France

Each student has a unique and individual experience on their Experiment program. The following essay is a single glimpse into a program from one student's perspective.

Leah Weightman -- France and Its Borders (FRSD)

"Jacques dit que... arreter!" I was losing again. I'm excellent at Simon Says in the U.S. I can beat any little kid that tries to challenge me. But my Laura was only four and she was winning. But she had the home field advantage. It was in her native language. I could understand, yes. But in my now rather garbled French, they couldn't always understand me. Laura's sister Lucy did, but Lucy was only one and couldn't talk.

Laura and Lucy were my host cousins. They were frequent houseguests during my 11 day home stay in Strasbourg. Laura was the older one, at four years old she was in that obnoxious stage where she liked to contradict everyone and just run around poking you for the pure sport of it. Lucy was only a toddler, but she could barely walk.

My host parents were patient with my French, and could decipher what I wanted to say even when most of the words were wrong. But Laura did not understand my garbled French a lot of the time. I caught myself each time, thought through my sentences thoroughly, though her response was usually "Quoi?".

Laura also taught me a form of Red Light, Green Light called "Un, Deux, Trois Soleil!" I was unsure of the rules, but I managed to win several times and gained her trust and approval. Talking with Laura felt easier, she had a slower way of speaking that didn't feel forced. Her vocabulary was considerably smaller, and her tolerance level was lower meaning I had to work harder at my sentences.

Laura seemed to have trouble understanding that I wasn't from France. She seemed to be unable to comprehend that I didn't even live in or near Strasbourg. She asked me to speak in English, but quickly made me stop when she didn't understand. She enjoyed playing with the American teddy bear that I had brought with me, and looking through my American books. In the end she gave up, and begged me to read a French children's book.

On my last day, Laura presented me with a torn out page from her Le Roi Lion coloring book. Simba was purple with a green nose, and it was hastily done. But she handed it to me and ran behind her mother to hide, blushing profusely. Perhaps it was her final gift for playing "Un, Deux, Troix, Soleil!" with her, but I should've been the one giving her the gift. With her lack of patience, I had managed to piece together real sentences much faster. And I'd also gained a new friend.