Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The French Dip

May 20, 2009

Today I found a folder full of papers written in high school. Most of them are bad. Actually all of them are bad. Lucky for you, I feel like sharing one of them. (It was so dang hard to type this as it was written. There was so much I wanted to change.)

The French Dip - October 11, 1989, 17 years young

The worst class I had ever taken was seventh grade English. The class was taught by an old bag with long crooked fingers named Mrs. Christopherson, who thought she was special because she was originally from France.

I'll just call her The French Dip.

English was The Dip's second language. She wasn't then and probably still isn't the world's brightest when it comes to the subject. Once or twice it had been rumoured that her French classes were among the bewildered; so how was I supposed to understand English when she couldn't even teach the rules of her own native tongue?

Christopherson left my seventh grade year in frazzlement. I often found myself using le instead of the word the, and my mom was certain that I had caught a cold because of the nasal sound in my nose. Christopherson was awful; when she was upset at my class for acting the way seventh graders are expected to act, she would scream answers in French and calmly state the questions in English. I didn't have a clue what was going on, but I decided to call it brainwashing.

Seventh grade was a bad year for English.


As illustarated above, one can see that I gave characterizations to inanimate objects early. The teachers would try to make me change it, but being the rebellious free spirit that I are, didn't wanna. For example, there was a big, fat, red "huh" written over the top of "her French classes were among the bewildered". I really want to write this teacher now and tell her that there is a socio-economic class called The Bewildered and the members of the French Dip's French and English classes belong in it. There's a Save The Bewildered movement going on as we speak. With a song and everything.

We are the world
We are the bewildered
We are the ones to make a brighter day
By writing English

There's a choice we're making
Our English teacher is fakin'
Parle vous Francois
Don't mean, "Do you speak English"

From now on, when I write bad, I'm gonna blame it on The Dip.


Staci said...

Oh I wish I knew you when you were seventeen. Of course, I would have been the nerd sitting on the front row and you would have had to write a diatribe about me.

tom lindsey said...

You have school assignments from 1989?

Your entire skeleton has been thrown out and replaced 3 times since then-- time to throw out some junk ;-)