaking or French speaking. Without hesitation I ticked the French speaking option and next lesson handed the form in.
It didn’t occur to me that I might be the only representative from my school in the seminar; I blithely assumed that everybody else would relish the challenge. It didn’t occur to me to mention my choice to any of my contemporaries either.
On the day we travelled to Brighton in the school’s recently acquired and, frankly ramshackle minibus but somehow we arrived safely. After a brief introductory talk and coffee we went into the main theatre to watch the film.
As we were leaving the theatre I followed the directions for the seminar and a puzzled voice called out “where are you off to, Mac?” Looking back I just said “the seminar, of course; aren’t you lot coming?” and carried on walking.
I was the only one who’d opted to attend the French speaking seminar and for a brief moment I regretted it. Then, deciding that I’d have to live with my choice I tossed a casual “À bientôt” over my shoulder and sauntered off.
The seminar was incredibly tough going and I found myself struggling to put my insights across. The students I was working with were exceptionally helpful and seemed willing to tolerate a rather hubristic sixteen year old. The Lecturer conducting the seminar was very patient as well.
In the end I decided that I’d made the right choice and had gained a great deal from the experience. Reading in French was one thing but thinking in French was a completely different matter.
The journey back to Midhurst was interesting. Opinion seemed to be divided as to whether I was incredibly brave or just astoundingly arrogant. Eventually I grew bored of the whole matter and retreated into a book after muttering the famous words of Sartre.
“L’enfer; c’est les autres.”
Love
Going outside the box might appear scary, but just as it turned out in your case; a well learned lesson and experience. It can also open up new views and paths of life, previously hidden (or ignored).
With my poor French I simply would have been thrown out from that seminar LOL
Love
Daniel
I have to agree, it was a very good experience. It would have been nice if my classmates could have seen it as a brave adventure rather than me just being a pretentious twit. I guess you can’t have everything.
I discovered that shrugging and saying “er” a lot is quite convincingly French and buys valuable time while you’re trying to think what to say
Love
Malcolm
Maybe the students were so helpful and they lecturer so tolerant was you were a delightful cute boy. Even boys can go a long way on there smiles….
many hugs
Scottie
I may have relied slightly on a few smiles; use the weapons you’ve been given has always been my philosophy.
Love
Mac